When the men on the stairs heard the whistle blown by Robeccal, they rushed through the crowd brandishing their knives. They disappeared in the street.

AubÉ hurried up-stairs. Francine had disappeared. Fernando had finally succeeded in separating the combatants, and pushed Frederic out of the door.

Arthur, foaming with rage, called out to AubÉ:

"Make haste, the girl has been carried off by the order of these people! I know what I say!"

AubÉ hastened to his private rooms; he found the door that led to the stairs unlocked and open.

"What scoundrels they are!" cried AubÉ.

"Yes," answered Montferrand, "but scoundrels who bear the best names in France—one is the Vicomte de Talizac, son of the Marquis de Fongereues."

A young man suddenly appeared on the stairs.

"Who speaks of Talizac and de Fongereues?" he asked.

"Ah! Monsieur Fanfar! heaven has sent you to my assistance. My establishment is ruined, but that is nothing to the ruin of this poor girl!"

"What poor girl?" asked Fanfar. "Pray explain yourself, Monsieur AubÉ."

Montferrand had heard that this Fanfar was only a rope-dancer; but his air and manner, his dress, too, proclaimed him to hold a very different position, and he was greatly attracted by his appearance.

"It is a disgraceful piece of business, sir," he answered, "in which, I am sorry to say, I am in a measure concerned;—the Vicomte de Talizac—"

"I knew it!" murmured Fanfar.

"And his friend, Fernando de Vellebri—"

"The Italian spy, who betrayed his brothers, the Carbonari, and is now the slave of the Jesuits."

"All of which I knew nothing of; but at all events these two men, whom I have called my friends, to my shame, have carried off a young girl, a street singer—

"A most odious crime; but have you any idea where they have taken her?"

"No, not the slightest."

"And this girl, has she no father, no mother?"

"She is an orphan, and is called the Marquise."

"Ah! but her real name? Where does she live?"

"Only a little way from here, but a man named Robeccal can tell you exactly."

"Robeccal! A miserable scoundrel!"

"You know him then?"

"Only too well!"

"I know that the Marquise boards with a woman who is bed-ridden, and I remember that she is sometimes spoken of as Cinette, or Francine."

"Cinette!" cried Fanfar, "how old is she!"

"Fifteen or sixteen, I should say."

"Merciful Heavens! Can it be she! Am I going mad?"

"What are you saying, sir?" and Montferrand seemed to feel a real interest.

"You can't understand, but I shall save her. If I chance to meet that Talizac, I will crush him as I would a venomous reptile!"

"You are going in pursuit of the girl?" asked AubÉ.

"Most certainly, nor will I rest until I have rescued her!"

"Accept my services," said Montferrand.

"Where am I to turn? What shall I do first? My head is dizzy." He held himself more erect. "But this is no time to give way. Thank you, sir, for your generous offer, of which I may avail myself later."

"I regret to have seemed, even for a moment, the accomplice of these men. My name is Arthur, son of the Marquis de Montferrand. Here is my card."

Fanfar took the bit of shining pasteboard.

"And here is my hand!" added Arthur.

"And now," said Fanfar, after a vigorous exchange of handshaking, "and now we have not a moment to lose!"

There was another disturbance below. A great noise, and a voice shouting, "Open! in the name of the law!"

Fanfar started.

"At last!" cried AubÉ. "It is the police; probably by this time the men are arrested."

Fanfar laid his hand on his shoulder, and said rapidly, "No, no; the police of Louis XVIII. do not disturb themselves for such trifles; they are after other game than criminals—"

"Open, in the name of the king! If not, we force the door!"

"These officers are in pursuit of men who have sworn eternal war against oppression and corruption—who detest a despotic monarchy and demand a free and honest republic!"

"Do you speak of yourself?" asked Montferrand, quickly.

AubÉ opened his eyes wide. Certainly, this was a most extraordinary evening!

"You are lost!" cried Montferrand.

"Not yet!" answered Fanfar. "Pray, Monsieur AubÉ, hold them in conversation, a few minutes. Good-bye, but remember that I shall rescue Francine." As he spoke, he ran lightly up the upper stairs.

AubÉ, according to his instructions, slowly raised the bars of the door, at which the police were impatiently knocking. When at last the door was opened, a crowd poured in, headed by a Police Commissioner.

"Keeping me waiting in this way will cost you dear, let me tell you!" foamed this important functionary.

"But why are you here?" stammered the proprietor of the restaurant.

"I don't suppose we are bound to tell you that, are we? But first, who is that man?" and he pointed to Arthur, who pale and covered with blood, was not especially reassuring in appearance.

"That man, sir, of whom you speak so rudely," said Arthur, with some heat, "is the son of the Marquis de Montferrand."

"I beg ten thousand pardons!" said the official, in the most obsequious tone, "but this house is a den—"

"A den!" gasped AubÉ.

"Yes, a den where the enemies of our beloved king plot together."

"And who are these enemies? What may their names be?"

"Gudel, or Iron Jaws, and a scoundrel named Fanfar."

"Indeed! Very good, sir, if you have come to arrest these men, do not let me detain you!"

Arthur and AubÉ exchanged a glance. Fanfar was by this time undoubtedly in safety.

"The house is well watched," continued the Commissioner, "and they cannot escape our vigilance!"

Montferrand started on hearing this. The Commissioner ran up-stairs, followed by his men. He reached the upper floor. An oath was heard.

"The birds have flown!" he shouted.

"They went by the roof!" some one called from below. This some one was Cyprien, who had been on guard in the street, and had seen forms against the sky.

"To the roof, then! And remember your orders, take them alive or dead!"

Cyprien, as agile as a tiger cat, now stood by the side of the Commissioner.

"You must go out this way," he said, pointing to the window.

"Zounds!" muttered the Commissioner, drawing back.

"Take care!" sneered Cyprien, "the king has his eyes on you!"

Thus cheered and encouraged, the Commissioner stepped out on the narrow cornice.

"There they are!" cried Cyprien. "There they are! They wish to reach the next house. We shall have them! we shall have them!"

Gudel and Fanfar had gone as far as they could. They found they must turn. Fanfar stopped short and seemed to be doing something to a chimney.

"Surrender!" shouted the Commissioner, some distance off.

"Surrender!" repeated Cyprien.

At this moment a man was seen to vault into space; it was Fanfar, who had sprang across the gulf between the two houses. With him he had taken the end of the rope which he had fastened to the chimney. He held the rope so firmly that it made a bridge. Gudel began the perilous voyage.

"At all events, we will have a dead body!" growled the Commissioner, who advanced to cut the rope.

Cyprien did not at first understand.

"Stop!" he shouted. "Stop!"

To kill Gudel was ruin, for he was the only human being who could prove Fanfar's birth. But he was too late, the zealous Commissioner had cut the rope.

"Fool!" shouted Cyprien, and then he listened to hear the dull thud of the body falling on the stones below.

But he heard nothing, for Gudel had not fallen. By a movement more rapid than thought, Fanfar, divining what was to happen, had thrown himself flat on the roof with his arms extended beyond the gutter, and had shouted to Gudel:

"Hold fast to the rope!"

Iron Jaws snatched the rope between his formidable jaws, and when the rope was cut he simply hung and waited. Fanfar slowly drew him up. It was a magnificent display of energy and strength. And presently Fanfar and Gudel stood side by side.

"Now, gentlemen, it is your turn," said Fanfar.

"No! it is my turn!" shouted Cyprien, taking a pistol from his pocket and firing.

The ball broke a slate which fell into the street. As to Gudel and Fanfar, they were far away and a high chimney hid them from view.