Here, too, on the second landing the door on the right had been left on the latch.

He pushed it open and entered.
As is usual even in the meanest lodgings in Paris houses, a small antechamber gave between the front door and the main room.

When Percy entered the antechamber was unlighted, but the door into the inner room beyond was ajar.

Blakeney approached it with noiseless tread, and gently pushed it open.
That very instant he knew that the game was up; he heard the footsteps closing up behind him, saw Armand, deathly pale, leaning against the wall in the room in front of him, and Chauvelin and Heron standing guard over him.
The next moment the room and the antechamber were literally alive with soldiers--twenty of them to arrest one man.
It was characteristic of that man that when hands were laid on him from every side he threw back his head and laughed--laughed mirthfully, light-heartedly, and the first words that escaped his lips were: "Well, I am d--d!" "The odds are against you, Sir Percy," said Chauvelin to him in English, whilst Heron at the further end of the room was growling like a contented beast.
"By the Lord, sir," said Percy with perfect sang-froid, "I do believe that for the moment they are." "Have done, my men--have done!" he added, turning good-humouredly to the soldiers round him.

"I never fight against overwhelming odds.