“If we have to run for it, do you think you’ll faint?” whispered Rex. “Just put me wise if you think it’s likely. I could carry two like you; but don’t do it on me without warning.”
“I shall not faint,” the Duke assured him, “I’ve lost very little blood. If we’re separated we rendezvous on Marie Lou’s cottage, remember — but in no circumstances until we’ve thrown off the pursuit.”
“We shan’t be separated,” said Rex briefly. “All set?”
For answer De Richleau left the porch, and began to creep along in the deep shadow of the outside wall. On their other side they were protected by thick shrubberies; but for the stars above it was black as pitch. The bushes were a splendid screen, but had the disadvantage that they rustled at every movement.
The Duke suppressed an oath as he stumbled over the body of the man that Simon had shot from the landing window. He was quite dead. They passed the low brew-house where they had been held prisoner, and beneath the higher level of the wall behind which they had sheltered. With the wall the shrubbery ended.
They peered out from the last bushes, straining their eyes and ears for the least movement. If Leshkin had gone for reinforcements it seemed impossible that he had not left the rest of his men posted about the grounds to keep watch. Yet there was no sign of them.
Rex crept forward into the open, his automatic held ready for instant action. De Richleau followed, peering into the shadows on the right. The snow silenced their footfalls. They rounded the corner of the first outhouse.
Almost simultaneously Rex and the black shadow fired at point-blank range. The Russian pitched forward with a sharp cry. Rex crashed backwards, carrying De Richleau with him as he fell.
The Duke’s pistol went off with the impact, the bullet hissing through the trees. He rolled from under Rex, and covered the Russian from his position on the ground. It was unnecessary. The man lay, face downward, a pool of blood running from his head, staining the snow.
Rex lay where he had fallen. His groans were terrible. He writhed in agony on the ground. De Richleau asked no questions. He staggered to his feet, changed his pistol to his right hand, and, seizing Rex by the collar, dragged him back in the shelter of the bushes.