en, and touched some one. In a moment, for his own safety, he had
grasped the arm beside him and then, as he realized that it was a woman
he held, put his hand quickly over her mouth to prevent her crying out.
He could not see her clearly, close as she was to him, but touch brought
conviction.

"For your life, silence!" he whispered.

Mercier's threat to shoot the first man who attempted to go to the
woman upstairs had its effect, no one was inclined to run the risk, yet
several remained about the doorway instead of going back to their wine.
Barrington quickly calculated all the chances. To leave by the inn door
without being seen was impossible; another way must be found, and there
was not a moment to lose. Directly the wine fumes overpowered the man
who, for an instant, dominated the situation, these bloodthirsty
wretches would certainly rush upon their prey. The intention was visible
in their sullen faces.

"You know me, will you trust me?" he whispered. He still held her arm,
his hand was still over her mouth.

She nodded her head.

"Go up, quietly," he said, releasing her.

Jeanne knew him. Few moments had passed since her arm had been gripped
in the darkness, but she had lived a long time in them, and exactly when
she realized who it was who touched her she did not know. It never
occurred to her to think it strange that he should be alive. She did not
ask herself whether she really trusted him. At least, he was different
from those men below, and she obeyed him.

"Is there another staircase?" he asked when they were in the passage
above.

"I do not know."

"There must be," he said, as though their dire necessity would compel
one. "Walk close behind me and tread lightly."

Comparative silence had reigned, only the uneasy shuffling of feet and
the chink of a glass, now the noise of voices broke out again, angry
voices, raised in argument and quarrel. Each moment Barrington expected
a rush up the stairs. If it came, what could he do?

He remembered the position of the windows through which a dim light had
shown in the rear of the house. The kitchen was probably there. If
another staircase existed it would be in the direction of the kitchen.
He turned along a passage to the left, his hand stretched out before
him, lest he should stumble in the darkness. The noise below was
deadened here.

"Might we not climb from a window?" Jeanne whispered.

He had thought of it. He tried to remember whether a tree o