king was lighted only by the rays which
filtered between the slats of a closed shutter. In the middle of the
floor stood the Boule cabinet, and before it, with his back to the
door, stood a man ripping savagely away the strips of burlap in which
it had been wrapped, talking to himself the while in a sort of savage
sing-song, and pausing from moment to moment to glance at a huddled
bundle lying on the floor against the opposite wall. For a time, I
could not make out what this bundle was, then, straining my eyes, I
saw that it was the body of a man, wrapped round and round in some
web-like fabric.

And as I stared at him, I caught the glitter of his eyes as he
watched the man working at the cabinet--a glitter not to be mistaken
--the same glitter which had so frightened me once before....

Godfrey drew me back with a firm hand and took my place. As for me, I
retreated to the stair, and sat there feverishly mopping my face and
trying to understand. Who was this man? What was he doing there
against the wall? What was the meaning of this ferocious scene....

Then my heart leaped into my throat, for Godfrey, with a sharp cry of
"_Halte-la!_" sprang to his feet and dashed into the room, Simmonds
at his heels.

I suppose two seconds elapsed before I reached the threshold, and I
stopped there, staring, clutching at the wall to steady myself.

That scene is so photographed upon my brain that I have only to close
my eyes to see it again in every detail.

There was the cabinet with its wrappings torn away; but the figure on
the floor had disappeared, and before an open doorway into another
room stood a man, a giant of a man, his hands above his head, his
face working with fear and rage, while Godfrey, his lips curling into
a mocking smile, pressed a pistol against his breast.

Then, as I stood there staring, it seemed to me that there was a sort
of flicker in the air above the man's head, and he screamed shrilly.

"_La mort!_" he shrieked. "_La mort!_"

For one dreadful instant longer he stood there motionless, his hands
still held aloft, his eyes staring horribly; then, with a strangled
cry, he pitched forward heavily at Godfrey's feet.

CHAPTER XX

THE ESCAPE

I have a confused remembrance of Godfrey stooping for an instant
above the body, staring at it, and then, with a sharp cry, hurling
himself through that open doorway. A door slammed somewhere, there
was a sound of running feet, and before either Simmo