“What is it?”
“The dogs, over there—look—”
There was a growl. Valméras gave a low whistle. Two white forms leapt forward and, in four bounds, came and crouched at their master’s feet.
“Gently—lie down—that’s it—good dogs—stay there.”
And he said to Beautrelet:
“And now let us push on. I feel more comfortable.”
“Are you sure of the way?”
“Yes. We are near the terrace.”
“And then?”
“I remember that, on the left, at a place where the river terrace rises to the level of the ground-floor windows, there is a shutter which closes badly and which can be opened from the outside.”