Our carelessness gave one now--a chance of escape, and a chance of something else too.

For, while my negligent hand dropped to my side and my eyes were seeking to read the duke's face, the figure opposite me must have been moving.

Softly must a deft hand have crept to a pocket; softly came forth the hidden weapon.

There was a report loud and sudden; and then another.

And with the first, Lafleur, who was kneeling at the duke's feet and looking up to see how his shaft had sped, flung his arms wildly over his head, gave a shriek, and fell dead--his head, half-shattered, striking the iron box as he fell sideways in a heap on the ground.
The duke sprang back with an oath, whose sound was engulfed in the second discharge of Pierre's pistol: and I felt myself struck in the right arm; and my weapon fell to the ground, while I clutched the wounded limb with my left hand.
The duke, after a moment's hesitation and bewilderment, raised his pistol and fired; but the active little scoundrel was safe among the trees, and we heard the twigs cracking and the leaves rustling as he pushed his way through the wood.