imes, at the
door and, immediately on entering, pushed the bolt:

"Lie down at once," he whispered to the girl, who had not taken off her
things. "You must appear to have gone to bed. Brrrr, it's cold in here!
Is the window open in your dressing-room?"

"Yes ... would you like me to ...?"

"No, leave it as it is. They are coming."

"They are coming!" spluttered Jeanne, in affright.

"Yes, beyond a doubt."

"But who? Do you suspect any one?"

"I don't know who.... I expect that there is some one hidden in the
house ... or in the park."

"Oh, I feel so frightened!"

"Don't be frightened. The sportsman who's looking after you seems jolly
clever and makes a point of playing a safe game. I expect he's on the
look-out in the court."

The doctor put out the night-light, went to the window and raised the
blind. A narrow cornice, running along the first story, prevented him
from seeing more than a distant part of the courtyard; and he came back
and sat down by the bed.

Some very painful minutes passed, minutes that appeared to them
interminably long. The clock in the village struck; but, taken up as
they were with all the little noises of the night, they hardly noticed
the sound. They listened, listened, with all their nerves on edge:

"Did you hear?" whispered the doctor.

"Yes ... yes," said Jeanne, sitting up in bed.

"Lie down ... lie down," he said, presently. "There's some one coming."

There was a little tapping sound outside, against the cornice. Next came
a series of indistinct noises, the nature of which they could not make
out for certain. But they had a feeling that the window in the
dressing-room was being opened wider, for they were buffeted by gusts of
cold air.

Suddenly, it became quite clear: there was some one next door.

The doctor, whose hand was trembling a little, seized his revolver.
Nevertheless, he did not move, remembering the formal orders which he
had received and fearing to act against them.

The room was in absolute darkness; and they were unable to see where the
adversary was. But they felt his presence.

They followed his invisible movements, the sound of his footsteps
deadened by the carpet; and they did not doubt but that he had already
crossed the threshold of the room.

And the adversary stopped. Of that they were certain. He was standing
six steps away from the bed, motionless, undecided perhaps, seeking to
pierce the darkness with his keen eyes.

Jeanne's hand,