“Who are you?... Oh, of course, you’re Monsieur Lenoir’s new secretary.... But what is it you want?”
A man’s voice answered: “Monsieur Lenoir gave me the strictest instructions to bring those jewels back with me; and I must insist on having them.”
“But I have written to him!” exclaimed Bridget in a yet more uneasy voice.... “My maid must have given you the letter.... Why hasn’t she come upstairs? Valentine!”
The door of the boudoir was banged violently. Ralph heard the noise of a struggle and cries of: “Help! Help!” Then silence.
The moment he had grasped the fact that Bridget Rousselin was in danger, he had tried to open wide the trap-door, noiselessly. But it stuck; and he lost precious time in forcing it up. Then he dropped on to the landing, ran down to the first floor and found three doors, all closed, to choose from.
As chance had it the one he opened was the door of the boudoir: It was empty and two or three chairs had been knocked over. An inner door led to the dressing-room. That was empty too. He stepped into the bedroom whither the actress had fled.
The curtains were drawn. In the dim light he saw a man kneeling over a woman prone on the carpet, gripping her throat with both hands, and swearing abominably.
“Hell! You won’t shut your mouth, won’t you? You won’t hand over those jewels, won’t you? I’ll show you, curse you!”
Ralph flung himself upon him. He loosened his grip on the woman’s throat and rolled over. Ralph’s head banged against the fireplace with a violence that dazed him for a moment.
That was unfortunate; and in addition this murderous ruffian was heavier than he, powerfully built, with muscles of steel. It looked as if the slender and youthful Ralph had no chance whatever against him. But there was a sudden groan and the big man rolled over and lay inert, while Ralph rose lightly to his feet.