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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"Count Hannibal A Romance of the Court of France"

But the dinginess was
naught to the two who knelt looking into it, afraid to move. Was the
place empty? That was the point; the question which had first stayed,
and then set their pulses at the gallop.
Painfully their eyes searched each huddle of clothing, scanned each
dubious shape. And slowly, as the silence persisted, their heads came
forward until the whole floor lay within the field of sight. And still
no sound! At last Tignonville stirred, crept through the doorway, and
rose up, peering round him. He nodded, and, satisfied that all was safe,
the minister followed him.
They found themselves a pace or so from the head of a narrow staircase,
leading downwards. Without moving, they could see the door which closed
it below. Tignonville signed to La Tribe to wait, and himself crept down
the stairs. He reached the door, and, stooping, set his eye to the hole
through which the string of the latch passed. A moment he looked, and
then, turning on tiptoe, he stole up again, his face fallen.
"You may throw the handle after the hatchet!" he muttered. "The man on
guard is within four yards of the door." And in the rage of
disappointment he struck the air with his hand.
"Is he looking this way?"
"No. He is looking down the passage towards our room.


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