Then utter blackness!
CHAPTER XXVIII
A GREAT CRIMINAL
Coquenil came back to consciousness his first thought was that the adventure had brought him no pain; he moved his arms and legs and discovered no injury, then he reached out a hand and found that he was lying on a cold stone floor with his head on a rough sack filled apparently with shavings.
He did not open his eyes, but tried to think where he could be and to imagine what had happened. It was not conceivable that his enemy would let him escape, this delay was merely preliminary to something else and—he was certainly a prisoner—somewhere.
Reasoning thus he caught a sound as of rustling paper, then a faint scratching. With eyes still shut, he turned his face toward the scratching sound, then away from it, then toward it, then away from it. Now he sniffed the air about him, now he rubbed a finger on the floor and smelled it, now he lay quiet and listened. He had found a fascinating problem, and for a long time he studied it without moving and without opening his eyes.
Finally he spoke aloud in playful reproach: "It's a pity, baron, to write in that wonderful diary of yours with a lead pencil."
Instantly there came the scraping of a chair and quick approaching steps.