Now there was a knocking and a hammering at the window, and the wrenching of the shutters. He gathered himself together for the next assault. Suddenly he felt that every particle of strength had gone out of him. He pulled himself up with a last effort. His legs would not support him; he shivered and swayed. God, would they never get that window open!
His senses were abnormally acute. Another sound attracted him: the opening of the door, and a voice—Vanne Castine’s—calling to the bear.
His heart seemed to give a leap, then slowly to roll over with a thud, and he fell to the floor as the bear lunged forwards upon him.
A minute afterwards Vanne Castine was goading the savage beast through the door and out to the hallway into the yard as Nic swung through the open window into the room.
Castine’s lantern stood in the middle of the floor, and between it and the window lay Ferrol, the broken bayonet still clutched in his right hand. Lavilette dropped on his knees beside him and felt his heart. It was beating, but the shirt and the waistcoat were dripping with blood where the bear had set its claws and teeth in the shoulder of its victim.
An hour later Nic Lavilette stood outside the door of Ferrol’s bedroom in the Manor Casimbault, talking to the Regimental Surgeon, as Christine, pale and wildeyed, came running towards them.
CHAPTER IX
“Is he dead? is he dead?” she asked distractedly. “I’ve just come from the village. Why didn’t you send for me? Tell me, is he dead? Oh, tell me at once!”
She caught the Regimental Surgeon’s arm. He looked down at her, over his glasses, benignly, for she had always been a favourite of his, and answered: