"Monsieur Duvall is here!" he gasped, and stood silent.
The man on the floor, recovering his senses, began to struggle to his feet. As he did so, Duvall pushed his way past the frightened servant and strode into the room.
"Quick, Monsieur Duvall!" the fellow with the revolver cried. "I am from the Prefecture. I have one of the kidnappers in irons. The other," he pointed to the struggling man on the floor, "is about to escape me. Give me your assistance at once!"
Grace was so astounded by the sudden entrance of her husband, as well as by the kidnapper's words, that for a moment she remained speechless. Duvall bent over the man upon the floor and seized him by the throat.
"Richard! Richard!" Grace screamed, forgetful of Monsieur Lefevre and her own disguise. "Look out!"
Almost before the words had left her lips, the man with the revolver brought it down with a dull thud upon Duvall's head as he bent over the prostrate man; then, grasping his companion by the arm, he rushed from the room.
"Richard! Richard!" screamed Grace, throwing her arms about the senseless body of her husband.
Mr. Stapleton, who had entered the room, regarded her in amazement. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed.
Grace rose, her face white with suffering. "A doctor, quick! He is hurt! My God—don't you see? He is hurt!" As she spoke, she fell back, fainting, to the floor.