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After two or three attempts
Geoffrey got the rope to the exact length which would enable him to
look round the corner and to strike a blow with his right hand, in
which he held a stout club. Roger Browne then descended by the aid of
the other rope, and fastening it round his body lay down astride of the
roof of the window with his head and shoulders over the end, and his
pistol held in readiness.
It seemed an age to Geoffrey before he heard the sound of a footstep in
the loft beside him. He grasped his cudgel firmly and leaned slightly
forward. For ten minutes there was quiet within, and Geoffrey guessed
that the traitor was writing the missive he was about to send to the
enemy; then the footstep approached the window, and a moment later a
cross-bow was thrust out. A glance at it sufficed to show that the bolt
was enveloped in a piece of paper wound round it and secured with a
string. Steadying himself as well as he could Geoffrey struck with all
his force down upon the cross-bow. The weapon, loosely held, went
clattering down the tiles.


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