"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 hell 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 shivering 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.