“Yes, yes, yes!” continued the old man.
Maximilian rushed up the little staircase, while Noirtier’s eyes seemed to say—“Quicker, quicker!”
In a minute the young man darted through several rooms, till at length he reached Valentine’s.
There was no occasion to push the door, it was wide open.
A sob was the only sound he heard. He saw as though in a mist, a black figure kneeling and buried in a confused mass of white drapery.
A terrible fear transfixed him. It was then he heard a voice exclaim “Valentine is dead!” and another voice which, like an echo repeated:
“Dead—dead!”