Leicester
snatched a lantern and sprang inside, the two men after him.
The Portuguese waited. The rest of the soldiers waited too,
grounding arms--some in the roadway, others by the wall at the foot
of which they had laid me.

A minute passed--two minutes--and then with a crash a man sprang
through one of the first-floor windows, flung a leg over the balcony
rail, and hung a moment in air between the ledge and the street.
The window through which he had broken was flung up and Leicester
came running after, grabbing at him vainly as he swung clear.

There were two figures now on the balcony. A woman had run after
Leicester. She leaned for a moment with both hands on the balcony
rail, and turned as if to run back. Leicester caught her around the
waist and held her so while she screamed--shrilly, again and again.

The man dangled for a moment, dropped with a horrible thud, and
answered with one scream only--but it was worse even than hers to
hear. Then the soldiers ran forward and flung themselves upon him.

"Hold the lantern higher, you fools!" shouted Leicester, straining
the woman to him, as she struggled and fought to get away.
"Over there, by the wall--I want to see his face! Steady now, my
beauty!"

The woman sank in his arms as if fainting, and her screams ceased.
There was a stool on the balcony and he seated himself upon it,
easing her down and seating her on his knee. This brought his evil
face level with the balcony rail; and the lanterns, held high, flared
up at it.

"Out of the way, youngster!" one of the soldiers commanded grimly.
"That wall's wanted."

He dragged me aside as they pulled Whitmore across the roadway.
I think his leg had been broken by the fall. It trailed as they
carried him, and when they set him against the wall it doubled under
him and he fell in a heap.

"Turn up his face, anyway," commanded Leicester from the balcony.
"I want to see it! And when you've done, you can leave me with this
beauty. Hey, my lass? The show's waiting. Sit up and have a look
at him!"

I saw Whitmore's face as they turned it up, and the sight of it made
me cover my eyes. I heard the men step out into the roadway, and set
back their triggers. Crouching against the wall, I heard the volley.

As the echoes of it beat from side to side of the narrow street I
looked again--not towards the wall--but upwards at the balcony, under
which the men waved their lanterns as they dispersed, leaving the