And nothing happened, as the way had been these days at Windyhough.
CHAPTER XVI
THE NEED OF SLEEP
Goldstein, when he awoke the next morning to find himself laid on the stable straw with a dull ache in his left thigh, remembered the business that had brought him here, and tried to rise. He found himself sick and useless, and, getting to his feet by sheer hardihood, fell back again with a black mist about his eyes. Little by little he began to accept the situation as it stood, and he waited till his head was fairly clear again. He did not propose, so long as he had breath, to abandon his project of securing the blood-money that would secure him a life of ease in the Fatherland; and his troopers, when he gave his commands for the day with brisk precision, liked him better, seeing his pluck, than they had done since the beginning of this ill-starred errand. He reminded them, moreover, of their slain, lying here and there about the courtyard; and revenge is a fire that kindles men’s courage and hard obstinacy.
A little while later, as Rupert peered through the dawn-red snow of the courtyard, he heard a gruff voice from below. It was the sergeant’s who was Goldstein’s deputy.
“I want to come within gunshot of your window,” he said.
“Every man to his taste,” laughed Rupert, glad of any respite from his vigil. “If you need lead, I can entertain you.”
“Under truce.”
“There can be no truce. I hold my house for the King, and mean to keep it.”