But Beaumagnan’s wound, slight though it was, rendered him incapable of prolonged resistance. He let go the knife.
At that very moment Leonard moved his head, opened his eyes, and gazed at the picture before him, the two men half risen, clinging to one another in a fighting attitude, Clarice on her knees.
His gaze rested on it several seconds, several terrible seconds, for there was no doubt that, seeing what they were at, he would shoot them down, and rid himself of them. But his open eyes did not see them; they were blinded by the clouds of sleep. His eyelids closed down again over them before the consciousness of what they rested on came to him.
Thereupon Ralph cut through the rest of his bonds. He was free. As Clarice rose, trembling, to her feet, he whispered: “Be quick! Escape!”
She shook her head and pointed to Beaumagnan.
It was plain that she was not going to leave him behind her, a prisoner exposed to the vengeance of Leonard.
Ralph protested; but he could not move her.
Tiring of the conflict, he handed the knife to Beaumagnan.
“She’s right,” he said in a whisper. “One must play fair. Here you are. Free yourself. And afterwards let each look out for himself. What?”
He followed Clarice to the window. One after the other, they slipped over the sill. Once in the enclosure, she took his hand and led him to a gap in the wall.