“I must get away!” said Serge, with suppressed rage; and he walked toward the door of the gallery.
“No! don’t open that,” cried Jeanne, excitedly.
And with a frightened look, she added:
“What if he were behind the door?”
At the same moment, as if Jeanne’s voice had indeed evoked Cayrol, a heavy step was heard approaching along the gallery, a hand tried to open the bolted door. Serge and Jeanne remained motionless, waiting.
“Jeanne!” called the voice of Cayrol from the outside, sounding mournfully in the silence, “Jeanne, open!”
And with his fist he knocked imperatively on the woodwork.
“I know you are there! Open, I say!” he cried, with increasing rage. “If you don’t open the door, I’ll—”
“Go! I beseech you!” whispered Jeanne, in Panine’s ear. “Go downstairs again, and break open the door. You won’t find any one there now.”
“Perhaps he has stationed some one there,” answered Serge. “Besides, I won’t leave you here alone exposed to his violence.”