“I must go now,” I said. “If I am to die I have lived my life in this minute.”
We kissed again, as though it were the last kiss on earth, and I ran down to Strode, my head whirling with joy. Perhaps to him, who had rather anticipated the situation, my delay in coming to his call was not surprising.
“If you don’t look alive,” he said reproachfully, “we shall be taken and strung up, or whatever your friends’ favourite method may be of getting rid of people who annoy them. I dropped one of the brutes and they have drawn off in consequence. Their obvious line now is to attack us on two or more sides, flank and rear; our game is to pick them off one by one till they are not more than two to one. I am only praying for the chance of a pot-shot at that scoundrelly Count.”
All the time he was muttering thus to me we were busily examining the ground floor of the cottage and noting its vulnerable points. Luckily the place was small and plainly built. A narrow passage ran from the front door to the back, having on its one side simply the outer wall and the staircase, on the other the two lower rooms. As luck would have it, the rusty key was in the door of the front room. This with some little difficulty we were able to lock on the outside; consequently all fear of an entry through the front window was obviated. We had now simply to guard the two entrances and the window of the back room.
So we stood, back to back, a revolver in each hand, grimly waiting the enemy’s next move. There was little doubt that an attempt would be made at the back this time. We could not be certain how many men were with the Count; the danger was that a combined rush might be made and a simultaneous entry effected through door and window. From our stand in the doorway of the room we should probably account for at least two of our assailants, but after that numbers would tell at close quarters and our chance would not be worth much.
Realizing this, I made a whispered suggestion to Strode that we should abandon our present position and hold the staircase against them.
“No,” he answered, “we must keep them out as long as we can. We might hold the upper floor for a week, but once let these devils get into the place and the odds would be on their setting fire to it. They can’t do that from outside, thanks to the rain.”
I saw at once the likelihood of that danger, and what an excellent stroke it would be to end Furello’s difficulty. Presently Strode touched me, and I turned, on the alert.
He only nodded towards the window. Something was moving; we could only guess what. Strode covered it with his revolver and waited. Then he fired. His shot seemed to be the signal for a regular volley which was poured into the room, but without touching us in our cover. “Look out!” Strode whispered. “They are bound to come now. Keep the passage!”
Sure enough, as the words were spoken there was a rush from both window and door. We blazed away, each with both weapons, right and left, since anything like deliberate aim was impossible. Our fire was returned; then our assailants seemed to fall back, but we could tell nothing clearly. In the midst of my excitement I heard Strode ask: