For there was still all that long, desperate traverse of the defile before we could guide our horses to firm ground again.

But while I was thinking bitterly of my first night's sleep (save the mark!) away from the Red Tower, I heard something I knew not the meaning of--the beginning of a new attack, as I judged.
It sounded like a scraping and a crumbling somewhere above.
"God help us now, Jorian!" I cried, in a sudden, quick panic; "they are coming upon us everyway.

I can hear them stripping off the roof-tile overhead--if such rabbit-warrens as this have Christian roofs!" Boris sat down calmly with his back against the earthen wall and trained his pistol upward, ready to shoot whatever should appear.
Presently fragments of earth and hardened clay began to drop on the pounded floor of the corridor.

I heard the soft hiss of the man-at-arms blowing up his match, and I waited for the crash and the little heap of flame from the touch.
Suddenly a foot, larger than that of mortal, plumped through our ceiling of brick-dust and a huge scatterment of earth tumbled down.

A great bare leg, with attachment of tattered hose hanging here and there, followed.
Before the pistol could go off, Boris meanwhile waiting shrewdly for the appearance of a more vital part, a voice cried, "Stop!" I looked about me, and there was the Lady Ysolinde come out of her chamber, with a dagger in her hand.