The big clock over the castle boomed out the hour, and at the same instant there arose a roar like the voice of the surf on a Malabar shore. There was a crashing of glass almost in the room itself. Already Steinmetz was drawing the curtains closer over the windows in order to prevent the light from filtering through the interstices of the closed shutters. "Only stones," he said to Paul, with his grim smile; "it might have been bullets." As if in corroboration of his suggestion the sharp ring of more than one fire-arm rang out above the dull roar of many voices. Steinmetz crossed the room to where Etta was standing, white-lipped, by the fire. Her clenched hand was gripping Maggie's wrist. She was half hidden behind her cousin. Maggie was looking at Paul. Etta was obviously conscious of Steinmetz's gaze and approach. "I asked you before to tell me all you knew," he said. "You refused. Will you do it now?" Etta met his glance for a moment, shrugged her shoulders, and turned her back on him. Paul was standing in the open door-way with his back turned toward them--alone. The palace had never looked so vast as it did at that moment--brilliantly lighted, gorgeous, empty. Through the hail of blows on the stout doors, the rattle of stones at the windows, the prince could hear yells of execration and the wild laughter that is bred of destruction. He turned and entered the room. His face was gray and terrible. "They have no chance," he said, "of effecting an entrance by force; the lower windows are barred. They have no ladders, Steinmetz and I have seen to that. We have been expecting this for some days." He turned toward Steinmetz as if seeking confirmation. The din was increasing. When the German spoke he had to shout. "We can beat them back if we like. We can shoot them down from the windows. But"--he paused, shrugged his shoulders, and laughed--"what will you! This prince will not shoot his father's serfs." "We must leave you," went on Paul. "We must beware of treachery. Whatever happens, we shall not leave the house. If the worst comes, we make our last stand in this room. Whatever happens, stay here till we come." He left the room, followed by Steinmetz. There were only three doors in the impregnable stone walls; the great entrance, a side door for use in times of deep snow, and the small concealed entrance by which the starosta was in the habit of reaching his masters. For a moment the two men stood at the head of the stairs listening to the wild commotion. They were turning to descend the state stairs when a piercing shriek, immediately drowned by a yell of triumph, broke the silence of the interior of the castle. There was a momentary stillness, followed by another shriek. "They are in!" said Steinmetz. "The side door." And the two men looked at each other with wide eyes full of knowledge.