Then, with a wild and startled cry, he staggered back into the room. His face was white as wax, his eyes full of horror, his mouth open.
"What is the matter?" exclaimed Ricardo, springing to his feet.
"They are lifting her out! She doesn’t move! They are lifting her out!"
For a moment he stared into Ricardo’s face-paralysed by fear. Then he sprang down the stairs. Ricardo followed him.
There was confusion in the corridor. Men were running, voices were crying questions. As they passed the window they saw Wethermill start up, aroused from his lethargy. They knew the truth before they reached the entrance of the hotel. A cab had driven up to the door from the station; in the cab was an unknown woman stabbed to the heart.
"She should have come by the omnibus," Hanaud repeated and repeated stupidly. For the moment he was off his balance.
CHAPTER XI
THE UNOPENED LETTER
The hall of the hotel had been cleared of people. At the entrance from the corridor a porter barred the way.
"No one can pass," said he.