“I advise you to, for if you do not kill me, some day I shall be free again, and then God help some of you.”
Maurice gazed at the candles on the table, and smiled.
“I'm sorry they dragged you into it, Maurice,” said Fitzgerald.
“I'm glad they did. What you want is company.” There was a glance, swift as light. It went to the mantel, then passed to the captive. “Well,” said Maurice, “what is next on your damned program?”
“The other side of the frontier.”
“Maybe,” said Maurice.
With an unexpected movement he sent the table over, the lights went out; and he had judged the distance so accurately that he felt his hands close over the revolvers.
“The door! the door!” a voice bawled. “Knock down any one who attempts to pass.”
This was precisely what Maurice desired. With the soldiers massed about the door, he would be free to liberate Fitzgerald; which he did. He had scarcely completed the task, when a flame spurted up. The leader fearlessly lit a candle and righted the table. He saw both his prisoners, one of them with extended arms, at the ends of which glistened revolver barrels.
“The devil!” he said.