With a crash I had turned it on its side,
wedging it against the door, its legs against the stairs. I
could hear a faint scream from Liddy, at the crash, and then she
came down the stairs on a run, with the revolver held straight
out in front of her.
"Thank God," she said, in a shaking voice. "I thought it was
you."
I pointed to the door, and she understood.
"Call out the windows at the other end of the house," I
whispered. "Run. Tell them not to wait for anything."
She went up the stairs at that, two at a time. Evidently she
collided with the candle, for it went out, and I was left in
darkness.
I was really astonishingly cool. I remember stepping over the
chair and gluing my ear to the door, and I shall never forget
feeling it give an inch or two there in the darkness, under a
steady pressure from without. But the chair held, although I
could hear an ominous cracking of one of the legs. And
then, without the slightest warning, the card-room window broke
with a crash. I had my finger on the trigger of the revolver,
and as I jumped it went off, right through the door. Some one
outside swore roundly, and for the first time I could hear what
was said.
"Only a scratch. . . . Men are at the other end of the
house. . . . Have the whole rat's nest on us." And a lot of
profanity which I won't write down. The voices were at the
broken window now, and although I was trembling violently, I was
determined that I would hold them until help came.
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