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|Part I||Baroness Emmuska Orczy|
XIII Then Everything Was Dark
|Page 3 of 4||
He held the candle up so that its feeble flickering rays fell on Armand's pale face, and on the damp cloak which fell away from his shoulders.
"What are you doing there?" reiterated the concierge with another oath from his prolific vocabulary.
"As you see, citizen," replied Armand politely, "I am ringing Mademoiselle Lange's front door bell."
"At this hour of the morning?" queried the man with a sneer.
"I desire to see her."
"Then you have come to the wrong house, citizen," said the concierge with a rude laugh.
"The wrong house? What do you mean?" stammered Armand, a little bewildered.
"She is not here--quoi!" retorted the concierge, who now turned deliberately on his heel. "Go and look for her, citizen; it'll take you some time to find her."
He shuffled off in the direction of the stairs. Armand was vainly trying to shake himself free from a sudden, an awful sense of horror.
He gave another vigorous pull at the hell, then with one bound he overtook the concierge, who was preparing to descend the stairs, and gripped him peremptorily by the arm.
"Where is Mademoiselle Lange?" he asked.
His voice sounded quite strange in his own ear; his throat felt parched, and he had to moisten his lips with his tongue before he was able to speak.
"Arrested," replied the man.
"Arrested? When? Where? How?"
"When--late yesterday evening. Where?--here in her room. How?--by the agents of the Committee of General Security. She and the old woman! Basta! that's all I know. Now I am going back to bed, and you clear out of the house. You are making a disturbance, and I shall be reprimanded. I ask you, is this a decent time for rousing honest patriots out of their morning sleep?"
He shook his arm free from Armand's grasp and once more began to descend.
Armand stood on the landing like a man who has been stunned by a blow on the head. His limbs were paralysed. He could not for the moment have moved or spoken if his life had depended on a sign or on a word. His brain was reeling, and he had to steady himself with his hand against the wall or he would have fallen headlong on the floor. He had lived in a whirl of excitement for the past twenty-four hours; his nerves during that time had been kept at straining point. Passion, joy, happiness, deadly danger, and moral fights had worn his mental endurance threadbare; want of proper food and a sleepless night had almost thrown his physical balance out of gear. This blow came at a moment when he was least able to bear it.
Jeanne had been arrested! Jeanne was in the hands of those brutes, whom he, Armand, had regarded yesterday with insurmountable loathing! Jeanne was in prison--she was arrested--she would be tried, condemned, and all because of him!
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