The words were cut short on his tongue. Absorbed in Aurelie, he had forgotten Bregeac; and Bregeac gripped him by the throat from behind with two frenzied hands. The action had been involuntary. Marescal had gripped the girl’s shoulder; he came at him in a fury of revolt at such an outrage. Marescal staggered before his onset and the two men rolled on the floor. There was a furious fight. Both of them were beside themselves with rage, a rage aggravated by their fierce rivalry. Marescal was the more vigorous [[209]]and stronger, but Bregeac was sustained by such a savage jealousy that the issue remained long in doubt.
Aurelie gazed on them with horrified eyes; but she did not stir. Both of them were her enemies, equally detestable.
At last Marescal, who had freed himself from the strangling grip of Bregeac’s murderous hands, was able to make an effort to get at the revolver in his hip pocket. But Bregeac, seeing what he would be at, so twisted his right arm that it was paralyzed. But with his left hand Marescal got hold of his whistle which was hanging on a chain in his breast pocket and blew a shrill call on it. Bregeac tried once more with all his might to get his adversary by the throat. The door was flung open; a man came bounding into the room, and flung himself on to the struggling figures. Almost on the instant Marescal found himself free and Bregeac was looking down the barrel of a revolver about ten inches from his eyes.
“Bravo Sauvinoux!” cried Marescal. “I shan’t forget that little bit of help in a hurry, my lad!”
His rage was still so furious that he was cowardly enough to spit in Bregeac’s face.
“You cad! You blackguard! Did you think you were going to dispose of me as easily as that?” he shouted. “Your resignation, and at once! The Minister demands it—I have it in my pocket! You’ve only to sign it!” [[210]]
He produced a paper from his pocket.
“Your resignation—and Aurelie’s confession. I’ve written it out ready. Sign it, Aurelie. Come, read it. ‘I confess that I took part in the crime on the express, on the 26th of last April. That I fired at the brothers Loubeaux. I confess that—’ In fact it’s a resumé of the whole story. You needn’t bother to read it. Sign! Don’t waste any more time!”
He dipped a pen into the ink-pot and tried to force it between her fingers.
Slowly she pushed the hand of the Commissary aside, took the pen and signed, as Marescal had willed her to sign, without taking the trouble to read it. The handwriting was steady. Her hand did not tremble.