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Well! What had happened? He could not understand. That
candlestick, that clock; why were those articles not in their
accustomed places? Ah! what had happened in the dread silence of
the night?
Suddenly a cry escaped him. He had touched--oh! some strange,
unutterable thing! "No! no!" he thought, "it cannot be. It is
some fantasy of my excited brain." For twenty seconds, thirty
seconds, he remained motionless, terrified, his forehead bathed
with perspiration, and his fingers still retained the sensation of
that dreadful contact.
Making a desperate effort, he ventured to extend his arm again.
Once more, his hand encountered that strange, unutterable thing.
He felt it. He must feel it and find out what it is. He found
that it was hair, human hair, and a human face; and that face was
cold, almost icy.
However frightful the circumstances may be, a man like Arsene Lupin
controls himself and commands the situation as soon as he learns
what it is. So, Arsene Lupin quickly brought his lantern into use.
A woman was lying before him, covered with blood. Her neck and
shoulders were covered with gaping wounds. He leaned over her and
made a closer examination.
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