Fronting us was a narrow stair mounting steeply to the story overhead, and, after that moment’s amazed hesitation, Godfrey sat down on the bottom step and removed his shoes, motioning us to do the same.  Simmonds obeyed phlegmatically, but my hands were trembling so with excitement that I was in mortal terror lest I drop one of my shoes; but I managed to get them both off without mishap, and to set them softly on the floor at the stair-foot.

When at last I looked up with a sigh of relief, Godfrey and Simmonds were stealing slowly up the stair, revolver in hand.  I followed them, but I confess my knees were knocking together, for there was something weird and chilling in that voice going on and on.  It sounded like the voice of a madman; there was something about it at once ferocious and triumphant....

Godfrey paused an instant at the stairhead, listening intently; then he moved cautiously forward toward an open door from which the voice seemed to come, motioning us at the same time to stay where we were.  And as I knelt, bathed in perspiration, I caught one word, repeated over and over: 

“Revanche!—­Revanche!—­Revanche!”

Then the voice fell to a sort of low growling, as of a dog which worries its prey, and I caught a sound as of ripping cloth.

Godfrey, on hands and knees, was peering into the room.  Then he drew back and motioned us forward.

I shall never forget the sight which met my eyes as I peeped cautiously around the corner of the door.

The room into which I was looking was lighted only by the rays which filtered between the slats of a closed shutter.  In the middle of the floor stood the Boule cabinet, and before it, with his back to the door, stood a man ripping savagely away the strips of burlap in which it had been wrapped, talking to himself the while in a sort of savage sing-song, and pausing from moment to moment to glance at a huddled bundle lying on the floor against the opposite wall.  For a time, I could not make out what this bundle was, then, straining my eyes, I saw that it was the body of a man, wrapped round and round in some web-like fabric.

And as I stared at him, I caught the glitter of his eyes as he watched the man working at the cabinet—­a glitter not to be mistaken —­the same glitter which had so frightened me once before....

Godfrey drew me back with a firm hand and took my place.  As for me, I retreated to the stair, and sat there feverishly mopping my face and trying to understand.  Who was this man?  What was he doing there against the wall?  What was the meaning of this ferocious scene....

Then my heart leaped into my throat, for Godfrey, with a sharp cry of “Halte-la!” sprang to his feet and dashed into the room, Simmonds at his heels.

I suppose two seconds elapsed before I reached the threshold, and I stopped there, staring, clutching at the wall to steady myself.