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 Simmonds or myself
understood what was happening, Godfrey was back in the room, crossed
it at a bound, and dashed to the door opening into the hall, just as
it was slammed in his face.
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