"Ma foi!" said Riche to himself, "I can't leave Delapine like this. I must get him out of the house in spite of what he said, whether he likes it or not," and putting his thoughts into practice he ran down into the dining room.
"I'll swear," he said to himself, "there is someone moving about in the séance room. I wonder who it can be. I thought everyone had gone into the garden. I must go and see who it is."
Pierre was just in the act of pushing the piston home when he heard someone walking towards the door of the séance room. In his hurry he became nervous and his hand shook, so that the needle of the syringe broke off abruptly at the neck of the shaft.
"Damn," said Pierre to himself, as he flung the needle on one side. "I have only been able to inject a third of the contents of the syringe into his arm."
He let the syringe fall in his haste, and flew to the door, and throwing all his weight against it, managed to close it before he could be seen by the person opening it. Quickly turning the key in the lock, he ran to one of the side windows. To open it and vault on to the garden path was the work of an instant, and while Riche was endeavouring to force the door, Pierre had gained the garden gate, and had passed outside into the street. Quickly running along close to the garden wall, he turned down the corner of the first cross street, first looking back to make sure that he had not been followed.
"Lucky for me that no one saw me leave the house," he said to himself. "Anyhow, I have a good start, and I shall be able to get clean away without being seen."
Hailing a passing fiacre, he shouted to the cocher to stop, and opening the door he jumped in.
"Where shall I drive to?" asked the coachman.
"Drive straight on, and I will give you an address later on. Mais vite, vite!" he shouted, as looking through the small window at the back of the coach he caught sight of Riche running after him some distance behind.