Virot smiled in appreciation of the compliment, and at once started down the hall as fast as his short legs could carry him. The rascal was always careful of his precious skin.
Paul turned the handle of the door, only to find, as he had expected, that the key on the inner side had been turned and he groaned within himself. He was living in some awful nightmare at which a door faced him at every turn.
He emptied his revolver in the lock and hurled himself in frenzy against this further obstruction. It gave way, and he tottered into the room, the lights of which for a moment dazzled him.
His half-blinded eyes were greeted by the sight which he had dreaded ever since he had come to the farm on the hill.
Natalie was fighting desperately, and for life, with Boris.
With a great cry Paul leapt forward, but he was too late to exercise that vengeance which had now full possession of his soul.
Boris flung Natalie to one side, and for a second turned his pallid face, in which his eyes were burning like a madman's, full on Paul as he dashed on him.
Then without a sound he leapt aside, and vaulting on to the sill of the open window, jumped out.
Instinctively Paul knew what was coming, and catching Natalie to him, held her head against his breast, stopping her ears with his hands. Then as he stood there with his eyes bent on her hair, he heard the sickening sound of Boris's body thud on to the stones below.
Releasing Natalie's ears, he put his hand under her chin and lifted up her face. He marvelled that she had not fainted, but the dreadful horror in her eyes struck into his heart like a blow.