"Had you struck him, fool," Basterga muttered wrathfully, wiping a little blood from his sleeve, "as you wanted to strike him, he had squealed like a pig! Now 'tis the same, and no noise.

Ha! Seize him!" He spoke too late.

Claude had seen his opportunity, and as the treacherous blow was struck had crept forth.

At the moment the other saw him he bounded over the threshold.

Even as his feet touched the ground a man who stood outside lunged at him with a pike but missed him--a chance, for Claude had not seen the striker.