“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!”