I drew back as far as I could from the door, holding the table in the
position that I have described. Then I called out:
"Gentlemen, I accept your offer, relying on your honour. If you will
open the door--"
"Open it yourself," said Detchard.
"It opens outwards," said I. "Stand back a little, gentlemen, or I shall
hit you when I open it."
I went and fumbled with the latch. Then I stole back to my place on
tiptoe.
"I can't open it!" I cried. "The latch has caught."
"Tut! I'll open it!" cried Detchard. "Nonsense, Bersonin, why not? Are
you afraid of one man?"
I smiled to myself. An instant later the door was flung back. The gleam
of a lantern showed me the three close together outside, their
revolvers levelled. With a shout, I charged at my utmost pace across the
summer-house and through the doorway. Three shots rang out and battered
into my shield. Another moment, and I leapt out and the table caught
them full and square, and in a tumbling, swearing, struggling mass, they
and I and that brave table, rolled down the steps of the summerhouse to
the ground below. Antoinette de Mauban shrieked, but I rose to my feet,
laughing aloud.
De Gautet and Bersonin lay like men stunned. Detchard was under the
table, but, as I rose, he pushed it from him and fired again.
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