At this moment another cry was heard, less loud than the first, but followed by a long deep groan. Grimaud and the innkeeper looked at each other.
"It is like the cry of a man who is being murdered," said the latter.
"We must see what it is," said Grimaud.
Although slow to speak, Grimaud was prompt in action. He rushed to the door, and shook it violently; it was secured on the inner side.
"Open the door instantly," cried he, "or I break it down."
No answer was returned. Grimaud looked around him, and perceived a heavy crowbar standing in a corner of the passage. This he seized hold of, and before the host could interfere, the door was burst open. The room was inundated with blood, which was trickling from the mattrass; there was a hoarse rattling in the wounded man's throat; the monk had disappeared. Grimaud hurried to an open window which looked upon the court-yard.
"He has escaped through this," said he.
"Do you think so?" said the host. "Boy, see if the monk's mule is still in the stable."
"It is gone," was the answer.
Grimaud approached the bed, and gazed upon the harsh and strongly marked features of the wounded man.