To face his pursuers with his pistol from the niche would be gallant, but it would mean exposing himself to death, or going to prison.
Turning about in the niche, Quentin stumbled over a huge rock.
“Let me see. We’ll try a little fake.”
He removed his cloak and wrapped the stone in it, making a sort of dummy. Then he took the bundle in his arms and stepped to the railing of the bridge.
“There he is! There he is!” shouted his pursuers.
Quentin tipped the dummy toward the river.
“He’s going to jump!”
Quentin gave a loud shout, and pushed the stone wrapped in the cloak into the water, where it splashed noisily. This done, he jumped back; and then, on hands and knees, returned quickly to his niche, climbed into it, and pressed himself against the inside wall.
His pursuers ran by the niches without looking into either of them.
“How awful!” said one of the men.