"
At this moment there was a loud knocking at the door and a hoarse roar of
voices from the street. The silversmith went to the casement and opened
it, and he and Guy looked out. A shout of fury arose from the street, with
cries of "Death to the English spies!" "Death to the Armagnac provost!"
Leroux in vain endeavoured to make his voice heard, and so tell the crowd
that his guests were not spies, but had been lodged at his house by the
Duke of Burgundy himself. A tall man on horseback, one of several who were
evidently leaders of the mob, pressed his way through the crowd to the
door and evidently gave some orders, and a din of heavy sledge-hammers and
axes beating against it at once mingled with the shouts of the crowd. The
horseman crossed again to the other side of the street and shook his fist
threateningly at Leroux.
"That is Jacques Legoix," the silversmith said, as he retired from the
window; "one of the great leaders of the butchers; his family, and the St.
Yons and Taiberts rule the market."
"Tom," Guy said to the archer, who was standing behind him. "Begin by
picking off that fellow on horseback opposite."
Tom had already bent his bow and had an arrow in readiness, a moment later
the shaft flew and struck the butcher between the eyes, and he fell dead
from his horse. A yell of consternation and rage rose from the crowd.
"Now you can distribute a few arrows among those fellows at the door," Guy
said.
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