Tristan's superior strength had nearly mastered his opponent, when, with a desperate effort, Paul grasped the portmanteau, and with one well-planted blow, brought the negro to the ground. He lay where he had fallen, stunned and motionless. Paul returned to the house carrying the precious burden with him. Two hours had nearly expired, and the time approached for his interview with Don Juan. He carried the portmanteau to his apartment, unlocked it, took out the documents and placed them once more in his bosom, determined to carry them on his person at any risk. "They must kill me before they obtain them," he muttered. He looked at his watch. Two hours had fully expired. The interview was to take place at one o'clock. The hands upon the dial pointed to the hour. He left his room in order to proceed to Don Juan's apartment; but upon the landing-place his steps were arrested by a strange and appalling sound. That sound was the report of a pistol which reverberated through the hall below. Paul was not the only person who heard the ominous sound. As he paused for a moment motionless with horror and alarm, the door of the apartment opposite to him was opened and Pauline Corsi stood upon the threshold. She was not alone; close behind her appeared the pale face of Camillia Moraquitos. Both the women were terribly agitated. The Spanish girl endeavored to rush out upon the landing, but Pauline threw her arms about her and arrested her steps. "Keep her back," she cried; "if you love her, keep her back, Paul, while I go and see what that sound means." Paul obeyed; he led Camillia back into her own apartment, and endeavored to calm her agitation. But in vain. She would not listen to his attempts at consolation; but implored him again and again to let her go to her father. "I know that something dreadful has happened," she said; "you are all in league to deceive me. My father is in danger, and you are cruel enough to keep me from rushing to his side." At this moment Pauline Corsi returned. The young man saw by her ghastly face that something terrible had indeed occurred. "Come with me, Paul," she said; "you can see Don Juan now." Camillia caught hold of her hand. "He can see my father. Ah, then he is safe; he is safe, Pauline?" she cried. The Frenchwoman did not answer, but silently led Paul from the room. He followed her down the stairs; but on the threshold of Don Juan's chamber she paused, and took the young man's hand in hers, which was icy cold. "Prepare yourself for a fearful shock, Paul," she said, "for an awful sight. Are you brave enough to encounter them?" "What you, a woman, can endure, I can also bear," he answered calmly. "Crime brings a fearful retribution," murmured the Frenchwoman, in an awe-stricken voice; "and however slow the footsteps of the avenger, he is not the less sure to overtake his victim. Your uncle has paid the penalty of his sins." She opened the door, and the young man followed her into the chamber.