Getting no reply, she repeated the question and knocked on the panel.
There was an answer this time, but not at all what she had expected. One of the fellows fired a pistol and the bullet pierced the thin panel and went dangerously near her head.
I pulled her across to a spot where she would be safe from a chance shot. Only just in time, for half a dozen shots were fired in quick succession.
She was going to speak again, but I stopped her with a gesture; and then extinguished one of the two candles by which the room was lighted.
A long pause followed the shots, as if the scoundrels were listening to learn the effect of the firing.
In the silence the man in the corner groaned, and I heard the key turned in the lock as some one tried to push the door open.
I drew out my weapon.
“You will not shoot them, Mr. Donnington?” exclaimed my companion under her breath.
“Doesn’t this man Barosa know your voice?” I whispered.
“Of course.”