Yes, the door was going to open!...
It was ajar ... it was turning on its hinges—it was open.... Someone was coming in.... Who?...
Fandor lay still—he dared not move an eyelid; but in his mind he said:
"Come in, then! Take the trouble to come in!"
Thus Fandor, who believed Death was entering the room, dared to welcome the grim visitor—with a smile!
Nothing was happening.... Fandor's feverish excitement sank down to depression.... He must have deceived himself—no one was entering the room—nothing untoward was happening! He had simply imagined the noises outside in the corridor, for nothing happened—nothing ... and once more he was following the eternal tic-tac, tic-tac of the timepiece!
The head of Fandor's bed was near the door. He could not, in the dense darkness, fix the point where he supposed the enemy would find him, and he had the agonising conviction that they were very much at their ease—that they knew exactly where he was, and were quietly preparing their attack.
But had these unknown assassins entered the room?... Yes, it was certain—there were men behind him—bending over him with outstretched hands to strangle him!... He could hear the sound their fingers made in passing through the air to grip his throat, to squeeze his life out!...
Though he lived a hundred years, never could Fandor forget the agonising thrill when he sensed that hidden danger! He held his revolver ready to fire. He thought: