must be some way of escape!" she cried fiercely.

"Yes," replied Noel, "one way. I have given my word. They are picking
the lock. Fasten all the doors, and let them break them down; it will
give me time."

Juliette and Charlotte ran to carry out his directions. Then Noel,
leaning against the mantel piece, seized his revolver and pointed it at
his breast.

But Juliette, who had returned, perceiving the movement, threw herself
upon her lover, but so violently that the revolver turned aside and
went off. The shot took effect, the bullet entering Noel's stomach. He
uttered a frightful cry.

Juliette had made his death a terrible punishment; she had prolonged his
agony.

He staggered, but remained standing, supporting himself by the mantel
piece, while the blood flowed copiously from his wound.

Juliette clung to him, trying to wrest the revolver from his grasp.

"You shall not kill yourself," she cried, "I will not let you. You are
mine; I love you! Let them come. What can they do to you? If they
put you in prison, you can escape. I will help you, we will bribe the
jailors. Ah, we will live so happily together, no matter where, far away
in America where no one knows us!"

The outer door had yielded; the police were now picking the lock of the
door of the ante-chamber.

"Let me finish!" murmured Noel; "they must not take me alive!"

And, with a supreme effort, triumphing over his dreadful agony, he
released himself, and roughly pushed Juliette away. She fell down near
the sofa.

Then, he once more aimed his revolver at the place where he felt his
heart beating, pulled the trigger and rolled to the floor.

It was full time, for the police at that moment entered the room.

Their first thought was, that before shooting himself, Noel had shot his
mistress. They knew of cases where people had romantically desired
to quit this world in company; and, moreover, had they not heard two
reports? But Juliette was already on her feet again.

"A doctor," she cried, "a doctor! He can not be dead!"

One man ran out; while the others, under old Tabaret's direction, raised
the body, and carried it to Madame Juliette's bedroom where they laid it
on the bed.

"For his sake, I trust his wounds are mortal!" murmured the old
detective, whose anger left him at the sight. "After all, I loved him as
though he were my own child; his name is still in my will!"

Old Tabaret stopped. Noel just then uttered a groan, and opened his
e