She whirled towards him. She had recovered her cool manner.
'I thought, Etienne,' she said, 'that sooner or later it would be something like this.'
' ... if you tell me who killed Claudine Martel.5
'A nice recital, Etienne.’ The husky voice became tantalizing. 'Do you really think I would tell you? And, Etienne, my dear, why do you want to know? If you are going to become a respectable country gentleman —‘
'Because I think I know.'
'Well?5
'Remember that delicious word prudence. I was always cautious, my dear. Sometime in the future I may need money. And the parents of the person who I think committed the murder, they are not only proud, but immensely rich. Now tell me.. ..'
She was taking a cigarette from her handbag, coolly, and I could imagine her raised eyebrows. His big hand shot out. 'Confirm my belief, dear Gina, that the murderer is Captain Robert Chaumont.'
My knees grew weak, and I saw Galant's face as in a distorted mirror. Chaumont! Chaumont! The name could not conceivably have surprised her as much as it surprised me. But I heard her give a little gasp. During the long silence, the orchestra downstairs began to play again. I heard it muffled by the windows, faintly.
'Etienne,’ she said, laughing in a choked way, 'now I am convinced you are mad. What on earth - why — ?’
'Surely you must be aware, Gina,' he pointed out, 'knowing what you do, that this is a crime of vengeance? Vengeance for Odette Duchene. Vengeance on the young lady who caused her to fall to her death. Who would be the most likely person to inflict that vengeance? Come, now! Am I right?'
Already it had grown very hot in here. I strained against the crack in the screen, my brain lit by flashes and glimpses out of the past, where Chaumont's queer behaviour stood out. I was afraid Gina Prevost would whisper something, and I should not catch it; for the orchestra had swelled into another tango which pounded dimly against the windows. Galant stood before her, looking down.. ..
Then, almost at my feet, I became aware of a snarl. Something with fur shot brushing past my legs and whirled. Its cry rose again, inhumanly, and I saw yellow eyes.
The cat....
All motion was frozen in my body. I could not take my eye from that crack; I had first become stiff, and then limp as jelly. Galant straightened up. He stared straight across at the screen. Mariette, the cat, ran back and forth, still snarling.
'There's - somebody - behind - that screen,' Galant said. His voice was unnaturally loud.
Another pause. The room seemed to have acquired sinister creakings. Gina Prevost did not move, but her hand was lifted towards her mouth with the cigarette, and it trembled. 'There's - somebody - behind - that screen'; it still echoed, dull and hollow. On Galant's face the lamplight lay in a spangled pattern; his eyes grew large in a dead cold stare, and the lips were drawn back slowly from his teeth.
His hand suddenly flew to the inside of his coat.
'It's a damned police spy!'
'Don't move’ I said. I did not recognize my own voice. I had spoken instinctively, and the words snapped. 'Don't move, or I'll drop you. You're in the light.'
Ghastly seconds hammered in my ears. Bluff him! Bluff him, or I was through. He stared at the shadows around me, which might have concealed a pistol. His big body strained as against bonds. Now his eyes were growing crimson round the irises, with a rush of blood which filled the big veins in his forehead. Slowly his upper lip raised, to show two big front teeth. Indecision held him strangled and furious. .. .
'Up above your head!' I shouted. "High above it! Don't call out. Hurry!'
His lips writhed to spit out a word of defiance, but prudence intervened. For a second one hand trembled under the table. Then both of them were slowly raised.
'Turn around!'
He said, 'You can't get out of here, you know.'
I had come to that stage where the whole affair seemed pure, crazy exhilaration. My career might have only a few more instants to go; but in the meantime I felt like laughing, and pulses danced up and down my chest. So I stepped out from behind the screen. The grey room with its gilt panels and blue-upholstered furniture emerged in sharp colours; even the shadows had a hard outline, and I remember noting that the panels were painted to depict the loves of Aphrodite. Galant stood with his back to me and his hands raised. On the lounge Gina Prevost sat bending forward; she darted a glance at me, and in the same moment I remembered that my mask was still up on my forehead. I saw that her eyes held encouragement and triumph. She made a gesture in the air. She laughed, and the long ashes of her cigarette spilled, for she saw that I had no weapon....
I joined in her laughter. The only thing to do was to take Galant from behind and risk a rough-and-tumble before he could call out or get his hand on a weapon. I caught up a heavy chair. Galant spoke suddenly in English:
'Don't worry, Gina. They'll be here in a second. I pressed a button under that table. ... Good boys!'
The door into the hall was flung open. I stopped, with a shock at my heart. A yellow glare of light in the hallway showed white-masks, with Galant's upraised arms silhouetted against them. I saw heads above neckcloths - heads which seemed to rise from their necks, like snakes, and glassy eyes in the lamplight. There were five of those heads.
'All right, boys.' Galant said, in a low, delighted voice. 'Watch him; he's got a gun. Quietly, now! No noise. ... '
He had sprung round to face me, and his nose was like a horrible red caterpillar wriggling up his face. His shoulders were humped, his arms swung loosely, and he grinned. The blood-drum beat in my ears. The heads began to move forward, blotting the light and throwing long-necked shadows across its path. Their feet made a swishing noise on the rug. Gina Prevost was still laughing, her fists clenched. With the heavy chair in my hands, I backed towards the window. ...
Still that swishing, as though the white-masks moved on their bellies. Galant's grin grew wider. The figures loomed up still larger. Through Gina Prevost's giggling shrill laughter rose her words: 'He'll beat you yet, Etienne! He'll beat - -'
'He's got no gun. Get him!'
Against the yellow light, beady-eyed figures leapt in a surge. I swung the heavy chair and drove it against the window. The crash of glass; woodwork cracked and the lock was ripped out. Dragging back the chair, I whirled and flung it at the headmost figure. There was a gleam on the light, and a thud as a knife banged into the casement above my head. I saw it quiver there as I gripped the sill, shielded my face with my arm against broken glass, and toppled out into emptiness.
Gold air, a rushing grey blur. Then, blotting them out, bone-cracking hammers driven against my ankles. I staggered against brickwork and fell on my knees, overcome with a ghastly nausea. Get up ! Get up ! But for the moment only pain, legs that would not hold, and blindness. ...
I was trapped. They could cover the house; I couldn't get out. Sooner or later, like the inexorable closing in of that circle of masks, they would have me in a corner. All right, damn them! Give them a race! Little fun. Groggy; must have hit my head.
I started to run, limping, along the court. The main hall! There were doors here somewhere to the main hall. If I ran in there, amongst guests, they couldn't get me just yet. Run! Where's the door? Something in my eyes; must be blood. .. . White-mask ahead!
He vvas coming to me, bent low. His shoes made a spatter on the bricks as he ran. Pain was flooded out in cold fury. I drew my breath through lungs that felt stabbed; but I was no longer conscious of anything except that I hated all white-masks, I hated all apache sneers and knives that dug into your back. In the dimness I saw that he wore a checkered suit. His pale bony jaw was drawn up, and his hand flickered to his neckcloth as he leaped....