Then Harry's voice:
"That's all right, old fellow. I know—I have known she loves you. This is no time to talk of that. Listen, Paul—what you were going to do for Desiree—if you can—they will be back at any moment—"
That thought kindled my brain; I raised myself onto my elbow.
"I haven't the strength," I said, hardly knowing how I spoke. "You must do it, Harry; you must. And quick, lad! The dagger! Desiree—the dagger!"
What followed came to me as in a dream; my eyes were dim with the exhaustion that had overcome my body. Desiree's face disappeared from before my face—then a silence—then the sound of her voice as though from a distance:
"Harry—come! I can't find it! I dropped it when I ran across—it must be here—on the floor—"
And then another sound came that I knew only too well—the sound of rushing, pattering feet.
I think I tried to rise to my own feet. I heard Harry's voice crying in a frenzy: "Quick—here they come! Desiree, where is it?"
There was a ringing cry of despair from Desiree, a swinging oath from Harry, and the next instant I found myself pinned to the floor by the weight of a score of bodies.