Who has taken it from its place?
And, by heaven!—what is this?—
Who has opened the window of the loft, which he himself had bolted from the inside before the barn was filled with the sheaves?
Below at the foot of the ladder, the ground looked moist, as if a liquid had been spilled. An odor of petroleum rose from the spot.
With trembling hands he seized the straw which was strewn on the ground. Yes, it was wet, and the obnoxious odor communicated itself to the fingers that touched it.
He felt his knees tremble under him, a dull, terrible foreboding clouded his senses. With difficulty he raised himself up and mounted the ladder, till he reached the window of the loft.
The dog whined below.
“Seek for your master, Turk. Seek!”
The animal broke out into a joyous howl and ran sniffing round and round, till he seemed to have found the scent.
Paul gazed at him. He was trembling feverishly, in agonizing suspense.