"Yes, you will speak. Not now; it's too late. But to-night." He bent down over him and, whispering in his ear, said, "Listen, Altenheim, and understand what I say. You'll be caught presently. To-night, you'll sleep at the Dépôt. That is fatal, irrevocable. I myself can do nothing to prevent it now. And, to-morrow, they will take you to the Santé; and later, you know where. . . . Well, I'm giving you one more chance of safety. To-night, you understand, I shall come to your cell, at the Dépôt, and you shall tell me where Geneviève is. Two hours later, if you have told the truth, you shall be free. If not . . . it means that you don't attach much value to your head."
The other made no reply. Sernine stood up and listened. There was a great crash overhead. The entrance-door yielded. Footsteps beat the flags of the hall and the floor of the drawing room. M. Weber and his men were searching.
"Good-bye, baron. Think it over until this evening. The prison-cell is a good counsellor."
He pushed his prisoner aside, so as to uncover the trap-door, and lifted it. As he expected, there was no longer any one below on the steps of the staircase.
He went down, taking care to leave the trap-door open behind him, as though he meant to come back.
There were twenty steps, at the bottom of which began the passage through which M. Lenormand and Gourel had come in the opposite direction. He entered it and gave an exclamation. He thought he felt somebody's presence there.
He lit his pocket-lantern. The passage was empty.
Then he cocked his revolver and said aloud:
"All right. . . . I'm going to fire."
No reply. Not a sound.