"No; forward," ordered Taras, spurring his horse. "The wretch has set spies to be warned of our approach.... He is here! There, look!..."
He was pointing towards the house, the lighted windows of which one after another were darkening rapidly. The gate, just as they reached it, closed with a bang, and retreating footsteps were heard.
"Try your axes!" cried Taras; and some of the men, jumping from their horses, belaboured the gate with powerful blows. The strong bars were bending, and some already giving way.
But suddenly the door of the villa opened, and between two torchbearers an aged man came forth, bareheaded, and carrying a key--it was Herr von Antoniewicz.
"My good people," he began, "why are you ruining my gate like this? Was there no better way of asking for admittance? There is no reason why you should not come in, if you tell me who you are and what brings you hither at this late hour."
"You know that well enough!" cried Taras; "the wretch is in hiding here."
"Yes," said the old man, continuing slowly and distinctly, "I am afraid we know that he cannot escape you, and I am ready to let you in, on your word of honour that you will harm no one else, and that you will not kill him here, but take him away with you. You see I am anxious to spare my daughter's feelings, who was going to be his wife."
"He seems to have found a worthy father-in-law, anyhow," said Taras, scornfully. "However, you have my word; now open on the spot."
The Armenian did so unhesitatingly. Julko and Nashko with the main body taking up their position by the gate, while Taras and some dozen of the men entered the grounds. About half of them were ordered to watch the exits of the house, the others following their captain inside.
"Where is the mandatar?" inquired Taras of Antoniewicz.