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.

I saw him tear desperately at the knob, then retreat two steps and hurl himself against it.  But it held firm, and from the hall outside came a burst of mocking laughter that fairly froze my blood.

“Come here, you fools!” cried Godfrey between clenched teeth.  “Don’t you see he’s getting away!”

Simmonds was quicker than I, and together they threw themselves at the door.  It cracked ominously, but still held; again they tried, and this time it split from top to bottom.  Godfrey kicked the pieces to either side and slipped between them, Simmonds after him.

Then, in a sort of trance, I staggered to it, and after a moment’s aimless fumbling, was out in the hall again.  I reached the stairhead in time to see Godfrey try the front door, and then turn along the lower hall leading to the back of the house.  An instant later, a chorus of frenzied women’s shrieks made my hair stand on end.

How I got down the stair I do not know; but I, too, turned back along the lower hall, expecting any instant to come upon I knew not what horror; I reached an open door, passed through it, and found myself in the laundry, in the midst of a group of excited and indignant women, who greeted my appearance with a fresh series of screams.

Unable to go farther, I sat limply down upon a box and looked at them.

I dare say the figure I made was ridiculous enough, for the screams gave place to subdued giggles; but I was far from thinking of my appearance, or of caring what impression I produced.  And I was still sitting there when Godfrey came back, breathing heavily, chagrin and anger in his eyes.  The employes of the laundry, conscious that something extraordinary was occurring, crowded about him, but he elbowed his way through them to the desk where the manager sat.