The shot had been fired from behind.
“Ah!” cried the wounded man in wild despair. “I—why, I——”
Then he reeled completely round and fell backward upon the carpet—inert—dead!
At the same instant Jean, staggered by the suddenness of it all, was confronted by a ragged, unkempt, hatless man in a striped jacket some sizes too big for him. Around his neck was a dirty scarf in lieu of a collar, and his dark hair was curly and ruffled.
She saw the man emerge from the curtain, and started back in increased alarm.
“Madame!” cried the newcomer, “it is me! Don’t you know me?”
She stood rooted to the spot.
“Adolphe!” she gasped, staring at him.
“Yes, madame. I came here, not knowing that this was your château,” he explained, in a low whisper. “I found the window open just before that man arrived. I came in and took your pearls. Here they are!”
And he drew them from the pocket of his shabby jacket and handed them back to her.