Something dripped from him on the stone steps.
The light grew stronger, and as I rounded the last turning a third came bounding down, stumbling from wall to wall like a drunk man.

I saw his face clearly, and if ever mortal eyes held baffled murder it was that fellow's.

There was a dark mark on his shoulder.
Above me as I blinked stood my red-haired friend on the top landing.

He had his sword drawn, and was whistling softly through his teeth, while on the right hand was an open door and an old man holding a lamp.
"Ho!" he cried.

"Here comes a fourth.