“They can’t—can’t harm us together,” she stammered. “Hark! Listen! Can you hear? Oh, can you hear?”
“Give me my pistol,” he tried to say, but his tongue seemed twisted. “No—by God—Sanang shall not touch you.”
She stooped lithely and recovered the weapon. “Hush,” she said close to his burning face. “Listen. Our minds are safe! I can hear somebody’s soul bidding its body farewell!”
White-lipped she burst out laughing, kicked the shroud out of the way, thrust the pistol into his right hand, went forward, forcing him along beside her, and drew the bolts from the door.
Suddenly he spoke distinctly:
“Is there anything outside that door on the landing?”
“Yes.... I don’t know what. Are you ready?” She laid her hand on lock and knob.
He nodded. At the same instant she jerked open the door; and a hunchback who had been picking at the lock fell headlong into the room, his pistol exploding on the carpet in a streak of fire.
It was a horrible struggle to secure the powerful misshapen creature, for he clawed and squealed and bounced about on the floor, striking blindly with ape-like arms. But at last Cleves held him down, throttled and twitching, and Tressa ripped strips from the shroud to truss up the writhing thing.
Then Cleves switched on the light.