He did not mean to sleep, but the morning was hot and sultry; and exhausted by excitement and by long nights of fatigue, his eyes closed and he fell into a slumber.
While he lay in that strange state of semi-consciousness, which is neither sleeping nor waking, he fancied that he saw a dark figure glide softly in at the door of the chamber and conceal itself behind the ample folds of the window curtains.
This figure entered the room with so noiseless a tread and disappeared so quickly that Paul, whose eyes had been closed all the time, thought the apparition formed part of his dream.
He fell into a deep slumber, from which he was suddenly aroused by the shutting of the door of his apartment.
This door had been closed so quietly, that the sound would have been unheard by an ordinary sleeper; but the overstrained state of the young man's nerves was such that a whisper would have awakened him.
The room was darkened by the closed Venetian shutters, which excluded the burning sun, and left the apartment in shadow.
Paul sprang to his feet and looked about him. The chamber was empty.
He tore aside the window curtains, but there was no one lurking behind their voluminous draperies.
His next impulse was to look to the safety of the portmanteau. It was gone!
He had placed it on a chair near the couch, on which he lay, but the chair was empty.