"My feet are cold and I don't mind admittin' it. Hanged if I know what it is, but I don't feel this show a bit real. If it isn't, we're in a fair way to make howlin' idiots of ourselves, and get pretty well embroiled with the law. It's all right for the red-haired boy, for he can take everything seriously, even play. I could do the same thing myself when I was a kid. I don't mind runnin' some kinds of risk--I've had a few in my time--but this is so infernally outlandish and I--I don't quite believe in it. That is to say, I believe in it right enough when I look at you or listen to McCunn, but as soon as my eyes are off you I begin to doubt again. I'm gettin' old and I've a stake in the country, and I daresay I'm gettin' a bit of a prig--anyway I don't want to make a jackass of myself. Besides, there's this foul weather and this beastly house to ice my feet." He broke off with an exclamation, for on the grey cloud-bounded stage in which the roof of the Tower was the central feature, actors had appeared. Dim hurrying shapes showed through the mist, dipping over the ridge, as if coming from the Garplefoot. She seized his arm and he saw that her listlessness was gone. Her eyes were shining. "It is they," she cried. "The nightmare is real at last. Do you doubt now?" He could only stare, for these shapes arriving and vanishing like wisps of fog still seemed to him phantasmal. The girl held his arm tightly clutched, and craned towards the window space. He tried to open the frame, and succeeded in smashing the glass. A swirl of wind drove inwards and blew a loose lock of Saskia's hair across his brow. "I wish Dougal were back," he muttered, and then came the crack of a shot. The pressure on his arm slackened, and a pale face was turned to him. "He is alone--Mr. Heritage. He has no chance. They will kill him like a dog." "They'll never get in," he assured her. "Dougal said the place could hold out for hours." Another shot followed and presently a third. She twined her hands and her eyes were wild. "We can't leave him to be killed," she gasped. "It's the only game. We're playin' for time, remember. Besides he won't be killed. Great Scott!" As he spoke, a sudden explosion cleft the drone of the wind and a patch of gloom flashed into yellow light. "Bomb!" he cried. "Lord, I might have thought of that." The girl had sprung back from the window. "I cannot bear it. I will not see him murdered in sight of his friends. I am going to show myself, and when they see me they will leave him.... No, you must stay here. Presently they will be round this house. Don't be afraid for me--I am very quick of foot." "For God's sake, don't! Here, Princess, stop," and he clutched at her skirt. "Look here, I'll go." "You can't. You have been wounded. I am in command, you know. Keep the door open till I come back."