He drew his revolver from his belt, and taking her by the hand, led her to the stair, and there they stopped, for Marishka clutched his arm in sudden consternation. From the Harim came a sudden muffled noise—as though some one were beating upon a carpet.
"Shots!" whispered Renwick. "We must hurry."
"Shots! What does it mean?"
"I'll explain later. Hurry!"
There were cries now—the shriek of a woman, and above all, a hoarse bellow as of some enraged animal. Renwick had already descended a few steps, Marishka following him, when the door to the selamlik opened, and a female figure clad in Marishka's silk drapery rushed forth. It was Yeva.
"Fräulein——" she whispered in awed tones to Marishka. "Forgive me!" she pleaded. "I have seen. It was beautiful. I could not see harm come to you. His Excellency has been in the street at the back of the house, but when the fighting began came up the rear stairway of the selamlik——"
"Goritz!" stammered Marishka in terror.
"But I have locked the upper door."
"He will come here, Yeva!"
"Excellency must go—if there is yet time."