For some time there had been no further assault.
"I wish I knew how many there were," Chepstow said, in a low voice.
"Would that do any good?"
The man moved his shoulders in something like a despairing shrug.
"Would anything do any good?"
"Nothing I can think of," Betty murmured bitterly.
"I thought if there were say only a dozen I might open this door. We have the repeating-rifles."
The man's eyes as he spoke glittered with a fierce light. Betty saw it, and somehow it made her shiver.
It brought home to her their extremity even more poignantly than all that had gone before. When a brave churchman's thoughts concentrated in such a direction she felt that their hopes were small indeed.
She shook her head.