In an instant she had whipped the shawl from her
shoulders, and was waving it frantically over her head. With a hearty
curse Savary spurred his horse up the bank and galloped straight for the
mill, with Gerard and myself at his heels.
It was only just in time. We were still a hundred paces from the door
when a man sprang out from it, and gazed about him, his head whisking
this way and that. There could be no mistaking the huge bristling
beard, the broad chest, and the rounded shoulders of Toussac. A glance
showed him that we would ride him down before he could get away, and he
sprang back into the mill, closing the heavy door with a clang behind
him.
'The window, Gerard, the window!' cried Savary.
There was a small, square window opening into the basement room of the
mill. The young hussar disengaged himself from the saddle and flew
through it as the clown goes through the hoops at Franconi's.
An instant later he had opened the door for us, with the blood streaming
from his face and hands.
'He has fled up the stair,' said he.
'Then we need be in no hurry, since he cannot pass us,' said Savary, as
we sprang from our horses.
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