I shouted, and the knave who drove
glanced at me, then up the Rue Monarque at my pursuers, whereupon, shaking
his head, he would have left me to my fate. But I was of another mind. I
dashed towards the vehicle, and as it passed me I caught at the window,
which luckily was open, and drawing up my legs I hung there despite the
shower of mud which the revolving wheels deposited upon me.
From the bowels of the coach I was greeted by a woman's scream; a pale
face, and a profusion of fair hair flashed before my eyes.
"Fear not, Madame," I shouted. "I am no assassin, but rather one who
stands in imminent peril of assassination, and who craves your protection."
More I would have said, but at that juncture the lash of the coachman's
whip curled itself about my shoulders, and stung me vilely.
"Get down, you rascal," he bellowed; "get down or I'll draw rein!"
To obey him would have been madness. The crowd surged behind with hoots
and yells, and had I let go I must perforce have fallen into their hands.
So, instead of getting down as he inconsiderately counselled, I drew myself
farther up by a mighty effort, and thrust half my body into the coach,
whereupon the fair lady screamed again, and the whip caressed my legs.
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