I landed quite softly and, as I scrambled to my feet, the report of a gun nearly deafened me. I spun round. Carla was standing on the belvedere, leaning over the wooden rail so that she could see along the front of the hut. She had a sporting piece in her hands — about a twelve bore — and smoke was curling up from one of the twin barrels. Her scarlet ski suit stood out like a smear of blood against the white background. She broke the piece and reloaded with a cartridge from her pocket. As she snapped back the breech, she noticed me. 'You Stay away,' she said. 'This is not your business.' The gun was pointed at me for a moment. She was like a jungle cat defending her young. Her eyes still had that wild look. She was beyond reason — in the grip of a kind of madness.
Her eyes quickly strayed from me back along the front of the building. She turned suddenly and waded through the snow to the steps. Then she disappeared from view.
I crossed to the rail and leaned over. She was making her way slowly along the front of the building towards the top of the slittovia, her head back so that she looked up to where the glow of the flames showed red in the farthest bedroom window.
Mayne's head appeared at the window. There was a stab of flame as he fired. The scarlet ski suit was jerked back suddenly like a puppet on a string. It turned slightly and sagged. But it fetched up in a sitting position in the snow, and raised the gun. There was a blast of red-and-yellow fire, the crash of a shot and Mayne's head was withdrawn. He fired at her twice after that as she sat huddled in the snow. The second time Carla did not reply.
A moment later Mayne's legs appeared through the window. They were picked out quite plainly in the glow of the flames. Carla slowly raised her gun and fired both barrels. The distance was only a matter of some forty feet. There was a horrible scream of agony. The legs writhed convulsively and were withdrawn. Carla slowly broke the piece and reloaded. The flames brightened suddenly inside the bedroom and then burned red. The glow seemed to sweep right up to the glass of the window and then a great tongue of flame licked up out of the casement, hissing as it turned the snow that hung from the roof to steam. The white icing of snow that covered the roof seemed to draw back from the flames. It wilted visibly. A piece of the gabling fell in. A great column of steam rose hissing towards the cold curtain of the stars. A gout of flame followed it through the gaping rent in the roof. The trees glowed warmly and the snow all round the hut was coloured pink.
Mayne's head suddenly appeared again amidst the flames at the window. He fired three times at Car la. The little stabbing flames of his gun were hardly visible in the glare. Carla fired one barrel. That was all. Then she rolled over and buried her face in the snow.
Mayne dropped his gun. He was pulling at the window frame, trying to drag himself out. He appeared to be wounded. When he was half-out, his stomach supporting him on the window sill, he began to scream. It was a horrible sound — very animal and very high pitched. A draught had been created by the hole in the gable roofing and a great wave of flame rolled over him and roared up out of the window. I saw his hair catch fire. It burned like a piece of furze. The skin of his face blackened.
He gave a convulsive, agonised heave with his hands and fell headfirst from the window, a human torch, his whole body blazing furiously. He hit a drift of snow beyond the slittovia platform. A cloud of steam rose from the spot. The flames were instantly extinguished. A great black hole was burned in the snow.
'The poor devil!' Joe said. He was standing beside me, half-dressed. 'Is that damned contessa of yours mad?'
'I think she's dead,' I said. 'Finish putting on your clothes. I'll go and see if there's anything we can do.'