High Noon Part 23

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.

Madame Estelle stood before him wringing her hands.

"Be quick!" she said again. "Be quick! be quick! or you will be too late. That fiend Boris is at his work."

By the light of the candles which flickered on the mantelpiece Paul made his way to the door.

Seizing the handle, he turned it, but the lock held fast. He examined it swiftly, and to his joy saw that it opened outwards. He drew back a yard, and then sent the whole of his weight cras.h.i.+ng against the panels. And with good fortune the door of the room, although stoutly built, was partially rotten. It burst wide open and sent him sprawling onto his face in the pa.s.sage.

As he lay there half-stunned his pulses throbbed again as the noise which came from the main entrance told him that Alexis and Andrieff were making good use of the gate.

He dragged himself up to his knees, still clutching his revolver, and at the same moment the outer door gave up its resistance, and Alexis and Andrieff came headlong into the hall-way.

He heard them give a warning shout as he struggled to his feet, steadying himself by the pillars of the banisters.

Looking up the stairs, he saw the brutal face of the villain Michael on the landing, his strong, yellow teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

Paul heard the sound of a shot, and at the same time felt the hands of Madame Estelle give him a push.

Her intention was unselfish, almost heroic; she saved Paul's life, but lost her own.

With a little gasping sigh she pitched forward and lay still, huddled on the stairs. Then Paul heard a second shot rap out from behind his back, and saw Michael stagger on the landing. The man reeled for a couple of paces and then fell heavily.

Verdayne had by this time fully got back his senses and his breath; and now he heard coming from somewhere high above him scream after scream of dreadful terror.

He plunged up the staircase, and stepping across the body of Michael as it lay on the landing, raced up the second flight of stairs. For a moment he paused in the hall, in order to make doubly sure whence the terrified scream came.

Then he heard it again, louder and shriller than before. There was a dreadful note of fear in it. It was the scream of a woman.

As he stood there trying to locate the direction of the cry, a servant bearing a lantern in his hand ran toward him. The man was unarmed, apparently.

"What is that?" Paul demanded of him. But the man merely shrugged his shoulders.

Then there came the scream again, louder and more terror-stricken than before. Paul did not hesitate.

Before the servant had time to utter any protest he had s.n.a.t.c.hed the lantern from his hand and was racing up the third flight to the topmost landing.

Again came the scream, and Paul suddenly found his way barred by a door across the corridor.

Now there was no longer any doubt as to where the cries came from.

Paul dashed at the door, only to find it locked. In a second he had his shoulder against the panel, and the door went in with a crash, disclosing a small anteroom, formed by the end of the hall-way. And then Paul saw before him another door, before which stood the fat Frenchman, Virot, with a s.h.i.+ning knife in his hand. Paul covered him with his revolver.

"Drop that knife," he ordered.

"Not me!" said the portly rogue.

"Drop it!" said Paul again, with an unmistakable threat in his voice.

And this time the man dropped it.

"Now," Paul cried, "away with you, before I send you to h.e.l.l before your time."

Virot smiled in appreciation of the compliment, and at once started down the hall as fast as his short legs could carry him. The rascal was always careful of his precious skin.

Paul turned the handle of the door, only to find, as he had expected, that the key on the inner side had been turned and he groaned within himself. He was living in some awful nightmare at which a door faced him at every turn.

He emptied his revolver in the lock and hurled himself in frenzy against this further obstruction. It gave way, and he tottered into the room, the lights of which for a moment dazzled him.

His half-blinded eyes were greeted by the sight which he had dreaded ever since he had come to the farm on the hill.

Natalie was fighting desperately, and for life, with Boris.

With a great cry Paul leapt forward, but he was too late to exercise that vengeance which had now full possession of his soul.

Boris flung Natalie to one side, and for a second turned his pallid face, in which his eyes were burning like a madman's, full on Paul as he dashed on him.

Then without a sound he leapt aside, and vaulting on to the sill of the open window, jumped out.

Instinctively Paul knew what was coming, and catching Natalie to him, held her head against his breast, stopping her ears with his hands.

Then as he stood there with his eyes bent on her hair, he heard the sickening sound of Boris's body thud on to the stones below.

Releasing Natalie's ears, he put his hand under her chin and lifted up her face. He marvelled that she had not fainted, but the dreadful horror in her eyes struck into his heart like a blow.

He had to hold her to prevent her falling to the floor, and so he stood for some few seconds with her form limp and s.h.i.+vering in his arms.

Bracing himself for one last effort, Paul lifted her up and bore her out of the room. Half-dazed, he stumbled down the stairs with her until he reached the hall.

In the doorway he saw Peter, who came running forward with outstretched arms.

"Just a minute," said Paul quickly, and he walked into the room, the door of which he had shattered.

In the meantime Andrieff and the lad had picked up Madame Estelle and carried her into the same room, and now she lay on the couch, her face growing grey with the shadows of death, and her breath coming fast and feebly. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling with an intense and horrible fixity.

Paul pushed an armchair round with his foot and set his lady down on it so that her back was turned to the dying woman.

Peter fell on his knees beside the chair, and seizing his sister's hands, held them against his breast.

Paul crossed over to Madame Estelle and stood over her. He put his hand against her heart and listened to her breathing.

"I am afraid," he said in a low voice to Andrieff, "that we can do nothing for her. It is a bad business. Heaven forgive her for anything she has done amiss! She did her best to make amends."

Then he drew Alexis out of the room and told him to fetch a lamp.

When he had fetched the lamp Paul took it and began rapidly to examine round the ground floor of the rambling building. He was seeking for the court-yard into which Boris had fallen.

At last they found it, and found, too, all that remained of Boris Ivanovitch. He was battered and crushed and bruised almost beyond recognition.

Paul set his face and straightened the twisted and distorted body out.