"Beware . . . beware . . . the God-Stone . . . ."
Suddenly he half raised himself. His eyes flashed as though lit by the last flicker of an expiring flame. Véronique received the impression that her father, as he looked at her, now understood nothing but the full significance of her presence and foresaw all the dangers that threatened her; and, speaking in a hoarse and terrified but quite distinct voice, he said:
"You mustn't stay . . . . It means death if you stay . . . . Escape this island . . . . Go . . . Go . . . ."
His head fell back. He stammered a few more words which Véronique was just able to grasp:
"Oh, the cross! . . . The four crosses of Sarek! . . . My daughter . . . my daughter . . . crucified! . . ."
There was a great silence, a vast silence which Véronique felt weighing upon her like a burden that grows heavier second after second.
"You must escape from this island," a voice repeated. "Go, quickly. Your father bade you, Madame Véronique."
Honorine was beside her, livid in the face, with her two hands clasping a napkin, rolled into a plug and red with blood, which she held to her chest.
"But I must look after you first!" cried Véronique. "Wait a moment . . . . Let me see . . . ."
"Later on . . . they'll attend to me presently," spluttered Honorine. "Oh, the monster! . . . If I had only come in time! But the door below was barricaded . . . ."
"Do let me see to your wound," Véronique implored. "Lie down."
"Presently . . . . First Marie Le Goff, the cook, at the top of the staircase . . . . She's wounded too . . . mortally perhaps . . . . Go and see."
Véronique went out by the door at the back, the one through which her son had made his escape. There was a large landing here. On the top steps, curled into a heap, lay Marie Le Goff, with the death-rattle in her throat.
She died almost at once, without recovering consciousness, the third victim of the incomprehensible tragedy. As foretold by old Maguennoc, M. d'Hergemont had been the second victim.
Honorine's wound was deep but did not seem likely to prove fatal. When Véronique had dressed it and moved Marie Le Goff's body to the room filled with books and furnished like a study in which her father was lying, she closed M. d'Hergemont's eyes, covered him with a sheet and knelt down to pray. But the words of prayer would not come to her lips and her mind was incapable of dwelling on a single thought. She felt stunned by the repeated blows of misfortune. She sat down in a chair, holding her head in her hands. Thus she remained for nearly an hour, while Honorine slept a feverish sleep.