"What has become of her?" he was saying as he strode up and down; "she has not been here; she could not have come home when we parted at the door of the Vaudeville—the bed has not been slept in. Can she have gone? Is it possible that she has left me?"
He sank into a chair and hid his face in his hands.
"It was too horrible. To see him fall at my feet, struck down just when I—Who is there?" he cried suddenly, in answer to a knock at the door.
"Open, in the name of the law!"
"The police here already! What shall I do?"
"Open at once, or we shall force the door."
The young man slowly drew back the bolt and admitted the two police-agents.
"M. Gascoigne? You will not answer to your name? That is equal—we arrest you."
"On what charge?"
"It is not our place to explain. We act by authority: that is enough. Will you go with us quietly, or must we use force?"