Meanwhile the sergeant, followed by one of his soldiers, went up the stairs to the garret. When the fugitive heard the noise their boots and spurs made, he must have realized his danger, for they heard the thud of a body as he threw himself against the door, then the turning of a key in the lock, and then a murmur of voices.
The sergeant drew his sword, went up to the door behind which he had heard the voices, and knocked with the hilt of his weapon.
“Open in the name of the law!” he shouted in a thundrous voice.
“Wait a moment, I’m dressing,” came the answer from within.
After a minute had elapsed, the sergeant exclaimed impatiently:
“Come, come! Open the door!”
“Wait just a second.”
“I won’t wait a minute longer. Open: I promise not to hurt you.”
“Words are air, and the wind carries them all away,” replied the fugitive ironically.
“Will you open, or will you not?”