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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"The House of the Wolf; a romance"

Yet they would
no doubt guess the way we had escaped, and hasten to cut off our
retreat below. For a moment I looked at the door of our room,
half-minded to attack it, and fight our way out, taking the
chance of reaching the street before Bezers' folk should have
recovered from their surprise and gone down. But then I looked
at Madame. How could we ensure her safety in the struggle?
While I hesitated the choice was taken from us. We heard voices
in the house below, and heavy feet on the stairs.
We were between two fires. I glanced irresolutely round the bare
garret, with its sloping roof, searching for a better weapon. I
had only my dagger. But in vain. I saw nothing that would
serve. "What will you do?" Madame de Pavannes murmured,
standing pale and trembling by the hearth, and looking from one
to another. Croisette plucked my sleeve before I could answer,
and pointed to the box-bed with its scanty curtains. "If they
see us in the room," he urged softly, "while they are half in and
half out, they will give the alarm.


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