"Drop that, or by——" and Duclair punctuated the sentence with the significant raising of his own weapon.
Seeing the pistol levelled Mrs. Breakspear, with uplifted arms, flung herself forward to shield her husband.
Simultaneously with her movement came a deadly click from Marville's weapon, followed instantly by a loud bang. The report was accompanied by a cry of "Ah! Eric!" and by the fall of a body—sounds that sent a cold thrill to the hearts of those who heard them.
There, amid faint wreaths of bluish smoke, lay Mrs. Breakspear, prostrate on the carpet, her forehead disfigured by a spot from which came the slow ooze of blood.
"O, you have shot my mother!" wailed Idris, casting a look of anguish at his father.
The little fellow dropped on his knees beside her, but it was only a piece of clay upon which he now gazed: his mother was gone forever: was as much a part of the past as the dead Cæsars of history. Dread change, and all the work of a moment!
"Edith! my wife! O God, I have killed her!"
Dropping the weapon Eric Marville staggered forward to lift up the dead form and implore forgiveness from her who was beyond power to grant it, but ere he could reach the fallen figure, strong hands were laid upon him, and a pair of steel manacles was clasped upon his wrists.
"Mon Dieu! who has done this?" cried one of the gendarmes, appalled at the sight.
"The prisoner," responded the governor. "Take notice, all of you, that my weapon is undischarged."