"I don't feel well.... I don't feel at all well. Come, Mlle. Antoinette, where were we in your book?"
"Aren't you going to bed, monsieur le baron?"
"No, no, I don't care to go to bed till very late; besides, I can do without help."
Twenty minutes later, the old man dozed off again and Antoinette moved away on tip-toe.
At that moment, Charles was carefully closing the shutters on the ground floor, as usual. In the kitchen, he pushed the bolt of the door that led to the garden and, in the front hall, he not only locked the double door, but put up the chain fastening the two leaves. Then he went up to his attic on the third floor, got into bed and fell asleep.
Perhaps an hour had elapsed when, suddenly, he jumped out of bed: the bell was ringing. It went on for quite a long time, seven or eight seconds, perhaps, and in a steady, uninterrupted way.
"That's all right," said Charles, recovering his wits. "Some fresh whim of the baron's, I suppose."
He huddled on his clothes, ran down the stairs, stopped before the door and, from habit, knocked. No answer. He entered the room:
"Hullo!" he muttered. "No light.... What on earth have they put the light out for?" And he called, in a whisper, "Mademoiselle!..."
No reply.