"Don't forget the shot we heard."
"No. But the pigeon isn't our only hope. The signals!"
"Who knows if an answer came?"
"I know, because I know Stephen. He wouldn't have come down alive unless he'd got an answer."
Saidee said no more, and they sat together in silence, Victoria holding her sister's icy hand in hers, which was scarcely warmer, though it tingled with the throbbing of many tiny pulses. So they listened to the firing outside, until suddenly it sounded different to Victoria's ears. She straightened herself with a start, listening even more intensely.
"What's the matter? What do you hear?" Saidee stammered, dry-lipped.
"I'm not sure. But—I think they've used up all the cartridges I took them. And there are no more."
"But they're firing still."
"With their revolvers."
"God help us, then! It can't last long," the older woman whispered, and covered her face with her hands.