"Who?"
"The major--Schwikkard, the accursed spy, and his man. I heard what they said. 'The old marquis is a bitter enemy of Germany,' said Schwikkard. 'He fought against us in '70. He is a dangerous man. Now, if the west wing of the château caught fire--caught fire, you understand--say, in the early morning.' ... They are not there, monsieur?"
"No. Go on."
"'Caught fire!' he said. Mon Dieu! 'In the early morning--not too early, for that would disturb the sleep of some good Germans; but not too late, for that would bring the whole village here. If the west wing were burned, and all in it'--all in it, monsieur!--'it would be a good thing for Germany. Understand,' he said, 'it will be an accident. We should all try to put the fire out, but we should not succeed, naturally. These old places burn well. You understand? Well then, good-night--and see that you don't call me too soon--versteht sich!' The orderly chuckled, monsieur. Mon Dieu! Monsieur et madame, le pauvre capitaine! Ah ciel! Quelle horreur!"
IV
The old man sank back in his chair, half fainting. Burton gave him more brandy. Aghast at the atrocious villainy of the scheme--incredible but for the crimes which had already stained the German arms--he was for the moment unable to think of anything but the scene he saw in imagination--flames illuminating the dawn, eating away the staircase, enclosing the three helpless people above in a fiery furnace.
The old man groaned aloud.
"Take care!" whispered Burton. "Tell me, are there arms in the house?"
"Why, yes, monsieur; a rifle and two revolvers, in the captain's room--well hidden, par exemple!"
"Is there a back staircase to the upper rooms?"