"Oh, why does she stay?" thought Véronique. "Is there anything to betray my presence? My clothes? . . ."
She thought that it was more likely Stéphane, whose attitude did not appear natural and whose bonds did not wear their usual aspect.
Suddenly there was a movement outside, followed by a whistle and a second whistle.
Then from the far end of the passage came another sound of steps, which increased in the solemn silence and stopped, like the first, behind the door. Words were spoken. Those outside seemed to be concerting measures.
Véronique managed to reach her pocket. She took out her revolver and put her finger on the trigger. If any one entered, she would stand up and fire shot after shot, without hesitating. Would not the least hesitation have meant François' death?
CHAPTER IX
THE DEATH-CHAMBER
Véronique's estimate was correct, provided that the door opened outwards and that her enemies were at once revealed to view. She therefore examined the door and suddenly observed that, against all logical expectation, it had a large strong bolt at the bottom. Should she make use of it?
She had no time to weigh the advantages or drawbacks of this plan. She had heard a jingle of keys and, almost at the same time, the sound of a key grating in the lock.
Véronique received a very clear vision of what was likely to happen. When the assailants burst in, she would be thrust aside, she would be hampered in her movements, her aim would be inaccurate and her shots would miss, whereupon they would shut the door again and promptly hurry off to François' cell. The thought of it made her lose her head; and her action was instinctive and immediate. First, she pushed the bolt at the foot of the door. Next, half rising, she slammed the iron shutter over the wicket. A latch clicked. It was no longer possible either to enter or to look in.