Perhaps, as it was evident that Tournelli was not with her, she fancied he was still here; perhaps she had mistaken Tom for him! However, her escort quickly rejoined her; their shadows passed the window together--they were gone.
Then a pistol-shot broke the quiet of the street.
The Editor and Quartermaster rose and ran to the door.

Manners rose also, but lingered long enough to whisper to me, "Don't lose sight of Tom," and followed them.

But to my momentary surprise no one else moved.

I had forgotten, in the previous excitement, that in those days a pistol-shot was not unusual enough to attract attention.

A few raised their heads at the sound of running feet on the pavement, and the flitting of black shadows past the windows.