After a moment, in which Denys lived an hour of agony, a peevish, half-inarticulate noise issued from the room at the head of the little stairs. Denys burst in, and there was Gerard asleep.
“Thank God!” he said, in a choking voice, then began to sing loud, untuneful ditties. Gerard put his fingers into his ears; but presently he saw in Denys's face a horror that contrasted strangely with this sudden merriment.
“What ails thee?” said he, sitting up and staring.
“Hush!” said Denys, and his hand spoke even more plainly than his lips. “Listen to me.”
Denys then pointing significantly to the door, to show Gerard sharp ears were listening hard by, continued his song aloud but under cover of it threw in short muttered syllables.
“(Our lives are in peril.)
“(Thieves.)
“(Thy doublet.)
“(Thy sword.)
“Aid.