I shouted, and the knave who drove glanced at me, then up the Rue Monarque at my pursuers, whereupon, shaking his head, he would have left me to my fate.

But I was of another mind.

I dashed towards the vehicle, and as it passed me I caught at the window, which luckily was open, and drawing up my legs I hung there despite the shower of mud which the revolving wheels deposited upon me.
From the bowels of the coach I was greeted by a woman's scream; a pale face, and a profusion of fair hair flashed before my eyes.
"Fear not, Madame," I shouted.

"I am no assassin, but rather one who stands in imminent peril of assassination, and who craves your protection." More I would have said, but at that juncture the lash of the coachman's whip curled itself about my shoulders, and stung me vilely.
"Get down, you rascal," he bellowed; "get down or I'll draw rein!" To obey him would have been madness.

The crowd surged behind with hoots and yells, and had I let go I must perforce have fallen into their hands.