"And you really believe," Sir Percy Blakeney said slowly and deliberately, "that you have the power to carry through your infamous schemes? That I--yes, I!--would allow you! to come within measurable distance of their execution? Bah! my dear friend. You have learned nothing by past experience--not even this: that when you dared to lay your filthy hands upon Lady Blakeney, you and the whole pack of assassins who have terrorized this beautiful country far too long, struck the knell of your ultimate doom. You have dared to measure your strength against mine by perpetrating an outrage so monstrous in my sight that, to punish you, I--even I!--will sweep you off the face of the earth and send you to join the pack of unclean ghouls who have aided you in your crimes. After which--thank the lord!--the earth, being purged of your presence, will begin to smell sweetly again." Chauvelin made a vain effort to laugh, to shrug his shoulders, to put on those airs of insolence which came so naturally to his opponent. No doubt the strain of this long interview with his enemy had told upon his nerves. Certain it is that at this moment, though he was conscious enough to rail inwardly at his own cowardice, he was utterly unable to move or to retort. His limbs felt heavy as lead, an icy shudder was coursing down his spine. It seemed in truth as if some uncanny ghoul had entered the dreary, dank apartment and with gaunt, invisible hand was tolling a silent passing bell--the death-knell of all his ambitions and of all his hopes. He closed his eyes, for he felt giddy and sick. When he opened his eyes again he was alone. CHAPTER XXVI A DREAM §1 Chauvelin had not yet regained full possession of his faculties, when a few seconds later he saw Theresia Cabarrus glide swiftly across the antechamber. She appeared to him like a ghost--a pixie who had found her way through a keyhole. But she threw him a glance of contempt that was very human, very feminine indeed, and the next moment she was gone. Outside on the landing she paused. Straining her ears, she caught the sound of a firm footfall slowly descending the stairs. She ran down a few steps, then called softly: "Milor!" The footsteps paused, and a pleasant voice gave quiet reply: "At your service, fair lady!" Theresia, shrewd as well as brave, continued to descend. She was not in the least afraid. Instinct had told her before now that no woman need ever have the slightest fear of that elegant milor with the quaint laugh and gently mocking mien, whom she had learned to know over in England. Midway down the stairs she came face to face with him, and when she paused, panting, a little breathless with excitement, he said with perfect courtesy: "You did me the honour to call me, Madame?" "Yes, milor," she replied in a quick, eager whisper. "I heard every word that passed between you and citizen Chauvelin."