De Casimir caught the gleam of jewellery, and went hurriedly
downstairs.
"What are you doing there, my friend?" he asked, and the words were
scarcely out of his mouth, when Barlasch extinguished his candle.
There followed a dead silence, such as comes when a rodent is
disturbed at his work. The two men on the cellar-stairs were
conscious of the gaze of the bright, rat-like eyes below.
De Casimir turned and followed Charles upstairs again.
"Come up," he said, "and go to your post."
There was no movement in response.
"Name of a dog," cried de Casimir, "is all discipline relaxed? Come
up, I tell you, and obey my orders."
He emphasized his command with the cocking of a pistol, and a slight
disturbance in the darkness of the cellar heralded the unwilling
approach of Barlasch, who climbed the stairs step by step like a
schoolboy coming to punishment.
"It is I who found the door, mon colonel, behind that pile of
firewood. It is I who opened it. What is down there is mine," he
said, sullenly. But the only reply that de Casimir made was to
seize him by the arm and jerk him away from the stairs.
"To your post," he said, "take your arm, and out into the street, in
front of the house. That is your place."
But while he was still speaking, they were all startled by a sudden
disturbance in the cellar, and in the gloom a man stumbled up the
stairs and ran past them. Barlasch had taken the precaution of
bolting the huge front door, which was large enough to give passage
to a carriage.
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