set it on fire until they had sacked it from top to bottom. The only chance is that they may be hiding somewhere near the shore."

He threw the schooner up into the wind, and for an hour she lay there while the two midshipmen examined every stone and tree near the water through their glasses, but without seeing the slightest sign of any one hiding there.

"It is no use waiting any longer," Peter said at last. "If they had escaped before the place was taken they would have been here long ago, and would, of course, have signalled as soon as they saw us. We will make straight out to sea for the present, we can do nothing until it gets dark. I don't know, though. Put her head to the west again; I must go and see what is going on up there, and must run the risk of being caught. There is a battery in the next bay, and two or three villages farther on, so I must go at once. Get a boat down with four hands in it, while I run down and put on that fishing suit again. As soon as you pick the boat up make out to sea, and be here again at seven. Don't send the boat ashore unless you see me come down to the water's edge. If I am not there, stand off again, and come back two hours later; I may be detained. If I am not there then, come back at ten o'clock and send a boat in. Unless I come off then, you will know that I have got into some sort of mess. Cruise along as usual, and don't come back till evening the day after to-morrow. Then if I am not there, you had better find the Tartar, tell the captain that I went on shore to see if I could get my friends out of the hands of these scoundrels, and that as I have not returned I must certainly have been taken prisoner."

He ran down below and hastily put on his disguise, hid two brace of pistols under the blouse, and went up again. The boat was already alongside. Harding was examining the shore with his glass.

"I don't see a soul moving, sir."

"Throw her up into the wind at once; if you go any farther they will make us out from the fort beyond the headland."

The sailors were armed with pistols and cutlasses. "Now, lads, take me ashore as quickly as you can, so that I can get well into the wood before any one who happens to see the boat come off can get there."

The sailors rowed at racing speed to the shore. All was still quiet. Peter jumped on to the beach, bidding the men row back as fast as they could; then he started at a quick run through the wood. When he approached the château he saw a crowd of some four or five hundred men in front of him. All were armed, some with muskets, others with pikes, while some carried swords. Casks of wine had been brought up from the cellars, and half-a-dozen of these had been broached, and the men were gathered thickly round them.

"Drink away, you brutes," Peter muttered to himself. "I wish I could drop a couple of handfuls of arsenic into each of those barrels—not many of you would get back to Marseilles."

As Peter could speak French as well as English he had no fear of his disguise being suspected, and he sauntered up boldly to the crowd. No one paid any attention to him. It was natural enough that fishermen, seeing the flames which were now pouring out from almost every window in the house, should come up and see what was going on. Very many of the crowd were already showing signs that their draughts had been deep ones. They were shouting out scraps of the revolutionary songs; some were howling, "Death to the aristocrats!" In front of the principal entrance a pike was stuck up with a head upon it. Peter strolled towards it, and, as he had feared, soon recognised the features of the baron. Passing by, he came to the entrance; a dozen dead bodies were lying there. It was evident that the baron had, as he said he would, defended it with his servants, and that all had fallen, but not until they had killed at least an equal number of their assailants. Looking about he saw a small group of men standing apart from the house. He directed his steps in that direction, and saw sitting on the ground in their midst the baroness and her two daughters. One of the men who were guarding them came up to him.

"Have you just come up from the sea, comrade?"

"Yes; we were in our boat and saw the flames, so I landed to see what was the matter."

"You see the tyrant is dead. He has saved the guillotine trouble. As for the women, justice will be done on them."

"No doubt, no doubt," Peter said; "but aristocrats though they are, they were kind to tenants on their estate."

"Bah! when every sou had been wrung from them they flung a few back. What goodness was there in that? The aristocrats must be stamped out root and branch; they have fattened too long on the people."

"Yes, the de Vignerolles have been here a long time—hundreds of years they say."

"Yes; think of that, draining the life-blood of France for hundreds of years. However, it is our turn now. Well, by to-morrow morning they will be lodged in the prison, to-morrow they will be tried, and the next morning the guillotine will have the last word with them—we don't waste time with these people. Go over there and get a drink—they have got wine, the nobles have, while we who tend the vines are obliged to drink water."

"When will you start, comrade?"

"Not for three or four hours yet. We left Marseilles at midnight, and had well-nigh twenty miles to march, and the men must have a rest before they go back."

Peter had now learned all that he wanted to know; but he felt that it were better that he should linger for a while, so he sauntered across to one of the groups. A cup of wine was held out to him by one of the men who had installed himself as server.

"Drink death to all tyrants, my friend," he said.

"That will I heartily. 'Death to all tyrants,'" and he drank off the wine.

"You will soon be on board a ship fighting the English," the Frenchman said. "There was an order yesterday that all fishermen were to repair at once to Toulon to man the ships there."

"We have not received it yet," Peter said; "but I for one shall not be sorry to be on the deck of one of the ships of war now at Toulon. Fishing is all very well, but that will soon be spoiled if the English war vessels come cruising along the coast; besides, now all the aristocrats are being killed, we shall get but poor prices for our fish."

He remained for another half-hour watching what was going on. There was scarce one of the crowd that had not some portion of the booty about him; costly curtains, rich hangings, and even ladies' dresses were wrapped round and round their bodies, or tied up so as to form scarves over their shoulders. Some had made up bundles to be carried on their muskets. One ruffian was swaggering along with the Baron's hat on his head. Many had already lain down on the grass to sleep off the effects of the wine and the fatigue of their night march. One party of men, more drunk than others, had joined hand-in-hand, and were dancing round the pike on which was the baron's head, singing a Ça ira. Peter's fingers itched to grasp his pistols, but he restrained his fury until he reached the farthest group, and then walked at a leisurely pace away into the shrubbery.

As soon as he was out of sight he dashed off, and did not pause until he reached the shore. The schooner was a mile away, heading straight in. Glancing to the right, he saw a party of soldiers marching along the beach. They evidently came from the fort beyond the headland, and were about three or four hundred yards away from him. As he stopped they halted, and were evidently watching the schooner. Without hesitation he threw off his blouse and fisherman's boots, threw down his pistols, and, running forward, stepped into the water. He went easily for some twenty yards when he heard a shout and