He pressed the spring of his electric lantern again, ran to the dressing-room, made certain that the man had disappeared and, returning quietly to the table, lit the lamp.
Jeanne lay on her bed, pallid, in a dead faint.
The doctor, huddled in his chair, emitted inarticulate sounds.
"Come," said Lupin, laughing, "pull yourself together. There is nothing to excite ourselves about: it's all over."
"Her father!... Her father!" moaned the old doctor.
"If you please, doctor, Mlle. Darcieux is ill. Look after her."
Without more words, Lupin went back to the dressing-room and stepped out on the window-ledge. A ladder stood against the ledge. He ran down it. Skirting the wall of the house, twenty steps farther, he tripped over the rungs of a rope-ladder, which he climbed and found himself in M. Darcieux's bedroom. The room was empty.
"Just so," he said. "My gentleman did not like the position and has cleared out. Here's wishing him a good journey.... And, of course, the door is bolted?... Exactly!... That is how our sick man, tricking his worthy medical attendant, used to get up at night in full security, fasten his rope-ladder to the balcony and prepare his little games. He's no fool, is friend Darcieux!"
He drew the bolts and returned to Jeanne's room. The doctor, who was just coming out of the doorway, drew him to the little dining-room:
"She's asleep, don't let us disturb her. She has had a bad shock and will take some time to recover."