H. Bedford-Jones

“ Wemyss helping, they raised the unconscious figure. Across the hall came running toward them Colonel Chou, with the skirts of his studded armor coat flapping like the wings of some ungainly beetle, and with a pistol in his hand.
"The gates have been seized!" he shouted hoarsely. "My men in the gardens are attacked. Is the son of heaven dead?"
"Neither dead nor badly hurt," answered Smith, straining under the weight of Ardzrouni. "Tell one of these guards to lead us to his quarters. Draw your men in upon the palace, and save every shot. ”

“ Smith came upon Colonel Chou. The latter had assembled his riflemen and was keeping up a steady fire upon the advancing throngs. These answered with musket and crossbow, bullets and quarrels singing through the night.
Smith drew the yellow noble aside.
"I'll take charge of these men," he said, "and we'll hold them in check. You attend to getting the nobles, and as many of your other men as you can find, into our compound. You know every one, and you can rally them quickly." ”

“ Even Florence Wemyss, her gaze wide with horror, had not moved.
Across the face of Ardzrouni flitted a brief, sad smile. His eyes found Smith, and he motioned. Then, suddenly, he collapsed and fell backward into his lacquered chair.
At this instant a gong began to boom somewhere in the palace. It was followed by a shot, by another shot, then by a ragged volley. Through a side door of the hall broke half a dozen men clad in quilted armor. One of them lifted a rifle and fired.
Pandemonium broke forth, and mad panic of confusion and terror. Men leaped to their feet, spurning the tables ”