She seated herself boldly at the window, while I, in my livery coat, waited on her with a tray.
“Afraid!” said she, taking up my words; “that would be difficult. I do not forget that afternoon in the boat, or the gap in the cliff.”
If anything could have put me more on my mettle, these words and the smile that accompanied them sufficed. I could have received an army single-handed.
We waited silently after that. Presently Con below gave a low growl, and Miss Kit’s eyes met mine. “Listen, and you’ll hear them,” said I. Sure enough, through the open window there came the steady plash of oars, and the sound of voices across the water.
It was an uneasy moment, especially when we heard the grating of the boat alongside the jetty.
“It’s time now we went below,” said I. “Leave me here to close the window and pull down the blinds. And, Miss Kit,” said I as she rose, “if any one is hurt this night it shall not be you.”
She laughed a brave little laugh, and replied, “You want too much for yourself, Barry. We’ll share and share alike.”
Then with her cheeks somewhat pale, and her eyes very bright, she went below, and groped her way to her station in the hall.
Meanwhile, as ostentatiously as I could, I closed the window and lowered the blinds; and after moving from one place to another between them and the candles so as to throw as many shadows as possible, I slipped from the room, and ran down the stairs.
At first nothing could be seen, and we only had Con’s growing uneasiness to warn us of the danger approaching. Then through my loophole I saw among the trees a moving light, evidently a lantern, and presently seven or eight dark forms moving doubtfully along the little jetty.