And she might have said it, for the terror that lurked in that tower was coming back, in a new dress, but the same terror. But he went on, "Come, say it, and seal the bargain prettily."
And then she said, "If you don't let me pass I swear I'll—"
What the threat would have been she hardly knew, and he never knew, for he took a step toward her with his hands outstretched, and words seemed at once to become weak and silly. She clutched her rosy sunshade at about half its length and struck full at his head. The sunshade broke. He put his hands to his temples and held them a moment.
"Now, by God," he said, "after that—" and came toward her.
And even as he moved the feet of the deliverer sounded on the stairs. Hurried feet, spurning the stones, feet swifter than a man's, lighter than a woman's—little feet that gave out a thin, quick sound not like the sound of human footsteps. She called aloud on the name of the deliverer and he came, swift as the arrow from the bow of a master-archer.
"Charles!" she cried. "Charles, seize him! Hold him!"
And Charles, coming headlong into that dark place like a shaft of live white light, seized him, and held, by the leg.
Mr. Schultz did his best to defend himself, but he had no stick, and no blows of the human fist confused or troubled that white bullet head, no curses affected it, and against those white teeth no kicks or struggles availed.
"Hold him! hold him!" she cried, the joy of vicarious battle lighting her eyes.
"Confound it!" said Schultz. "Call the devil off."