Marishka in terror had at first slunk into a corner, listening to the fearful sounds of the combat--following it with her ears from one part of the room to another. What must she do? Gathering courage, she passed the foot of the bed, and grasping for the table found the match box and managed to light the candle.
They were upon the floor near one of the windows over the valley, locked in a deadly grip, breathing in terrible gasps. She must do something to help--something--for as the glow fell upon them they seemed to struggle upward against the wall by the window, upon the sill. She could not make out which was which--but instinctively she seemed to realize their deadly purpose--death for one or both on the rocks below! The hanging at the window came crashing down and enveloped them, but they did not know. They were drunk with the lust of killing--mad!
Out of the confusion she saw Goritz rise smiling, straining with his arms, hauling Renwick over the sill. Death! Hers, too, then! With a cry of despair she reached them, clinging with her arms around Renwick's waist.
Goritz opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came forth. He might have struck her down but he did not. Instead he rose with one foot upon the sill in one supreme effort to throw Renwick over, but the Englishman, already half out of the window, got his right arm loose, and swinging with all the strength left to him, launched a terrible blow at his adversary. It struck him on the point of the chin. Goritz staggered, lost his balance, toppled for a moment in the air, his grip on the Englishman's collar, which tore loose as he fell--out--into the black abyss....
Renwick sprawled half across the wide sill, but Marishka clung desperately, dragging him in--to safety. He toppled in upon the floor and lay motionless while Marishka hovered over him.
Renwick struggled up slowly, trying to speak, but his chest heaved convulsively, and he could only gasp meaninglessly.
"All--right," he managed to utter after a moment.
"You're hurt--you're covered with blood."
Marishka peered toward the window and shuddered.
"Nor I. He almost did for me. If it hadn't been for you----"
"You'd have followed him, Hugh!" And then almost inaudibly, "Holy Virgin!" she whispered.