"Monsieu!" replied the negro.
"Where is Jussieu?"
"He has not yet returned, monsieur."
"Ah, ha! I see! He has either betrayed us or been victimised. Beudant—a rope."
Beudant bowed and hurried from the room.
"What would you do?" demanded Dr. Vernet.
Sir Charles shrugged his shoulders and cocked his revolver. "We must quit Paris, or die in the attempt," he replied. "Mr. Hume, if you wish to live, you will be silent. Fulton, look out of the windows again."
Dr. Fulton obeyed. "I can no longer see any one," he reported.
Sir Charles suppressed a curse. "They must be on the steps, perhaps entering," he muttered. "Ah, Beudant! Thank heaven! Bind him, Beudant. Wait, my friends."
Even while speaking he left the room. The negro passed a rope around my arms and in a trice I was secured. I was wondering keenly what next would happen, when of a sudden I heard a loud swishing, creaking sound, as though a crane were at work in the corridor without. The groaning of wheels and chains was succeeded swiftly with a dull, muffled crash, and a second later Sir Charles returned.