"Don't you touch it," said Dreyel sharply.
Murner had already put out his hands for it but drew back, surprised at the tone of Dreyel's voice. They stood face to face.
"What do you mean?" asked Murner, "Are you afraid of it?"
"No," replied Dreyel, "but no one must lay a finger upon it ... not yet."
He took up a position between the shelf and Murner. When he saw the expression of Murner's face, he indulged in a cynical smile. "You are so impatient," he said, "I can't tell you any more just now, but perhaps the visitor I am expecting will...." He stopped abruptly. "Go down to your diggings, Murner, and leave me to myself; when your detective friend does come, he will find a tangle, even in his opinion, worth unraveling."
Murner was about to answer, but Dreyel's determined attitude prevented him, and he turned obediently towards the door. Then he looked round once more and said:
"Wouldn't it be better if I stayed with you?"
"No," replied Dreyel, "it will be better that you should receive Maurice Wallion downstairs."
He shook the young man's hand and said good-bye. Then he almost pushed him into the passage and closed the door.
It was nearly half-past eight when Murner reached his own quarters, below those occupied by Dreyel. He hung up his wet coat and went into his workroom or study. He felt ill at ease as if he had been drawn into a strange, antagonistic circle against his will. Dreyel's curious behavior both irritated and worried him. What was it that had really happened? He could not prevent his thoughts from dwelling on the telegram which, undoubtedly, had some connection with the wooden doll. Who could "E.R." be, whom Dreyel was so anxious to receive alone that evening? Who was "Toroni," and what secret had he got to know?