He had knelt down by the man-servant’s side. The voice was silent and then began again:
“Give us a better light,” he said to Gilbert.
He was trembling a little, shaken with a nervous dread which he was unable to master, for there was no doubt possible: when Gilbert had removed the shade from the lamp, Lupin realized that the voice issued from the corpse itself, without a movement of the lifeless mass, without a quiver of the bleeding mouth.
“Governor, I’ve got the shivers,” stammered Gilbert.
Again the same voice, the same snuffling whisper.
Suddenly, Lupin burst out laughing, seized the corpse and pulled it aside:
“Exactly!” he said, catching sight of an object made of polished metal. “Exactly! That’s it!... Well, upon my word, it took me long enough!”
On the spot on the floor which he had uncovered lay the receiver of a telephone, the cord of which ran up to the apparatus fixed on the wall, at the usual height.
Lupin put the receiver to his ear. The noise began again at once, but it was a mixed noise, made up of different calls, exclamations, confused cries, the noise produced by a number of persons questioning one another at the same time.
“Are you there?... He won’t answer. It’s awful.... They must have killed him. What is it?... Keep up your courage. There’s help on the way . . . police . . . soldiers....”