“Aren’t you afraid to stay with your husband? In one of his fits of insane jealousy he might kill you.”
“Oh, no,” she assured me; “’e beat me, but ’e no kill me; ’e love me too much. It make ’im too sad if I die. But tell me vy Andrè ’e send ze police for ’is ’at?”
Before I could answer her, I heard a crash in the hall, and two voices raised in vehement altercation. One of the voices belonged to my boy; the other, I didn’t recognise.
“My ’usban’,” whispered Madame Argot; “’e kill you.”
She was as pale as death, and trembling with terror.
“No, you don’t, sir; no, you don’t,” I heard the boy say. “Nobody goes into the Doctor’s office, without being announced, while I’m here.”
I rushed to the door leading into the hall, and had only just time to turn the key before a heavy mass was hurled against it. Luckily, the door was pretty solid, but it couldn’t stand many such onslaughts. Quickly locking the other one, which opened into the waiting-room, I turned back to Madame Argot. What was to be done with her? For I was far from sharing her belief in her own safety. My office has only one other means of exit, as you know. This is a third door leading to my bed-room and bath-room. I decided at once that it was useless trying to hide Madame in either of these places. Any moment the door might give way before her husband’s insane strength, and, then, it would infuriate him still more to find his wife in such a compromising position. No, the window, which opened on a small court, was our only hope. It was not a big drop to the ground, and, once there, she could easily make her way to the street, through the janitor’s apartment. Without a word, I seized her and dragged her to the window.
“Put your feet out,” I whispered; “give me your hands, and now let yourself go. It won’t hurt you, and you will be able to escape through the basement.”
“I cannot; I am afraid,” she murmured, drawing back.
A pistol shot rang out, followed by the sound of splintering wood. I had no time to turn around, and see what had happened.