"Well!" said the thick voice, in German this time, "the door's shut anyway!"
The hut shook to his heavy tread as he stumped in, the fair young German, the brother of the Unknown, at his heels. Noiselessly I slipped out behind them.
They stopped suddenly. Clubfoot was at the door. If they turned round now, I should have to fight for it....
"Na nu!" ejaculated Grundt, without looking back. "The key's in the door. Show a light, Ferdinand!"
I heard the door creak on its hinges, saw the flash-light pick out the vague shape beneath the coverlet on the bed. And then the full force of my error broke upon me. I had left the mulatto's head exposed and, instead of Monica's soft golden-brown hair, Ferdinand's lamp showed us a coal-black woolly thatch.
Clubfoot, half across the threshold, swung round to the young German who was close behind him. But, before he could speak, I pitched myself with every ounce of weight I could command at Ferdinand's back and propelled him and Clubfoot violently into the inner room. I heard the loud crash as they fell in a heap on the floor and a smothered screech from the bed as I slammed the door and locked it.
"Now," I cried to Marjorie, "run!...."