"Dieu!" I heard a man's voice exclaim. "Why—master—you've killed her!"
Then as I stood there, breathless, I heard some further conversation in low tones. The ruffians were discussing the tragedy—for a tragedy I felt it to be. A defenceless girl struck down by old Gregory—her lips closed for ever because she had sought to protect me!
These men feared me! This thought, despite the horror and anger with which I was seething, flashed through my mind like fire. They believed that I knew more than I really did.
But it was a moment for action. Old Gregory had deliberately struck down that unfortunate girl who had been trained until she had become an expert thief, made a cat's paw and tool for that dangerous gang of criminals.
Creeping along the wall of the house, I managed to find and noiselessly place against the window a rustic garden-chair, and discovering also a heavy piece of wood. I prepared to make a dramatic entry into the room where this tragedy had happened, and the conspiracy against my life was being hatched.
Again I listened. The voices were now so low that I could not catch the words uttered.
Then standing on a level with the window-sill, I raised my arm and with the block of wood smashed one of the huge, long panes to fragments.
The crash was startling, no doubt, but ere they could recover from it I had dashed the holland blind aside and stepped boldly into the room, my big Browning revolver in my hand, and my back instantly against the wall.
The scene there was truly a strange one.
It was a dingy, old-fashioned drawing-room furnished in early Victorian style, with ponderous walnut furniture, a brown threadbare carpet, ugly arm-chairs, a what-not, and wax flowers under a glass dome, in the fashion beloved by our grandmothers. By the fireplace was a cosy corner, the upholstery of which was tattered and moth-eaten, while the stuffing of some of the chairs appeared through the corners of the cushions. Near where I stood was an old chintz-covered couch, and beyond, an arm-chair, of the same inartistic description.