Charlotte appeared walking on tip-toe.

“There are several,” she whispered; “I heard them talking together.”

Grown tired of ringing, they knocked loudly on the door.  The sound of a voice reached the drawing-room, and the word “law” was plainly heard.

“No more hope!” murmured Noel.

“Don’t despair,” cried Juliette; “try the servants’ staircase!”

“You may be sure they have not forgotten it.”

Juliette went to see, and returned dejected and terrified.  She bad distinguished heavy foot-steps on the landing, made by some one endeavouring to walk softly.

“There must be some way of escape!” she cried fiercely.

“Yes,” replied Noel, “one way.  I have given my word.  They are picking the lock.  Fasten all the doors, and let them break them down; it will give me time.”

Juliette and Charlotte ran to carry out his directions.  Then Noel, leaning against the mantel piece, seized his revolver and pointed it at his breast.

But Juliette, who had returned, perceiving the movement, threw herself upon her lover, but so violently that the revolver turned aside and went off.  The shot took effect, the bullet entering Noel’s stomach.  He uttered a frightful cry.

Juliette had made his death a terrible punishment; she had prolonged his agony.

He staggered, but remained standing, supporting himself by the mantel piece, while the blood flowed copiously from his wound.

Juliette clung to him, trying to wrest the revolver from his grasp.

“You shall not kill yourself,” she cried, “I will not let you.  You are mine; I love you!  Let them come.  What can they do to you?  If they put you in prison, you can escape.  I will help you, we will bribe the jailors.  Ah, we will live so happily together, no matter where, far away in America where no one knows us!”

The outer door had yielded; the police were now picking the lock of the door of the ante-chamber.

“Let me finish!” murmured Noel; “they must not take me alive!”

And, with a supreme effort, triumphing over his dreadful agony, he released himself, and roughly pushed Juliette away.  She fell down near the sofa.

Then, he once more aimed his revolver at the place where he felt his heart beating, pulled the trigger and rolled to the floor.

It was full time, for the police at that moment entered the room.

Their first thought was, that before shooting himself, Noel had shot his mistress.  They knew of cases where people had romantically desired to quit this world in company; and, moreover, had they not heard two reports?  But Juliette was already on her feet again.

“A doctor,” she cried, “a doctor!  He can not be dead!”

One man ran out; while the others, under old Tabaret’s direction, raised the body, and carried it to Madame Juliette’s bedroom where they laid it on the bed.