‘I do not understand you, monsieur. I have no one in Paris with whom I can exchange a word—none, but these good people.’
‘I do not see how any one could have got to the mill,’ said Benoit. ‘I brought over the boat myself from the quay.’
‘And you have not moved from this room?’
‘Never, since I disembarked with this maiden.’
‘It is strange,’ said the physician. ‘I had put out my lamp, the better to watch the colour of a lambent violet flame that played about the crucible. The lights from the bridge fell upon the window, and I distinctly saw the shadow of a human being, if human it were, pass across the curtain on the outside. Hark! there is a noise above!’
There could be now no doubt; the shuffling of feet was plainly audible on the roof of the floating house; but of feet evidently moved with caution.
‘I will go and see,’ cried Benoit, taking down the lamp, which was suspended from one of the beams. ‘If they are intruders, I can soon warn them off.’
‘No, no!’ cried the chemist eagerly; ‘do not leave the room; barricade the door; no one must enter.’
‘We have nothing to barricade it with,’ replied Benoit, getting frightened himself at the anxiety of his master. ‘Oh dear! oh dear! we shall be burnt for witches on the Grêve. I see it all.’
‘Pshaw! imbecile,’ cried the other. ‘Here, you have the table, these chairs. Bring sacks, grain, anything!’