"Howbeit," says I, scowling blacker than ever, "I will get me out of your sight—"
"Aye, but the ladder is gone!"
"No matter," says I, "better a broken neck to-night than a noose to-morrow. To-morrow, aye, the dawn is like to see an end of the feud and the Conisbys both together—"
"And so shameful an end!" says she. At this, I turned my back on her, for anger was very strong in me. So, nothing speaking, I got to my knees that I might come at the trap beneath her berth; but next moment I was on my feet glaring round for some weapon to my defence, for on the air was sudden wild tumult and hubbub, a running of feet and confused shouting that waxed ever louder. Then, as I listened, I knew it was not me they hunted, for now was the shrill braying of a trumpet and the loud throbbing of a drum:
"Martin—O Martin Conisby!" She stood with hands clasped and eyes wide in a dreadful expectancy, "What is it?" she panted, "O what is it? Hark—what do they cry!"
Rigid and motionless we stood to listen; then every other emotion was 'whelmed and lost in sudden, paralysing fear as, above the trampling rush of feet, above the shrill blast of tucket and rolling of drum we caught the awful word "Fire!"
"Now God help us all!" cries she, wringing her hands; then sinking to her knees, she leaned, half-swooning, against the door, yet I saw her pallid lips moving in passionate supplication.
As for me (my first panic over) I sat me on her bed revolving how I might turn the general confusion to the preservation of my life. In this I was suddenly aroused by my lady's hand on my bowed shoulder.
"Hark!" cries she, "Hark where they cry for aid!"
"Why so they do," says I. "And so they may!"