“Be quick! Be quick!” she cried. “If you don't wish to be too late, you must swim the pond, the door is barred.”
Westerham cast a quick glance behind him, and his eyes fell on the gate.
“Use that as a battering ram,” he ordered, and then his jaws closed over the butt of his revolver.
Without hesitation he waded in, and a few strong strokes brought him beneath the window out of which Mme. Estelle leant and waved.
He knew instinctively by her accents that she was terrified beyond measure and that he need not expect treachery from her.
With one hand he clutched the sill, with the other he reached up and shifting the safety-cap on with his thumb, let his revolver fall into the room.
Soaked as he was with water, it was not an easy task to hoist himself up and clamber through the window, and when at last he stood within the room he leant against the wall partially exhausted and breathing hard.
Mme. Estelle stood before him wringing her hands.
“Be quick!” she said again. “Be quick! be quick! or you will be too late. That fiend Melun is at his work.”
By the light of the candles which flickered on the mantelpiece Westerham made his way to the door.