No sound came from the floor, and I stood holding the pistol by the muzzle to strike him down again if he should rise.

But he did not move, and my fears were not for him.
"Carette!" I cried.

"Carette!" And my love rose suddenly with a cry and fell sobbing into my arms.
"Oh, Phil! Phil! What is it?
I thought you were dead." "Dieu merci, it is he who is dead, I think.

We will see," and I managed a light with my flint and steel and knelt down by the fallen man.
"Who is it ?" asked Carette, breathless still.
"It is Monsieur Torode." "Torode!" she gasped, and bent with me to make sure.

"Bon Dieu, how came he here ?" "That I don't know.