"It's a good job he hadn't his gun at hand," said Walter, "or we should be riddled now like sieves."
He wiped the anxious sweat that beaded his brow away with the back of his hand.
For all that he was a plucky little chap, and knew exactly what to do. He sprang to the wardrobe under which the foxy dog roosted, got out his military revolver, drew back the trigger, and tested the barrels.
Then he said: "Now, oblige me by going into Leichtweg's room. Bolt yourself in. He's simply gone to load, and then he'll be here."
But Lilly wouldn't. Her anger against him had completely evaporated.
"Let me stay with you. Please let me stay."
"It won't do, child," he said, wrinkling his forehead into the old masterful folds. "What is to follow now is man's business."
"Then I shall stay in the passage, and receive him at your door."
He gnawed his moustache. "Well, if you will take it like that, I can't reason with you," he said. "Please be seated."
He took the key from the outside of the door, put it in the lock on the inside and cautiously turned it several times.