Straight up to the front door Armande dashed. It was open and he rushed inside. Close at his heels followed the rest of the daring little company. A fusillade of bullets sang about their ears but no one was touched.
Up the winding stairs ahead of them three German soldiers could be seen fleeing. Their escape cut off below they had made for the only safe place left, the tower of the château. Armande was for following right after them, but Jacques restrained him.
"Wait," he cautioned. "They're above you and have us at a disadvantage."
"But they may escape us," protested Armande.
"How can they? They can't leave that tower by any other means than these stairs. They can't possibly escape."
"We must drive them out of there," insisted Armande.
"We will," exclaimed Jacques. "We want to plan the best way to do it though."
"You stand guard at the door," Armande directed one of the men. "Let us know if you see any sign of a German out there."
The soldier took his place and Armande advanced cautiously towards the foot of the stairway. The men were huddled together on the ground floor, irresolute as to what course they should now pursue.
Suddenly a hand-grenade came flying down the stairs, bumped along on the last two steps and then came to rest in the center of the little group gathered there. It was plain to be seen that it was about to explode and that if it did so, practically the entire hand would be killed.