“No time to argue, Simon,” said the Duke, in a low tone, as he covered his man from where he crouched. “Don’t lose a second when I fire. If you’re not through that window when I get there, it may cost me my life.”
It seemed an eternity, waiting there in the intense cold; it numbed their fingers round the butts of the automatics. There was a sudden crash of shots from the garden, all directed to Rex’s end of the wall. Simon, whose nerves were at the highest pitch, leapt forward into the open. De Richleau’s pistol cracked behind him; in a second almost he was clambering through the empty window frame, the Duke hard behind him. A single bullet hissed through the snow on to the leads; another moment and De Richleau stood panting at his side.
“The fool!” he gasped; “did you see?”
“Ner — what happened?”
“He deliberately stood up to draw their fire.”
“Hope they didn’t get him.”
De Richleau put his head out of the window. A vicious “phut’ sounded in the woodwork near his head. He drew it in again sharply; Simon flashed his torch quickly round the empty room.
In addition to the window through which they had come there was another overlooking the terraces and gardens at the back of the house. “Lucky that wasn’t under the window.” As he spoke Simon shone his torch on a great jagged rent in the floor several feet in width.
“Put out that light!” whispered the Duke angrily.
Simon obeyed; carefully avoiding the hole, he made his way round to the doorway. There was no door, it had been wrenched off.