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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"The Prisoner of Zenda"

Suddenly I perceived that the gateway was broader than the bridge;
there was a dark corner on the opposite side where a man could stand. I
darted across and stood there. Thus placed, I commanded the path, and no
man could pass between the chateau and the old Castle till he had tried
conclusions with me.
There was another shriek. Then a door was flung open and clanged against
the wall, and I heard the handle of a door savagely twisted.
"Open the door! In God's name, what's the matter?" cried a voice--the
voice of Black Michael himself.
He was answered by the very words I had written in my letter.
"Help, Michael--Hentzau!"
A fierce oath rang out from the duke, and with a loud thud he threw
himself against the door. At the same moment I heard a window above my
head open, and a voice cried: "What's the matter?" and I heard a man's
hasty footsteps. I grasped my sword. If De Gautet came my way, the Six
would be less by one more.
Then I heard the clash of crossed swords and a tramp of feet and--I
cannot tell the thing so quickly as it happened, for all seemed to come
at once. There was an angry cry from madame's room, the cry of a wounded
man; the window was flung open; young Rupert stood there sword in hand.
He turned his back, and I saw his body go forward to the lunge.


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