"There was to be. I will see."
He tip-toed to the head of the grand staircase, and peeped over the rail. One of the orderlies was standing bolt upright against the door.
The three men removed their boots, and carried every portable piece of furniture to the doors and windows, piling them one upon another, and strutting them with chairs, towel horses, and other small objects. The chisel proved a useless tool for boring the hard oak. There was a fire in the captain's room. Burton made a poker red hot, and with this burnt a few loopholes in the shutters. After nearly an hour's strenuous work, carried on with extraordinary noiselessness, the preparations were made.
The old marquis was now trembling with excitement and fatigue. His wife gave him some wine, and, while he rested, Burton looked to the weapons. The German's revolver and his own were full. The marquise brought out two more, a rifle, and ammunition, from the depths of a cupboard.
There was now only to await events. It was nearly midnight. How long would it be before the sentry became uneasy at his commander's absence? With German stolidity, and the Prussian soldier's fear of his officer, he might never think of moving from his post. But after a time he would certainly be relieved, and possibly a consultation with the relief would lead to action.
As Burton sat nursing the rifle, he was conscious of a smell of burning, distinct from the smell caused by boring the wood. Pierre had been absent for some little time in the room where the major lay. He came through the communicating door, followed by smoke. Burton started up.
"Have they set the place on fire already?" he asked.
"No, no, monsieur," the man replied, with a strange smile. "I was merely burning some paper."
Thinking that there were perhaps some documents which must not fall into the Germans' hands, Burton asked no further questions. Once or twice again the same grim smile appeared about the old servitor's lips, and Burton concluded that he was pleased at having accomplished a necessary task.
Two hours passed in almost silent waiting. The only movements were those of the marquise in tending her son. Then, about two o'clock, they heard some one try the handle of the door at the end of the passage. Burton had locked it. In a moment there was a tap at the door. No one answered. It was repeated, louder and more energetically. Burton nodded to Pierre.