The leader of the party, thrust forward by those behind him, was lifted to the forbidden step.
"I warned you," cried Wogan, and his sword darted out.

But whether from design or accident, the man uttered a cry and stumbled forward on his face.

Wogan's sword flashed over his shoulder, and its point sank into the throat of the soldier behind him.

That second soldier fell back, with the blood spurting from his wound, upon the man with the smoking pistol, who thrust him aside with an oath.
"Make room," he cried, and lunged over the fallen leader.
"Here's a fellow in the most desperate hurry," said Wogan, and parrying the thrust he disengaged, circled, disengaged again, and lunging felt the soldier's leather coat yield to his point.

"The Emperor's arm is weak, too, one might believe," he laughed, and he drove his sword home.
The man fell upon the stairs; but as Wogan spoke the leader crouched on the step plucked violently at his cloak below his knees.