"Open and let them in!" he commanded at last.

"I will not!" roared the owner of the place. "I shall be tortured,
and all my house!"

"Open, I said!"

"But they will make us prisoner!"

Kagig made a sign with his right hand. Gregor Jhaere rose and whispered.
One by one the remaining gipsies followed him into the shadows, and
there came a noise of scuffling, and of oaths and blows. As Gregor
Jhaere had mentioned earlier, they did obey Kagig now and then.
The Turks came back looking crestfallen, and the fastenings creaked.
Then the door burst open with a blast of icy air, and there poured
in nineteen armed men who blinked at the firelight helplessly.

"Kagig--where is Kagig?"

"You cursed fools, where should I be!"

"Kagig? Is it truly you?" Their eyes were still blinded by
the blaze.

"Shut that door again, and bolt it! Aye--Kagig, Kagig, is it you!"

"It is Kagig! Behold him! Look!"

They clustered close to see, smelling infernally of sweaty garments
and of the mud from unholy lurking places.