"Hounds! Beasts!" I cried, not loudly this time, for though I was like one possessed with rage, it was inward rage, "go to your kennels! Will you dare to raise a hand against a Caylus?
Go--or when the Vicomte returns, a dozen of you shall hang in the market-place!" I suppose I looked fierce enough--I know I felt no fear, only a strange exaltation--for they slunk away.

Unwillingly, but with little delay the group melted, Bezers' following--of whom I knew the dead man was one--the last to go.

While I still glared at them, lo! the street was empty; the last had disappeared round the bend.

I turned to find Gil and half-a-dozen servants standing with pale faces at my back.
Croisette seized my hand with a sob.

"Oh, my lord," cried Gil, quaveringly.