"We might defend the staircase," he muttered.

"Two men might hold it for a time." "We have no food." "No." Suddenly he gripped La Tribe's arm.

"I have it!" he cried.

"And it may do! It must do!" he continued, his face working.

"See!" And lifting from the floor one of the ragged pallets, from which the straw protruded in a dozen places, he set it flat on his head.
It drooped at each corner--it had seen much wear--and, while it almost hid his face, it revealed his grimy chin and mortar-stained shoulders.