He sprang to the floor again, and listened an instant; then, with guarded
movements--for there was fear in the air, fear in the silent room, and at
any moment the rush might be made, the door burst in--he set the lanthorn
and wine-pitcher on the floor, and took up the table in his arms. He
began to carry it to the window, but, halfway thither, his eye told him
that it would not pass through the opening, and he set it down again and
glided to the bed. Again he was thwarted; the bed was screwed to the
floor. Another might have despaired at that, but he rose with no sign of
dismay, and listening, always listening, he spread his cloak on the
floor, and deftly, with as little noise and rustling as might be, be
piled the straw in it, compressed the bundle, and, cutting the bed-cords
with his dagger, bound all together with them. In three steps he was in
the embrasure of the window, and, even as the men in the passage thrust
the lieutenant aside and with a sudden uproar came down to the door, he
flung the bundle lightly and carefully to the right--so lightly and
carefully, and with so nice and deliberate a calculation, that it seemed
odd it fell beyond the reach of an ordinary leap.
An instant and he was on the floor again. The men had to unlock, to draw
back the bolts, to draw back the door which opened outwards; their
numbers, as well as their savage haste, impeded them.
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