"Margot will never stand that," said Jeannette. "She means to keep him here till Cleek the Rat comes——"
"Margot! Nom du pipe! If she is Queen, I am King. Leave him to me and give me the key of the door."
Jeannette wheeled suddenly on him.
"What key—what door?" she asked. Then without waiting for an answer she snatched the torch from the wall and thrust it in Merode's face.
He drew back from her piercing gaze.
"Hola!" she cried in triumph. "I was right—it is not Merode!" For Merode knew of the trap-door. And as the man followed her glance toward it he realized his mistake.
"And you, who are you?" she cried.
As the man shrank back she advanced, and with a swift gesture plucked at the matted hair. It came away in her hand, and her own cry of triumph as it revealed the smooth head beneath drowned the Superintendent's cry of "Cleek!" even as he realized the double peril of himself and the man whose friendship was dearer to him even than life itself.
"Aha, I know you now," cried Jeannette. "The great Cleek himself! And it is I who have got you—moi—whom she laughed at."