What happened next was in the highest measure unexpected. With not a word of thanks to his wife, with not a word of anger either, this man who had just undergone the most cruel torture and whose body still throbbed with pain hurriedly tottered barefoot to a telephone standing on a table. He was like a hungry man who suddenly sees a piece of bread and snatches at it greedily as the means of saving himself and returning to life. Panting for breath, Essarès took down the receiver and called out: "Central 40.39." Then he turned abruptly to his wife: "Go away," he said. She seemed not to hear. She had knelt down beside old Siméon and was setting him free also. Essarès at the telephone began to lose patience: "Are you there? . . . Are you there? . . . I want that number to-day, please, not next week! It's urgent. . . . 40.39. . . . It's urgent, I tell you!" And, turning to Coralie, he repeated, in an imperious tone: "Go away!" She made a sign that she would not go away and that, on the contrary, she meant to listen. He shook his fist at her and again said: "Go away, go away! . . . I won't have you stay in the room. You go away too, Siméon." Old Siméon got up and moved towards Essarès. It looked as though he wished to speak, no doubt to protest. But his action was undecided; and, after a moment's reflection, he turned to the door and went without uttering a word. "Go away, will you, go away!" Essarès repeated, his whole body expressing menace. But Coralie came nearer to him and crossed her arms obstinately and defiantly. At that moment, Essarès appeared to get his call, for he asked: "Is that 40.39? Ah, yes . . ." He hesitated. Coralie's presence obviously displeased him greatly, and he was about to say things which he did not wish her to know. But time, no doubt, was pressing. He suddenly made up his mind and, with both receivers glued to his ears, said, in English: "Is that you, Grégoire? . . . Essarès speaking. . . . Hullo! . . . Yes, I'm speaking from the Rue Raynouard. . . . There's no time to lose. . . . Listen. . . ." He sat down and went on: "Look here. Mustapha's dead. So is the colonel. . . . Damn it, don't interrupt, or we're done for! . . . Yes, done for; and you too. . . . Listen, they all came, the colonel, Bournef, the whole gang, and robbed me by means of violence and threats. . . . I finished the colonel, only he had written to the police, giving us all away. The letter will be delivered soon. So you understand, Bournef and his three ruffians are going to disappear. They'll just run home and pack up their papers; and I reckon they'll be with you in an hour, or two hours at most. It's the refuge they're sure to make for. They prepared it themselves, without suspecting that you and I know each other. So there's no doubt about it. They're sure to come. . . ." Essarès stopped. He thought for a moment and resumed: