Then he heard a sound as of an open door, heard a light footfall, turned his head, and saw a gleam of light.
Some one was coming! Without doubt his foes were returning to finish their work. He had not much longer to live.
Down some stairs came the bearer of a lamp, and a cry of astonishment would have escaped Frank’s lips if the gag had not held it back.
It was Mademoiselle Mystere, the masked unknown!
The boy was astonished and dazed for the moment, and, when he had recovered a bit, the woman of mystery was close at hand.
Then he saw something that gave him a shock. She bore the lamp in her left hand; in her right she held a gleaming dagger, on which the lamplight glinted.
“She has been chosen as the executioner!” was the thought that flashed through the boy’s mind. “She has come to kill me! It is probable she is one of the anarchist band, and they drew lots to see who should do the work.
“It fell to her. Well, she shall not see me quail.”
The woman bent over him, holding the lamp so the light fell fairly on his face. She lifted the knife, as if about to strike. Bound and helpless as he was, Frank could not defend himself from the fatal stroke. He looked straight into her eyes—and smiled!
“He fears nothing!” panted the strange woman. “He is the bravest one in all the wide world! It is too bad that he must die!”