standing in hopeless astonishment amid the ruins of the glassware he has dropped, the little band sweeps out of the cafe.
"There will be music at the consul's this afternoon, unless I am greatly mistaken," mutters Barker, as he looks down the dust-veiled road. "And now for my patient. If he dies with his secret unrevealed I'll never forgive him!"
CHAPTER LV.
A SIGNAL FROM MACEDONIA.
Van Zandt and Louise stand, hand in hand, gazing
sorrowfully upon all that is mortal of Cyrus Felton. A
crash is heard below, as the front door is burst from its
hinges.
Van Zandt leaps to the head of the staircase just as the feet of a brace of ruffians are on the lower step. Twice cracks his revolver and his aim is true. One of the Spaniards falls and the second drops back with a cry of pain. Then, as Van Zandt throws himself to one side, there is a flash of fire below, and the bullets whistle harmlessly by.
As he judges, there is no immediate second rush by the attacking party, so he proceeds to examine his surroundings and the result is far from satisfactory. There is no serious danger of the besiegers attempting to carry the staircase by storm. The Spaniard is not lacking in courage, but it requires a considerable amount of sand to lead the way to certain death. But the room to which they have retreated was not built for a fortress and he realizes that the end must come when the enemy will gain access to the second floor—by the veranda or by the rear entrance to the building.
Suddenly his eyes rest upon a ladder at the other end of the short hallway.
