As she spoke, she rushed through the embrasure and flung open the diamond-paned window.
"See," she said again, drawing Andrew to the window. "They are there below. You can perceive their firelocks gleam in the moonlight from here."
Peering forth, glancing out into the night, he saw beneath the rays of the watery moon, as the light breeze blew the clouds from under it, that what the woman said was true. He could observe the beams glancing on musket barrels and other arms--almost, he thought, that sometimes they glistened on upturned eyes!--could perceive men lurking all round the fringe of the copse which bordered the enormous flagged court in front of the mansion.
Moreover, he knew soon enough that they, too, were seen by the midnight foe--also that that foe was ruthless. As the light of the lamp streamed out into the darkness, it being no more veiled by the heavy curtains of the embrasure within, it served to show the besiegers those two faces at the window. An instant later there was the crack of musketry and three balls hurtled against the stone frame, splintering it, and cutting each of their faces with those splinters.
"Come away," Andrew said, dragging her back and noticing that one of the fragments had struck her cheek, from which the blood began to trickle. "Come away. All in this house are deemed enemies. How should they know there is one here who hates its owner as much as they do."
"How should they know that there are two?" the woman muttered hoarsely in reply. Then she added: "Doubtless, they deem you dead. Since he slew Laurent they would not think he would spare you."
Her words caused Andrew to start. It was true; they must deem him dead! His own instructions had been that, if he came not back in three days, they were to consider him as fallen--murdered--and with Laurent slain they could suppose nothing else. All in that house were enemies, therefore, since few knew of Marion's existence; all to be exterminated as such.
"There must be a truce to our feud for a time at least," he muttered beneath his moustache, while he smiled grimly; "a truce for a time. No need for De Bois-Vallée and me to be fighting with one another, like rats in a pit, while the dogs are outside ready to tear us to pieces. No need for that! Come," he said, addressing the two women. "Come. We must descend. There is no way out here."
Then, all together, they left the room and, making their way to the head of the stairs, looked down over it into the hall below.
And in a moment he knew--as the women knew, too, that neither was there any exit there.