MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
shoe, and pressed it back. An instant later, with foot and hand, I had forced down the sash, and swung my body in through the opening. It was a ticklish job to let go my grip on the gutter, but my left hand found purchase on the frame of the window, and I squirmed in, inch by inch, expecting every instant a second shot from the fellow in the arbor. As 1 finally dropped to the floor his musket exploded, the bullet singing through the open window, burying itself in the ceiling, and showering me with plaster. The sharp responsive crack of carbines proved the troopers below alert, while a yell of surprise and pain made me hopeful that one of their shots had reached the mark.
The noise of crashing glass, and my fall to the floor, would hardly alarm the girl, even if she remained on guard in the hall, as there had been so much of similar disturbance during the past half-hour. If the door of this room was unlocked, and I could surprise her, the rest would be easily accomplished. I crossed the room softly, tried the knob, which instantly yielded, and, opening the door a scant inch, peered anxiously forth. Looking first toward the fireplace I saw nothing, and it was a moment or two before I perceived her, sitting on a low stool, the cocked carbine across her knees, at the head of the stairs. Instantly I comprehended her purpose. Confident that O'Brien and I were securely caged, and that Donald would lead his men into the house by way of the secret passage, she was waiting to defend the stairs, to prevent any search of the second story. Her back was toward me, and to creep upon her across that soft carpet would not be a
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