It was said with convincing callousness.
Beth walked to the sideboard wondering what a pistol ball felt like asit tore into flesh. Did it kill immediately or slowly? She splashedspirits into two glasses with a shaking hand. She didn’t want to die, fastor slow. She looked for anything she could use to any purpose. Short ofhurling the decanter at one of the men, which would hardly have goodeffect, she could think of nothing.
“Would you gentlemen like some?” she asked, wondering if she could getthem drunk.
“We’ll have our pleasure later,” said the bearded man with a grinunpleasantly reminiscent of his master. Beth shuddered. Perhaps death wasthe least of the evils she faced.
As she walked back towards the sofa with the glasses, there was asharp, high-pitched cry from upstairs. She froze, looking up as if shecould see through the plaster. The sound was not repeated.
“Ah, I wish I could see this one,” muttered Pig-eyes, and the othersniggered.
“So proud and white,” sneered Blackbeard, “She won’t be so white afterhe’s had his way with her. Black and blue and bloody, too.” They bothgrinned at their wit.
Beth sat down abruptly and thrust one of the glasses into Clarissa’shand. “Drink it. It’s vile-tasting, but it helps. Drink.”
She herself took a deep swallow and grimaced as it burned down. Shethought she caught a movement outside the window. By great force of willshe did not look. After a few seconds, she turned to place her glass upona table. Through the lace curtains she saw the edge of Robin’s face and athumbs-up sign. She hastily looked away.
Her heart speeded. She had to struggle not to show the upsurge of hope.Who had Robin found? She didn’t care. Their situation could not possiblybe worse.
Though the men never stopped watching the two women, their other senseswere clearly directed to catching traces of the events in the bedroom.Another cry came, this time more guttural and despairing. It almostsounded like a cry of death. Surely the deranged man wouldn’t kill Blanchefor his pleasure. Why not? They were all to die anyway.
Oh hurry, whoever you are!
There was a crash from above and a heavy thud. Clarissa gasped andspilled her untouched brandy.
The pig-eyed guard licked his moist lips and nudged the other man. “Ifwe’re going to kill the fancy one anyway,” he said, giving up any pretenseotherwise, “do you think he’ll let us have her first? I need a womanbad.”
“There’s a chance,” agreed the bearded one. “There’s the maids,too.”
“That’s right,” said Pig-eyes with enthusiasm. “I forgot the maids. Oneof ‘em’s a bit scraggy, but the other’d do. Gor, I wish I could go now. Ihurt something bad.”
“You’ll hurt worse if he finds you’ve left your post.”
Beth concentrated on keeping her face blank as she sensed movement inthe hall behind the men. She wasn’t sure she was breathing, but her mindseemed clear. Someone was there, and whoever it was was their hope ofsurvival. She reached for her glass. As soon as she saw a figure, sheknocked the crystal onto the floor. It shattered into a hundred pieces.Both men jumped.
Blackbeard took a step forward. “Watch it ?” He stopped speaking.
“You have a pistol against the back of your head,” said the marquess,“and your friend is similarly favored. We can’t possibly miss. Give usyour weapons.”
Beth saw Blackbeard consider shooting her anyway ? Lord Deveril must bea fearsome employer ? but then he gave up his weapon with a curse intoLucien’s hand. It was Robin who took the other pistol, for the man holdingthe gun to Pig-eyes’s head was the one-armed Mr. Beaumont.
“Robin,” said the marquess, “go and find something to tie these two.”The boy dashed off.
“Lucien,” said Beth, leaping to her feet. “You must help Blanche. Hehas her upstairs ...”
The marquess looked at the two men and his one-armed friend, thenbeckoned Beth. When she had carefully moved next to him, he gave her thepistol. “Hold it so, pressed against the bone. If he twitches, justsqueeze the trigger.”
He gave her a quick kiss and then raced for the stairs. To stop.
Beth glanced up, then turned to look, forgetting the man at the end ofher pistol. Blanche was descending the stairs with a long, wicked knifeheld loosely in her hand.
Her gown was torn from her breasts and she was streaked with blood ? amacabre study in red and white except for her eyes which were dilatedblack with horror.
? ?The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures,? ? the actress quoted dreamily. Beth recognized the words of Lady Macbeth. ??Tis the eye ofchildhood that fears the painted devil. . . . Who would have thought theold man to have had so much blood in him.‘”
“Blanche,” said Lucien, rooted at the base of the stairs.
Hal Beaumont shook him and gave him his pistol. “Look to the men. Theyare more likely to require two hands.”
