She would have to obey, whatever he told her to do, even perhaps have to efface herself, and wait, in indescribable agony, whilst he, perhaps, went to his death.
But even that seemed less terrible to bear than the thought that he should never know how much she loved him--that at any rate would be spared her; the squalid room itself, which seemed to be waiting for him, told her that he would be here soon.
Suddenly her over-sensitive ears caught the sound of distant footsteps drawing near; her heart gave a wild leap of joy! Was it Percy at last?
No! the step did not seem quite as long, nor quite as firm as his; she also thought that she could hear two distinct sets of footsteps.

Yes! that was it! two men were coming this way.

Two strangers perhaps, to get a drink, or.

.

.
But she had not time to conjecture, for presently there was a peremptory call at the door, and the next moment it was violently open from the outside, whilst a rough, commanding voice shouted,-- "Hey! Citoyen Brogard! Hola!" Marguerite could not see the newcomers, but, through a hole in one of the curtains, she could observe one portion of the room below.
She heard Brogard's shuffling footsteps, as he came out of the inner room, muttering his usual string of oaths.