‘What?’
‘Cry. The men are there. You may help me afterwards.’
‘What, pretend—?’
‘Yes. Quick.’
‘But they’ll—’
‘No, no. Quick, for God’s sake, quick!’
‘God help us,’ she whispered. Then she cried loudly, ‘Help! help! help!’
I sprang towards her. There was the crash of a man leaping through the open window. I turned. Behind him I saw Demetri standing in the moonlight. Other figures hurried up; feet pattered on the hard ground. The man who had leaped in—a very tall, handsome and athletic fellow, whom I had not seen before—held to my head a long old-fashioned pistol. I let my hands drop to my side and faced him with a smile on my lips. It must be death to resist—death to me and death to my new friend; surrender might open a narrow way of safety.
‘I yield,’ said I.
‘Who are you?’ he cried.