He went to the door of his chamber and called "Francois!"
Francois slept in an upper room, but still the asylum was not a lofty building, and he should have heard.
"He must be fast asleep, as usual," grumbled M. Bourdon. "I must go up and rouse him. It would be well if I had a horsewhip."
Slipping on a part of his clothing, the doctor crept up stairs.
He knocked at the door of his dilatory servant.
"Francois! Francois, I say. Are you dead?"
There was no answer.
"I suppose he has locked his door," muttered the doctor, as he tried the latch.
But no! the door opened, and, to his dismay, the room was empty. The bed had not been disturbed.