Demetrius burst abruptly into the room.
His wild appearance startled us. His face was pale and haggard; his
eyes bloodshot, his collar torn, and his coat rent at the shoulder.
He stopped suddenly, stepping back a few paces when he saw Vera was not
alone.
"Why, good Heavens! What's the matter?" I exclaimed, in utter
astonishment; for he and I had been the closest friends.
"Matter! _Diable_! You should know!" he cried, his foreign accent
being more pronounced in his excitement.
"No. What is it?" asked Vera, who had risen and was standing close to
him. "Are you mad?"
"Yes, imbecile--if you like," he shouted hoarsely. Pointing to Boris,
he added, his face distorted by a look of intense hatred, "That traitor
is the cause! He has set the police upon me. They have followed me and
are hunting me down. But they shall not arrest me--_Sacre_--at least
not yet!"
"Come; enough of this!" commanded Boris, sternly, advancing and
clutching him by the shoulder.
"Hands off, you devil!" he cried fiercely, shaking himself free.
"Listen, first, to what I have to say!"
"Now, it's useless to struggle," Boris declared firmly. "I shall detain
you here and send for the police."
"No you won't. Curse you! They are following me now. They saw me
enter the hotel. Hark! they're on the stairs. But I have something--
something to say."
There was a sly, crafty look in his distended eyes.
"Well; what is it?" I asked, at the same time glancing at Vera, and
noting that her delicate face was firm-set and pale.
"You--you robbed me of her, and, by Heaven, some satisfaction is due to
me. I demand it--do you understand?" he screamed with an imprecation,
addressing me.
"It is I who protected my sister, and assisted her to evade the clutches
of a heartless villain--the man who murdered my wife!" interposed Boris,
infuriated, emphasising his words with a foreign oath.
"Is it this man?" I demanded, bewildered.
"Yes," he answered, angrily. "This is the scoundrel who murdered two
defenceless women." Turning towards him, he added quickly, "Ah!
Demetrius Orselska, the revenge I have so long sought is now near at
hand."
"It is--it is," hissed the other. "But, _ma foi_! if you think I will
be trapped, you are mistaken!" he laughed harshly. "No--you, Frank
Burgoyne--you English cur!--you took Vera from me. Though she is your
wife, you shall no longer enjoy her beauty. _Dieu_! you shan't?"
I saw him plunge his hand nervously into his pocket, but had not the
slightest idea of his intention.
As I turned to look at Vera she covered her blanched face with her
hands, screaming,--"Look, Frank--he has a pistol!"
His movements were of lightning-like rapidity. Before I could wrest the
weapon from his murderous grasp he had levelled it at her.
There was a flash--a loud report--and a puff of smoke curled between us.
For a second I feared to glance at her, but when I lifted my eyes, it
was with joy I saw that the bullet had sped harmlessly past, shattering
a great mirror at the opposite end of the room.
Shrieking wildly and hysterically, she staggered fainting to a chair,
while Boris and I struggled with the murderer to obtain possession of
the weapon.
"Stand back!" he shouted, his dark flashing eyes starting from their
sockets, and his even row of white teeth prominently displayed. "Touch
me, and I'll blow your brains out! _Sacre_! I warn you!"
The mad excitement seemed to have filled him with fiendish strength, and
by an agile movement he again freed himself.
With a muttered oath he advanced several steps towards the spot where
Vera was sitting, now rendered utterly unconscious by the sudden shock.
I saw his intention. I detected the terrible expression of revenge that
passed over his features; and sprang towards him.
Another second, and I should have been too late.
The muzzle of the revolver was again pointed at her; his finger was upon
the trigger, nevertheless as he pulled it I knocked his arm upwards.
The weapon discharged, but the bullet imbedded itself in the ceiling.