He seemed to take a sort of desperate grip of himself.
"I'll show you, sir," he said, and ran up the steps, along the hall, to the door of the ante-room where we had found the Frenchman's body. "In there, sir!" he sobbed. "In there!" and clung to the wall as I opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was ablaze with light, and for an instant my eyes were so dazzled that I could distinguish nothing. Dimly I saw Godfrey spring forward and drop to his knees.
Then my eyes cleared, and I saw, on the very spot where d'Aurelle had died, another body—or was it the same, brought back that the tragedy of the afternoon might, in some mysterious way, be re-enacted?
I remember bending over and peering into the face—
It was the face of Philip Vantine.
A minute must have passed as I stood there dazed and shaken. I was conscious, in a way, that Godfrey was examining him. Then I heard his voice.
"He's dead," he said.
Then there was an instant's silence.
"Lester, look here!" cried Godfrey's voice, sharp, insistent. "For
God's sake, look here!"