ker of its flame cast weird reflections and dancing shadows an the
walls of the alcove. There came a lull in the wind, the rain ceased, and
during this instant of calm someone knocked, at first gently, and then
sharply, at the outer door. Derues dropped the dying woman's hand and
bent forward to listen. The knock was repeated, and he grew pale. He
threw the sheet, as if it were a shroud, over his victim's head drew
the curtains of the alcove, and went to the door. "Who is there?" he
inquired.

"Open, Monsieur Derues," said a voice which he recognised as that of a
woman of Chartres whose affairs he managed, and who had entrusted him
with sundry deeds in order that he might receive the money due to her.
This woman had begun to entertain doubts as to Derues' honesty, and as
she was leaving Paris the next day, had resolved to get the papers out
of his hands.

"Open the door," she repeated. "Don't you know my voice?"

"I am sorry I cannot let you in. My servant is out: she has taken the
key and locked the door outside."

"You must let me in," the woman continued; "it is absolutely necessary I
should speak to you."

"Come to-morrow."

"I leave Paris to-morrow, and I must have those papers to-night."

He again refused, but she spoke firmly and decidedly. "I must come in.
The porter said you were all out, but, from the rue des Menetriers I
could see the light in your room. My brother is with me, and I left him
below. I shall call him if you don't open the door."

"Come in, then," said Derues; "your papers are in the sitting-room. Wait
here, and I will fetch them." The woman looked at him and took his hand.
"Heavens! how pale you are! What is the matter?"

"Nothing is the matter: will you wait here?" But she would not release
his arm, and followed him into the sitting-room, where Derues began to
seek hurriedly among the various papers which covered a table. "Here
they are," he said; "now you can go."

"Really," said the woman, examining her deeds carefully, "never yet did
I see you in such a hurry to give up things which don't belong to you.
But do hold that candle steadily; your hand is shaking so that I cannot
see to read."

At that moment the silence which prevailed all round was broken by a cry
of anguish, a long groan proceeding from the chamber to the right of the
sitting-room.

"What is that?" cried the woman. "Surely it is a dying person!"

The sense of the danger which threatened made Derues pull himself