“Go,” said Steinmetz, “and put on your doctor’s clothes. I can keep them back for a few minutes.”
There was no time to be lost. Paul slipped away, leaving Steinmetz alone at the summit of the state stairway, standing grimly, revolver in hand.
In the drawing-room Paul found Maggie, alone.
“Where is Etta?” he asked.
“She left the room some time ago.”
“But I told her to stay,” said Paul.
To this Maggie made no answer. She was looking at him with an anxious scrutiny.
“Did they shoot at you?” she asked.
“Yes; but not straight,” he answered, with a little laugh, as he hurried on.
In a few moments he was back in the drawing-room, a different man, in the rough, stained clothes of the Moscow Doctor. The din on the stairs was louder. Steinmetz was almost in the door-way. He was shooting economically, picking his men.