"If I give you this paper," he said, hoarsely, "will you swear by—good heavens! He believes in nothing! What will he swear by?"
"My dear fellow, I have not the smallest interest in troubling your repose. This is better than any oath," said Benedetto.
Sanselme made no further resistance.
Benedetto looked at the paper. "The fool has signed his own name!" he said to himself. "But it may be better, after all!" And in another moment Benedetto vanished through the window.
Sanselme sat motionless for some time, then his wandering eyes fell on the bank-notes. He snatched them up.
"We must fly!" he said aloud. "He knows all, and there is not a moment to lose. Jane—my Jane! Yes, she will consent, I am sure. We will take the seven o'clock train to Havre, and then will go to America. There she will lead a new life!" He looked around the room.
"My baggage," he said to himself, "will not be much of a hindrance; but Jane must be aroused at once. What shall I say to her? What reason shall I give? Pshaw! she will require none. Besides, there is nothing to keep us in Paris."
With infinite caution he opened the door and stole down the stairs, feeling his way along the corridor in the darkness, until he reached Jane's door, which he found open.
Sanselme was aghast. The chamber was empty.