“Who is there?” the earth-man demanded.
“Relief.”
“Advance one and be recognized.”
The officer stepped forward.
“Advance relief.”
The officer brought the relief forward, halted it again, and called out, “Number four!”
Thereat one of the squad stepped from the ranks at port-arms. Cabot himself came to port in unison.
At this point the routine ended. Tilting his gun slightly from its position, Myles suddenly fired two shots, and the officer and the new Number Four sank down upon the parapet.
Instantly the whole squad was in confusion, but before they could raise their rifles to reply Myles and his companions riddled them with bullets.
One of them, more quick-thinking than the rest, dropped prone without being hit, and then cautiously drew a bead on Myles Cabot, who, seeing his enemies all down, had just paused to breathe. Neither he nor his companion saw his hostile move, and Myles’s other man was walking his post, far to the right, in a military manner, so as to attract no attention from the guardsmen farther on.