chateau.

Stricken silent, turned to stone, Firmin sat with his mouth open, in
the midst of an unfinished word. Madame Firmin scuttled to the
kitchen door she had left unlocked on her return from the scullery,
and locked it. She turned, and they stared at one another.

The heavy knocker fell again and again and again. Between the
knocking there was a sound like the roaring of lions. Husband and
wife stared at one another with white faces. Firmin picked up his
gun with trembling hands, and the movement seemed to set his teeth
chattering. They chattered like castanets.

The knocking still went on, and so did the roaring.

It had gone on at least for five minutes, when a slow gleam of
comprehension lightened Madame Firmin's face.

"I believe it's the master's voice," she said.

"The master's voice!" said Firmin, in a hoarse, terrified whisper.

"Yes," said Madame Firmin. And she unlocked the thick door and
opened it a few inches.

The barrier removed, the well-known bellow of the millionaire came
distinctly to their ears. Firmin's courage rushed upon him in full
flood. He clumped across the room, brushed his wife aside, and
trotted to the door of the chateau. He unlocked it, drew the bolts,
and threw it open. On the steps stood the millionaire, Germaine, and