The old man's words ended in a sudden cry, and almost simultaneously there was a heavy thud.
Struck from behind, Charlot fell like a log to the floor, while Lady Beltham recoiled in terror, clenching her fists to prevent herself from screaming.
Seizing the opportunity presented by Valgrand's faithful servant standing so still, hypnotised by the gruesome spectacle being prepared outside, Gurn had drawn a knife from his pocket, and, springing on the unfortunate old man, had driven the blade up to the hilt behind his neck.
Charlot fell prone and rigid, the weapon remaining in the wound and stopping the flow of blood.
Lady Beltham was staring at the victim in horror, but Gurn seized her roughly by the arm.
Without troubling to alter the appearance of his face, but horrified as she was by the tragedies which had succeeded one another in such appalling and rapid succession during this awful night, Gurn drew the half-fainting woman to him, and hurried her away.
"Come quick!" he muttered hoarsely. "Let us get out of this!"