“Now, Madam, you must give me some account of yourself, or else prepare to follow me. What do you here?”
“I answer your questions,” replied Azila, “because forsooth, it pleases me to do so. I came then to attend yonder weak, sick old man, and to bring him food and medicine, for he has none other to attend him.”
“Whence do you come, then?” demanded the officer.
“From a noble and charitable lady,” said Azila; “and perchance it may occur to your wisdom, that it was my cloak, which was seen entering the vault, and which your spies took for one of the conspirators!”
“If you can give no better account of yourself than this, you must accompany me forthwith,” said the officer.
“But, should it not be my pleasure to leave, you may experience some difficulty in compelling me,” replied Azila.
The officer smiled grimly, and was stepping forward to seize her slight figure, which could indeed have offered but a slight resistance to his grasp, when she exclaimed:
“Stand aside, and touch me at your peril!” producing at the same time a paper from her bosom. “Know you that signature?” she said. “Go your way, and leave this old man to rest, who is too ill and infirm to move hence, and learn in future to exercise your bravery on objects capable of self-defence.”
The police officer, with an abashed and scowling look, now prepared to depart; still however shewing some hesitation, as if doubtful of acting wisely; but a significant wave of Azila’s hand, decided him to order his men to withdraw, when they, glad to escape, soon made their exit through the narrow doorway of the vault, followed by their leader.
As their footsteps were heard receding, the old man hastened to close the door, but was checked by Azila.