Two men had entered by the open door below--even as he had entered! And as quietly! The imprudence of it! The imprudence of leaving the door so that it could not be closed! He turned, and descended to meet them, his teeth set, his hand on his sword, one conjecture after another whirling in his brain.

Was he beset?
Was it a trap?
Was it a rival?
Was it chance?
Two steps he descended; and then the voice he had heard before cried again, but more imperatively-- "No, Monsieur, this way! Did you not hear me?
This way, and be quick, if you please.

By-and-by there will be a crowd, and then the more we have dealt with the better!" He knew now that he had made a mistake, that he had entered the wrong house; and naturally his impulse was to continue his descent and secure his retreat.

But the pause had brought the two men who had entered face to face with him, and they showed no signs of giving way.

On the contrary.
"The room is above, Monsieur," the foremost said, in a matter-of-fact tone, and with a slight salutation.