"I saw some tin cases in the room above."
"Filled with forged notes, beyond doubt. But what's this? Do you smell burning?"
"Smoke--wood smoke. D'you hear the crackling? They have fired the tower."
"Not they. They won't burn their notes. They want to drive us above. It is very ingenious--and very unpleasant."
The pungent smoke from burning wood rolled up the staircase in ever-increasing volume. Percy came running down, carrying, not an iron bar, but an assegai taken from the wall of the top room.
"Didn't notice it before," he said.
"Run up again and open the door to the roof," said his uncle. "We may as well stave off asphyxia as long as we can."
Armstrong caught sight of a head peering up from the round of the wall below. He raised his hand suddenly as if to fire. The head disappeared.
"Spying to see if we have gone," chuckled Mr. Pratt.
With the opening of the door above, the smoke rose more rapidly. Mr. Pratt coughed.