They went. But he had to put his arm round her on the staircase to support her; she was so shaken.
“My car is near here,” he said. “Do you think you’ll be strong enough to travel all night?”
“Yes,” she said. “It’s such a joy for me to be free!” She paused and added in a low voice: “And such anguish!”
Just as they were leaving the house a muffled report came from an upper story. Ralph quivered; but Aurelie, in her feebleness, did not seem to have heard it. [[251]]
“I’ve forgotten something. There’s my car, down the street. There’s an old lady inside it, the old lady of whom I have already spoken to you, my old nurse. Will you go to her? I must just run upstairs and tell Marescal something. I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes.”
She turned down the street; he ran quickly upstairs.
In his study Bregeac was lying on a sofa in his death agony. A revolver, fallen from his nerveless hand, lay on the floor beside him. Marescal was bending over him. The blood poured from his mouth; a last shudder shook him; he did not move again.
“I ought to have foreseen it,” murmured Ralph. “His downfall—the loss of Aurelie. Poor devil! He has paid his debts.”
He said to Marescal: “Telephone for a doctor and get this business hushed up. Hemorrhage, is what it is. Don’t let there be any question of suicide. At any cost Aurelie must not hear about it at present. She is not strong enough. You can say that she’s ill in the country, staying at the house of a friend.”
Marescal grasped his wrist and said: “Answer me. Who are you? You’re Lupin, aren’t you?”