“Then I was right!” he exclaimed anxiously. “I thought—”
The next moment my hand was upon his lips; for, dimly-seen through the narrow aperture left, from which my uncle watched, were four dark figures; while at the same moment there was a sharp cracking noise, as of breaking woodwork, from another part of the house.
“Am I to shoot or ain’t I? Is Mas’r Harry there?” whispered a voice from out of the darkness. “Because they’re trying to break in here.”
“You must fire, Tom,” said my uncle huskily; “and mind this, if they do break in, our only hope is in the kitchen, which is stone built and strong. Make your way there.”
“Right, Mas’r Landell,” said Tom coolly.
Then we heard him glide off.
“Lilla, join your mother in there,” I heard my uncle then whisper.
Directly after I knew we were alone.
“Harry,” said my uncle, “it seems to me that we ought to have beaten a retreat; but it is too late to talk of that. Our only hope now is by giving them a sharp reception. If we can keep them at bay till daylight we shall have a better opportunity of escaping.”
“I don’t agree with you,” I said. “I think our hopes should be in the darkness.”