"His name--but--hark!--what's that?" he ejaculated, with bated breath. We listened. It was the sound of hurrying footsteps in the corridor. "I must see Mrs Burgoyne at once. Do you hear? Quick! Tell me; which is her room?" a voice shouted excitedly. "It's here! first on the left, sir," was the reply. A second later the door was flung open without warning. CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE. THE VANTAGE-GROUND OF TRUTH. Demetrius burst abruptly into the room. His wild appearance startled us. His face was pale and haggard; his eyes bloodshot, his collar torn, and his coat rent at the shoulder. He stopped suddenly, stepping back a few paces when he saw Vera was not alone. "Why, good Heavens! What's the matter?" I exclaimed, in utter astonishment; for he and I had been the closest friends. "Matter! _Diable_! You should know!" he cried, his foreign accent being more pronounced in his excitement. "No. What is it?" asked Vera, who had risen and was standing close to him. "Are you mad?" "Yes, imbecile--if you like," he shouted hoarsely. Pointing to Boris, he added, his face distorted by a look of intense hatred, "That traitor is the cause! He has set the police upon me. They have followed me and are hunting me down. But they shall not arrest me--_Sacre_--at least not yet!" "Come; enough of this!" commanded Boris, sternly, advancing and clutching him by the shoulder. "Hands off, you devil!" he cried fiercely, shaking himself free. "Listen, first, to what I have to say!" "Now, it's useless to struggle," Boris declared firmly. "I shall detain you here and send for the police." "No you won't. Curse you! They are following me now. They saw me enter the hotel. Hark! they're on the stairs. But I have something-- something to say." There was a sly, crafty look in his distended eyes. "Well; what is it?" I asked, at the same time glancing at Vera, and noting that her delicate face was firm-set and pale. "You--you robbed me of her, and, by Heaven, some satisfaction is due to me. I demand it--do you understand?" he screamed with an imprecation, addressing me. "It is I who protected my sister, and assisted her to evade the clutches of a heartless villain--the man who murdered my wife!" interposed Boris, infuriated, emphasising his words with a foreign oath. "Is it this man?" I demanded, bewildered. "Yes," he answered, angrily. "This is the scoundrel who murdered two defenceless women." Turning towards him, he added quickly, "Ah! Demetrius Orselska, the revenge I have so long sought is now near at hand." "It is--it is," hissed the other. "But, _ma foi_! if you think I will be trapped, you are mistaken!" he laughed harshly. "No--you, Frank Burgoyne--you English cur!--you took Vera from me. Though she is your wife, you shall no longer enjoy her beauty. _Dieu_! you shan't?" I saw him plunge his hand nervously into his pocket, but had not the slightest idea of his intention.