who had complained of
feeling tired at dinner, came home at ten o'clock and, contrary to his
usual custom, pushed the bolts of the hall-door. In that case, how would
the others be able to carry out their plan and go to Daubrecq's room?
Lupin waited for an hour after Daubrecq put out his light. Then he went
down to the deputy's study, opened one of the windows ajar and returned
to the third floor and fixed his rope-ladder so that, in case of need,
he could reach the study without passing though the house. Lastly, he
resumed his post on the second-floor landing.

He did not have to wait long. An hour earlier than on the previous night
some one tried to open the hall-door. When the attempt failed, a few
minutes of absolute silence followed. And Lupin was beginning to think
that the men had abandoned the idea, when he gave a sudden start. Some
one had passed, without the least sound to interrupt the silence. He
would not have known it, so utterly were the thing's steps deadened by
the stair-carpet, if the baluster-rail, which he himself held in his
hand, had not shaken slightly. Some one was coming upstairs.

And, as the ascent continued, Lupin became aware of the uncanny feeling
that he heard nothing more than before. He knew, because of the rail,
that a thing was coming and he could count the number of steps climbed
by noting each vibration of the rail; but no other indication gave him
that dim sensation of presence which we feel in distinguishing movements
which we do not see, in perceiving sounds which we do not hear. And yet
a blacker darkness ought to have taken shape within the darkness and
something ought, at least, to modify the quality of the silence. No, he
might well have believed that there was no one there.

And Lupin, in spite of himself and against the evidence of his reason,
ended by believing it, for the rail no longer moved and he thought that
he might have been the sport of an illusion.

And this lasted a long time. He hesitated, not knowing what to do, not
knowing what to suppose. But an odd circumstance impressed him. A clock
struck two. He recognized the chime of Daubrecq's clock. And the chime
was that of a clock from which one is not separated by the obstacle of a
door.

Lupin slipped down the stairs and went to the door. It was closed,
but there was a space on the left, at the bottom, a space left by the
removal of the little panel.

He listened. Daubrecq, at that moment, turned in his bed;