“Be quick,” he said in an undertone. “He may wake at any moment.”
The giant who had followed Louis stepped forward at this command from his chief. He stopped three feet from the side of the bed. I could see him outlined against the window though it must have been all dark to him. He poised the great clumsy weapon for a minute, and then swung it about his head. The blade sang through the air and fell across my bed with a deep thud. But for Meg I should have been lying there!
“My God!” shrieked the giant; and I never heard such agony in a human voice.
“What is it?” cried the patroon in alarm, at the same time springing into the room.
“There is no one here,” answered the man who had made this attack upon my bed.
“So much the worse for you,” returned his master. “Quick; we must get out of here. He is probably down stairs upon the terrace. He may come back.”
Then I beheld a scene the meaning of which I could but guess. The fellow who, from his size, could have overmatched both the patroon and the dwarf, cast away his sword, which fell with a loud clash upon the wooden floor. He forgot all caution in his abject terror. He threw himself before the patroon and clung to his knees.
“Mercy, mercy,” he pleaded. “Have mercy.”
“Hush,” answered his master. “I offered you life for life. The man is not here. It cannot be. You are doomed.”
“I cannot die, I cannot die, I cannot die,” he wailed.