The millionaire laughed, and his laugh left the girl troubled and disconcerted. She would have liked to know what lay behind it. However, she kept to her attitude of fear. She must play her part to the end.
"Hark!" Carbhoy turned his head, listening intently. The girl followed his example. "Say——" The millionaire broke off, and his smile was replaced by a look of puzzled incredulity.
A shot had been fired. It was answered by a shot from somewhere close to the house. A look of doubt sprang into his gray eyes, and he darted to the window and unceremoniously brushed the hated Chinaman aside. He drew the curtain cautiously aside and peered out into the bight. Hazel beheld the change of expression and his quick, alert movements with satisfaction. She knew that the sounds of the shots had disconcerted him. He was more than impressed. He was convinced.
Then followed a portentous few moments. The two single shots were converted into something like a rattle of musketry. And intermingled with it came the hoarse, blasphemous cries of men, and the pounding of horses' hoofs racing hither and thither. The man at the window remained silent, his eyes glued to the crack of the divided curtains. He saw flashes of gunfire and the dim outline of moving figures. But the details of the scene were hidden from him by the darkness. Hazel, standing close behind him, rose to a great effort. One hand was laid abruptly upon his arm, and her nervous fingers clutched at his coat-sleeve as though she were seeking support. She caught a sharp breath.
"My God!" she cried in a tense whisper, while somehow her whole body shook.
Carbhoy gave one glance in her direction. His eyes and features had become tense with excitement. With his disengaged hand he patted the girl's with a reassuring gentleness, and finally it remained resting upon her clutching fingers.
"It's a scrap up all right," he said, with conviction that had no fear in it. "But it's their game, not——"
But his words were cut short by the great shouting that went up outside the house. Then came more firing, and the sharp plonk of bullets as they struck the building were plainly heard by the watchers. Hazel urged the man at the curtains—
"Come away. For goodness' sake come away. A stray shot! That window! You——"
She strove to drag the man away in a wild assumption of panic. But the millionaire intended to miss nothing of what was going on. The danger of his position did not occur to him. He firmly released himself from her clutch.