‘They’re going to burn us!’
For the first time the true significance of the situation seemed to dawn upon little Jeanne, and she burst into loud hysterical sobbing which was peculiarly unnerving in the tense atmosphere. Meggie crossed over to her and attempted to soothe her, but her self-control had gone completely and she continued to cry violently.
Anne Edgeware, too, was crying, but less noisily, and the tension became intolerable.
Abbershaw felt for his watch, and was about to draw it out when Albert Campion laid a hand over his warningly. As he did so his coat sleeve slipped up and Abbershaw saw the dial of the other’s wrist-watch. It was five minutes to eleven.
At the same moment, however, there were footsteps outside the door again, and this time the voice of Jesse Gideon spoke from without.
‘It is your last chance,’ he said. ‘In three minutes we leave the house. You know the rest. What shall I say to Mr Dawlish?’
‘Tell him to burn and to be damned to him!’ shouted Martin.
‘Very appropriate!’ murmured Mr Campion, but his voice had lost its gaiety, and the hysterical sobs of the girl drowned the words.
And then, quite suddenly, from somewhere far across the fields there came a sound which everybody in the room recognized. A sound which brought them to their feet, the blood returning to their cheeks, and sent them crowding to the window, a new hope in their eyes.
It was the thin far-off call of a hunting horn.