“They are here, master,” said the faithful servant, with disquiet: “the five masters.”
“All here?” queried Balsamo, starting.
“With each an armed servant in the yard. They are impatient which is why I rang so often and roughly.”
Without adjusting his dress or hiding the blood spot, Balsamo went down the stairs to the parlor.
“Has your excellency no orders to give me about weapons?” asked the valet.
“Why should I take a sword even?”
“I do not know, I only feared—I thought—— ”
“Thanks, you can go.”
“Yes: but your double-barrelled pistols are in the ebony box on the gilded buffet.”
“Go, I bid you,” said the master, and he entered the parlor.