Frank had no weapon, and so he picked up the stone with which the strange girl had struck Durant senseless.
“One more effort for life,” he thought. “Shall we succeed in getting out of the snare? We must!”
He followed the masked mystery.
They ascended the stairs and reached the door, which opened to her touch. In the doorway she paused to listen. A distant murmur of voices came to their ears. Mademoiselle Mystere made a sharp gesture of anger and dismay.
“They are waiting for Emile,” she whispered; “and they are between us and the door. We cannot get out without passing them.”
“And the door——”
“Is locked, bolted and chained. It cannot be opened quickly.”
“Have you a pistol?”
“No.”
“Your only weapon is your knife?”