And now we need no longer grope.  It was a race along the passage and up the winding stair, through the second door, and into the stone-flagged corridor of the Castle of Grosbois, with the oil-lamp still burning at the end of it.  A frightful cry—­a long-drawn scream of terror and of pain—­rang through it as we entered.

‘He is killing him!  He is killing him!’ cried a voice, and a woman servant rushed madly out into the passage.  ’Help, help; he is killing Monsieur Bernac!’

‘Where is he?’ shouted Savary.

‘There!  The library!  The door with the green curtain!’ Again that horrible cry rang out, dying down to a harsh croaking.  It ended in a loud, sharp snick, as when one cracks one’s joint, but many times louder.  I knew only too well what that dreadful sound portended.  We rushed together into the room, but the hardened Savary and the dare-devil hussar both recoiled in horror from the sight which met our gaze.

My uncle had been seated writing at his desk, with his back to the door, when his murderer had entered.  No doubt it was at the first glance over his shoulder that he had raised the scream when he saw that terrible hairy face coming in upon him, while the second cry may have been when those great hands clutched at his head.  He had never risen from his chair—­perhaps he had been too paralysed by fear—­and he still sat with his back to the door.  But what struck the colour from our cheeks was that his head had been turned completely round, so that his horribly distorted purple face looked squarely at us from between his shoulders.  Often in my dreams that thin face, with the bulging grey eyes, and the shockingly open mouth, comes to disturb me.  Beside him stood Toussac, his face flushed with triumph, and his great arms folded across his chest.

‘Well, my friends,’ said he, ’you are too late, you see.  I have paid my debts after all.’

‘Surrender!’ cried Savary.

‘Shoot away!  Shoot away!’ he cried, drumming his hands upon his breast.  ’You don’t suppose I fear your miserable pellets, do you?  Oh, you imagine you will take me alive!  I’ll soon knock that idea out of your heads.’

In an instant he had swung a heavy chair over his head, and was rushing furiously at us.  We all fired our pistols into him together, but nothing could stop that thunderbolt of a man.  With the blood spurting from his wounds, he lashed madly out with his chair, but his eyesight happily failed him, and his swashing blow came down upon the corner of the table with a crash which broke it into fragments.  Then with a mad bellow of rage he sprang upon Savary, tore him down to the ground, and had his hand upon his chin before Gerard and I could seize him by the arms.  We were three strong men, but he was as strong as all of us put together, for again and again he shook himself free, and again and again we got our grip upon him once more.  But he was losing blood fast.  Every instant his huge strength ebbed