An hour later he stood among a few companies of British soldiers in front of the massive stone store-house of the Lavilettes’ abandoned farmhouse, with its thick shuttered windows and its solid oak doors. It was too late to attempt the fugitive’s escape, save by strategy. Over half an hour Nic had kept them at bay. He had made loopholes in the shutters and the door, and from these he fired upon his assailants. Already he had wounded five and killed two.
Men had been sent for timber to batter down the door and windows. Meanwhile, the troops stood at a respectful distance, out of the range of Nic’s firing, awaiting developments.
Ferrol consulted with the officers, advising a truce and parley, offering himself as mediator to induce Nic to surrender. To this the officers assented, but warned him that his life might pay the price of his temerity. He laughed at this. He had been talking, with his head and throat well muffled, and the collar of his greatcoat drawn about his ears. Once or twice he coughed, a hacking, wrenching cough, which struck the ears of more than one of the officers painfully; for they had known him in his best and gayest days at Quebec.
It was arranged that he should advance, holding out a flag of truce. Before he went he drew aside one of the younger lieutenants, in whose home at Quebec his sister had always been a welcome visitor, and told him briefly the story of his marriage, of his wife and of Nicolas. He sent Christine a message, that she should not forget to carry his last token to his sister! Then turning, he muffled up his face against the crisp, harsh air (there was design in this also), and, waving a white handkerchief, advanced to the door of the store-room.
The soldiers waited anxiously, fearing that Nic would fire, in spite of all; but presently a spot of white appeared at one of the loopholes; then the door was slowly opened. Ferrol entered, and it was closed again.
Nicolas Lavilette grasped his hand.
“I knew you wouldn’t go back on me,” said he. “I knew you were my friend. What the devil do they want out there?”
“I am more than your friend: I’m your brother,” answered Ferrol, meaningly. Then, quickly taking off his greatcoat, cap, muffler and boots: “Quick, on with these!” he said. “There’s no time to lose!”
“What’s all this?” asked Nic.
“Never mind; do exactly as I say, and there’s a chance for you.”