CHAPTER Twenty-one.
_The Miracle_ No great intelligence was needed to understand the meaning of it.
Fernand, having trapped his game, was now about to kill it.

He could suffocate the two with smoke, blown into the tunnel, and make them rush blindly out.

The moment they appeared, dazed and uncertain, the revolvers of half a dozen gunmen would be emptied into them.
"It's like taking a trap full of rats," said Ronicky bitterly, "and shaking them into a pail of water.

Let's go back and see what we can." They had only to turn the corner of the tunnel to be sure.

Fernand had had the door of the tunnel slid noiselessly open, then, into the tunnel itself, smoking, slowly burning, pungent pieces of pine wood had been thrown, having been first soaked in oil, perhaps.