And the voice spake anew, by turns shrill, stifled, bleating, stammering, yelling, fearsome. It uttered indistinct words, broken syllables.
Lupin felt the top of his head covering with perspiration. What was this incoherent voice, mysterious as a voice from beyond the grave?
He had knelt down by the man-servant’s side. The voice was silent and then began again:
“Give us a better light,” he said to Gilbert.
He was trembling a little, shaken with a nervous dread which he was unable to master, for there was no doubt possible: when Gilbert had removed the shade from the lamp, Lupin realized that the voice issued from the corpse itself, without a movement of the lifeless mass, without a quiver of the bleeding mouth.
“Governor, I’ve got the shivers,” stammered Gilbert.
Again the same voice, the same snuffling whisper.
Suddenly, Lupin burst out laughing, seized the corpse and pulled it aside:
“Exactly!” he said, catching sight of an object made of polished metal. “Exactly! That’s it!… Well, upon my word, it took me long enough!”
On the spot on the floor which he had uncovered lay the receiver of a telephone, the cord of which ran up to the apparatus fixed on the wall, at the usual height.
Lupin put the receiver to his ear. The noise began again at once, but it was a mixed noise, made up of different calls, exclamations, confused cries, the noise produced by a number of persons questioning one another at the same time.
“Are you there?… He won’t answer. It’s awful… They must have killed him. What is it?… Keep up your courage. There’s help on the way… police… soldiers…”
“Dash it!” said Lupin, dropping the receiver.
The truth appeared to him in a terrifying vision. Quite at the beginning, while the things upstairs were being moved, Leonard, whose bonds were not securely fastened, had contrived to scramble to his feet, to unhook the receiver, probably with his teeth, to drop it and to appeal for assistance to the Enghien telephone-exchange.
And those were the words which Lupin had overheard, after the first boat started:
“Help!… Murder!… I shall be killed!”
And this was the reply of the exchange. The police were hurrying to the spot. And Lupin remembered the sounds which he had heard from the garden, four or five minutes earlier, at most:
“The police! Take to your heels!” he shouted, darting across the dining room.
“What about Vaucheray?” asked Gilbert.
“Sorry, can’t be helped!”
But Vaucheray, waking from his torpor, entreated him as he passed:
“Governor, you wouldn’t leave me like this!”
Lupin stopped, in spite of the danger, and was lifting the wounded man, with Gilbert’s assistance, when a loud din arose outside:
“Too late!” he said.
At that moment, blows shook the hall-door at the back of the house. He ran to the front steps: a number of men had already turned the corner of the house at a rush. He might have managed to keep ahead of them, with Gilbert, and reach the waterside. But what chance was there of embarking and escaping under the enemy’s fire?
He locked and bolted the door.
“We are surrounded… and done for,” spluttered Gilbert.
“Hold your tongue,” said Lupin.
“But they’ve seen us, governor. There, they’re knocking.”
“Hold your tongue,” Lupin repeated. “Not a word. Not a movement.”
He himself remained unperturbed, with an utterly calm face and the pensive attitude of one who has all the time that he needs to examine a delicate situation from every point of view. He had reached one of those minutes which he called the “superior moments of existence,” those which alone give a value and a price to life. On such occasions, however threatening the danger, he always began by counting to himself, slowly—“One… Two… Three… Four.... Five… Six”—until the beating of his heart became normal and regular. Then and not till then, he reflected, but with what intensity, with what perspicacity, with what a profound intuition of possibilities! All the factors of the problem were present in his mind. He foresaw everything. He admitted everything. And he took his resolution in all logic and in all certainty.
After thirty or forty seconds, while the men outside were banging at the doors and picking the locks, he said to his companion:
“Follow me.”
Returning to the dining-room, he softly opened the sash and drew the Venetian blinds of a window in the side-wall. People were coming and going, rendering flight out of the question.
Thereupon he began to shout with all his might, in a breathless voice:
“This way!… Help!… I’ve got them!… This way!”
He pointed his revolver and fired two shots into the tree-tops. Then he went back to Vaucheray, bent over him and smeared his face and hands with the wounded man’s blood. Lastly, turning upon Gilbert, he took him violently by the shoulders and threw him to the floor.
“What do you want, governor? There’s a nice thing to do!”
“Let me do as I please,” said Lupin, laying an imperative stress on every syllable. “I’ll answer for everything… I’ll answer for the two of you… Let me do as I like with you… I’ll get you both out of prison … But I can only do that if I’m free.”
Excited cries rose through the open window.
“This way!” he shouted. “I’ve got them! Help!”
And, quietly, in a whisper:
“Just think for a moment… Have you anything to say to me?… Something that can be of use to us?”
Gilbert was too much taken aback to understand Lupin’s plan and he struggled furiously. Vaucheray showed more intelligence; moreover, he had given up all hope of escape, because of his wound; and he snarled:
“Let the governor have his way, you ass!… As long as he gets off, isn’t that the great thing?”
Suddenly, Lupin remembered the article which Gilbert had put in his pocket, after capturing it from Vaucheray. He now tried to take it in his turn.
“No, not that! Not if I know it!” growled Gilbert, managing to release himself.
Lupin floored him once more. But two men suddenly appeared at the window; and Gilbert yielded and, handing the thing to Lupin, who pocketed it without looking at it, whispered:
“Here you are, governor… I’ll explain. You can be sure that…”
He did not have time to finish… Two policemen and others after them and soldiers who entered through every door and window came to Lupin’s assistance.
Gilbert was at once seized and firmly bound. Lupin withdrew:
“I’m glad you’ve come,” he said. “The beggar’s given me a lot of trouble. I wounded the other; but this one…”
The commissary of police asked him, hurriedly:
“Have you seen the man-servant? Have they killed him?”
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“You don’t know?…”
“Why, I came with you from Enghien, on hearing of the murder! Only, while you were going round the left of the house, I went round the