The Winding Stair

by A. E. W. Mason

At last a moment came when the line of sight was clear; and immediately the carbine spoke—once and no more; and all about her in this upper city of the air all noises ceased, groans, exultations, everything. It was to Marguerite as though the crack of that carbine had suspended all creation. In a few seconds the shrill screams broke out again, but there could be no doubt about their character. They were screams of terror. These, in their turn, dwindled and ceased. Had Marguerite raised her head above the parapet now she would have seen that those terraces so lately thronged were empty except one on which a fire was burning, and where one man in a uniform lay quite still and at peace with a bullet through his heart.

But Marguerite was watching Paul, who had sunk down below the edge of the parapet and was gazing upwards with startled eyes. Marguerite crept to his side.

“What is it?” she whispered.

Paul pointed. Just above their heads a tiny wisp of smoke coiled and writhed in the air like an adder.

“If that were seen—” said Paul, in a low voice.

“Yes.”

If that tiny wisp from the smokeless powder of his cartridge were seen floating in the air, there would be no doubt from what roof the shot had been fired. Paul drew Marguerite down beside him; together they watched. There was no wind at all; the air was sluggish and heavy; it seemed to them that the smoke was going slowly to curl and weave above their heads for ever. It grew diaphanous, parted into fine shreds, tumbled, and at last was gone.

The two lovers looked at one another with a faint smile upon their lips. But they did not move; they crouched down, seeing nothing but the empty sky above their heads.

The danger was not past. At any moment the sound of blows upon their door might resound again through the house. Or they might hear a ladder grate softly on the outside of this parapet, as it was raised from one of the roofs below. They waited there for half an hour. Then a shell screamed above their heads and exploded. It was followed by another and another.

“They are shelling the Souk-Ben-Safi,” said Paul. “Look! You can see the twinkle of the guns.” He pointed out to her the flashes on the hills to the east of the town. “That’s the way! Let the guns talk to these torturers!” He shook his fist over the town, standing upright now upon the roof, his face aflame with anger.