“But you must not fire more than once there; if another fall, there will be but two to deal with, and they cannot watch the casement and force admittance too. Go—I will reload the carbine.”
Philip descended softly and without a light. He went up to the door, and perceived that one of the miscreants, with his arm through the hole where the lock was blown off, was working at the upper iron bar, which he could just reach. He presented his carbine, and was about to fire the whole charge into the body of the man under his raised arm, when there was a report of fire-arms from the robbers outside.
“Amine has exposed herself,” thought Philip, “and may be hurt.”
The desire of vengeance prompted him first to fire his piece through the man’s body, and then he flew up the stairs to ascertain the state of Amine. She was not at the casement; he darted into the inner room, and found her deliberately loading the carbine.
“My God! how you frightened me, Amine. I thought by their firing that you had shown yourself at the window.”
“Indeed I did not; but I thought that when you fired through the door they might return your fire, and you be hurt; so I went to the side of the casement and pushed out on a stick some of my father’s clothes, and they who were watching for you fired immediately.”
“Indeed, Amine! who could have expected such courage and such coolness in one so young and beautiful?” exclaimed Philip, with surprise.
“Are none but ill-favoured people brave, then?” replied Amine, smiling.
“I did not mean that, Amine—but I am losing time. I must to the door again. Give me that carbine, and reload this.”
Philip crept down stairs that he might reconnoitre, but before he had gained the door he heard at a distance the voice of Mynheer Poots. Amine, who also heard it, was in a moment at his side with a loaded pistol in each hand.