"The key is in the lock," he whispered.

Simmonds took from his pocket a pair of slender pliers and passed
them over.

Godfrey looked up and down the street, saw that for the moment there
was no one near, inserted the pliers in the key-hole, grasped the end
of the key, and turned it slowly.

"Now!" he said, softly opened the door and slipped inside. I
followed, and Simmonds came after me like a shadow, closing the door
carefully behind him.

Then we all stopped, and my heart, at least, was in my mouth, for,
from somewhere overhead, came the sound of a man's voice talking
excitedly.

Even in the semi-darkness, I could see the look of astonishment and
alarm on Godfrey's face, as he stood for a moment motionless,
listening to that voice. I also stood with ears a-strain, but I could
make nothing of what it was saying; then suddenly I realised that it
was speaking in French. And yet it was not Armand's voice--of that I
was certain.

Fronting us was a narrow stair mounting steeply to the story
overhead, and, after that moment's amazed hesitation, Godfrey sat
down on the bottom step and removed his shoes, motioning us to do the
same. Simmonds obeyed phlegmatically, but my hands were trembling so
with excitement that I was in mortal terror lest I drop one of my
shoes; but I managed to get them both off without mishap, and to set
them softly on the floor at the stair-foot.

When at last I looked up with a sigh of relief, Godfrey and Simmonds
were stealing slowly up the stair, revolver in hand. I followed them,
but I confess my knees were knocking together, for there was
something weird and chilling in that voice going on and on. It
sounded like the voice of a madman; there was something about it at
once ferocious and triumphant....

Godfrey paused an instant at the stairhead, listening intently; then
he moved cautiously forward toward an open door from which the voice
seemed to come, motioning us at the same time to stay where we were.
And as I knelt, bathed in perspiration, I caught one word, repeated
over and over:

"_Revanche!--Revanche!--Revanche!_"

Then the voice fell to a sort of low growling, as of a dog which
worries its prey, and I caught a sound as of ripping cloth.

Godfrey, on hands and knees, was peering into the room. Then he drew
back and motioned us forward.

I shall never forget the sight which met my eyes as I peeped
cautiously around the corner of the door.

The room into which I was loo