“Is anybody up there?” he demanded in French.
Instead of replying, Henry tiptoed his way to a corner of the room. Here was a sheltered nook, between the chimney and the sloping roof, and he squeezed himself into this.
“I say, is there anybody up there?” demanded the Frenchman once more.
He waited a moment and then slammed the door shut. More talking followed, but only an indistinct murmur reached Henry’s ears. The young soldier scarcely dared to breathe, and he tried in vain to think of what would be best to do next.
“I reckon I’ll have to drop from the window, just as I was going to do at the barn,” thought the youth, but before he could put the plan into execution, the door below was thrown open once more and the Frenchman reappeared, this time with a torch taken from the fire, which he and his companions had started up again.
“I’m in for it now,” Henry told himself, and he was right. In a moment more the Frenchman discovered him and drew a pistol.
“Who are you?” he demanded, in his native tongue.
“Don’t fire,” answered Henry.
“Ha, you are von Englishmans, hey?” cried the Frenchman, and now Henry saw that he was dressed in civilian’s clothes.
“Yes, I am an English soldier,” answered Henry recklessly. “What do you want of me?”