“Come on, Archer,” Hawtry exclaimed.  “There are some of our fellows in a row with these Greeks.”

The door was fastened, but the boys burst in a window next to it, leapt into the room, groped their way to the door, and then finding the stairs, hurried up.  On the landing a dim oil light was burning, but it needed no light to indicate the room in which the struggle was still proceeding.  The door stood ajar, and the boys, with drawn dirks, dashed into the room.

It was a large one.  In the centre was a table on which were strewn several packs of cards; some chairs lay on the ground; the oil from an overturned lamp was forming a great black stain on the green table-cloth.  In the corner by the window, three officers with drawn swords, were defending themselves against the attacks of some twenty Greeks, armed with knives.  In the confusion, none had noticed the entry of the boys.

“Pick up a chair, Jack,” Hawtry said, recoiling from the idea of rushing with his dirk upon unprepared men.

The two lads each seized one of the strong, but light, chairs scattered on the floor, and, with a sudden hurrah, flung themselves upon the Greeks.  Two or three of these were knocked down and the rest, taken by surprise by the sudden attack, recoiled, and the boys were speedily by the side of the assailed officers.

The Greeks drew back, but seeing how slight was the reinforcement, again advanced to the attack.  Three of their number lay upon the ground, and several of the others were bleeding freely.  Upon the other hand, one of the officers leant against the wall, badly wounded, while both of the others had received nasty cuts.  They would, before this, have been overpowered, had they not hastily pulled a small table and a chair or two, so as to form a sort of barricade, across the angle, and so prevented the Greeks from closing upon them.  One of the officers was an Englishman, the others were French.  All were quite young men.  There was scarcely time for the exchange of a word before the Greeks were upon them again.

The boys had again drawn their dirks, but these formed but a poor weapon against the chairs with which several of the Greeks, seeing the inferiority of their knives, had now armed themselves.  Hawtry received a crashing blow on the head which sent him staggering back against the wall, and Jack one on his arm which rendered it useless.

“This will never do,” the English officer shouted.  “Let us make a rush at the scoundrels, and fight our way to the door.  It’s our only chance.”

“Wait a moment,” Jack said, a thought striking him.  Stooping down behind the others, he pulled out a matchbox from his pocket, struck a light, and applied it to the muslin curtains which hung before the window.  In a moment a broad sheet of flame leaped up.  The Greeks uttered a shout of terror and surprise.

“Now!” Jack shouted.  “All together.”