had already lost time which could ill be spared and having had one experience of Dauban's cleverness in slipping out of his bonds, he was loth to trust again to mere cords.
A hurried search of the room offered no solution, and for the moment there seemed nothing for it save the desperate step of plunging the knife into his heart. He had earned death by his last murderous attack, and Pascal picked up the weapon; but he shrank from the deed, and with the object of obtaining the assistance of some of the household, he opened the door.
In the corridor he found Lucette strolling near the room with an assumed air of indifference. On seeing him she made as if to hurry away, and he called her.
"Mademoiselle, you must help me," he said, somewhat brusquely and with a touch of command in his tone.
"Where is the monk, monsieur?" she asked, shrinking from him, "and Jacques Dauban? What is the meaning of that knife?" and she pointed at the knife which unwittingly he retained in his hand.
"I am the monk, mademoiselle. For God's sake don't run off in that way." He turned and tossed the knife back into the room. "Did you think I had murdered myself and with an unstained knife?" he asked, and smiled. "I am here on M. de Cobalt's business and miladi of Malincourt's, and I must have help."
Reassured by his tone she returned then.
"What has happened?" she asked.
"That which may help to straighten all this devil of a tangle. I have tricked that spy of de Proballe's and pinched half the life out of him, and must have help to get him safely caged. He proved too slippery for me once before."
"I don't understand."
"I'll show you;" and he opened the door so that she saw Dauban.
"Is he dead?" she asked, shrinking again.
