"But surely," I insisted, "he fired at you?"
"No, no," she said, "it was I who fired."
"Do you mean that? You fired?"
"Yes, with his revolver."
"But you missed him. He has made his escape."
"I did not miss him. I saw him fall . . . quite close to this . . . on the edge of the ravine."
This ravine was a deep cut in the ground, on our right. The count went to the spot and called to me. When I was standing beside him, he showed me the body of a man lying head downwards, his face covered with blood. I approached and recognized Velmot. He was dead.
CHAPTER XIX
THE FORMULA
Velmot dead, Bérangère alive: the joy of it! The sudden sense of security! This time, the evil adventure was over, since the girl whom I loved had nothing more to fear. And my thoughts at once harked back to Noël Dorgeroux: the formula in which the great secret was summed up was saved. With the clues and the means of action which existed elsewhere, mankind was now in a position to continue my uncle's work.