At that supreme moment the pale faces of General de Trémont and poor Laforêt, of Agostini, dead, and Hans, lying on the blood-stained stone, rose before Marcel’s imagination, and an insurmountable horror came over him. He bent his head without a word. A slight noise of something touching glass caused him to look up. He saw Sophia drinking the poison. Rushing up, he dashed from her hands the empty glass. Smiling, she said— “Too late!” “Open! Open!” exclaimed several voices behind the door. Sophia found sufficient strength to say— “Open now, Milona!” The Dalmatian obeyed. A veil came over Sophia’s eyes, her cheeks turned deadly pale. Milona, terrified, fell to the ground, her dark, dishevelled hair falling round her face like a funeral veil. “Where is the woman?” shouted M. Mayeur from the staircase, as he came on the scene, panting and triumphant. “She has not been allowed to escape, I hope!” He appeared, accompanied by Graff, and stood, as though petrified, on the threshold. Marcel, pointing to Sophia, who had just breathed her last, said— “Here she is!” The Ténébreuse, ever elusive, had this time taken refuge in the darkness of eternal night. CHAPTER VI THE affray of the Boulevard Maillot was prudently passed over as a drama founded on jealousy. Two men quarrelling over a woman, and the rivals killing one another over the corpse of the fair one—such was the account furnished to the reporters. Imagination did the rest. Paris dwelt with passionate interest for twelve hours on this magnificent butchery, the horrors of which were described all the better from the fact that no one had been admitted to see them. M. Mayeur alone made a complete search all over the house, but discovered nothing calculated to throw any light on the identity of Hans. Neither the anthropometric service nor the most experienced detectives could find out the slightest indication as to the mysterious personality of the dreaded bandit. Certainly he was the same man whose arm had been carried off at Vanves, when he had appeared there with Sophia, on the evening the General’s house had been destroyed. But what was he besides? The international police, on being questioned, said nothing. Either they knew nothing, or were unwilling to give information.