A cruel-looking knife and a naked arm projected through the panelling
The knife flickered for a second over the breast of the sleeping Castell as though it were a living thing that chose the spot where it would strike. One second—only one—for the next Peter had drawn himself up, and with a sweep of the sword which lay unscabbarded at his side, had shorn that arm off above the elbow, just where it projected from the panelling.
“What was that?” asked Castell again, as something fell upon him.
“A snake,” answered Peter, “a poisonous snake. Wake up now, and look.”
Castell obeyed, staring in silence at the horrible arm which still clasped the great knife, while from beyond the panelling there came a stifled groan, then a sound as of a heavy body stumbling away.
“Come,” said Peter, “let us be going, unless we would stop here for ever. That fellow will soon be back to seek his arm.”
“Going! How?” asked Castell.
“There seems to be but one road, and that a rough one, through the window and over the wall,” answered Peter. “Ah! there they come; I thought so.” And as he spoke they heard the sound of men scrambling up the ladder.