Come on, now.

We may not be in at the death." Atwater had marvelled at the rapid work of the officials in their three-hours' stay at Breslau, and now he admired the skirmishing tactics of the veteran as the three men dodged from side to side while the empty carriage slowly drove down into the open.
The German sergeant threw up his hand and darted forward on the run as lithe forms in rifle green were seen quickly swarming out of the woods encircling the old mansion.

There was no sign of life in the low, irregular hunting-lodge, save a pillar of smoke lazily ascending from the offices in rear.
McNerney was racing along at the German officer's side, his pistol drawn, and Atwater hardly turned his head as a squad of soldiers darted out of the encircling thickets.
"He is in there!" shouted a corporal to the Breslau policeman, now eager to make the capture and share McNerney's promised reward.
The screams of the frightened servants could be heard as the assailants neared the house.

Was it fancy, or did McNerney see a grim, human face glaring out of the window of a round tower at the angle of the facade?
"Here; this way!" cried McNerney, as he stumbled into a little garden where trellised grapevines in olden days made a shaded walk for the Lady of Adler's Horst.
The group of men stopped aghast as a woman dashed wildly out of a door opening into a long conservatory.

Her voice rang out in a last, appealing cry for help.