Without waiting for the baron's authorisation, Inspector Michel made a sign to his colleagues. They removed their overcoats, placed them on a chair, drew out their revolvers, and left the room.
The detectives were on the first steps of the flight of stairs leading to the third story, when they heard voices just above them. The piercing notes of the new groom's mother mingled with the refined accents of Wilhelmine de Naarboveck, who, in the absence of her companion, was about to show the new groom the room allotted to him. In such matters Wilhelmine was more punctilious than most.
"Did you hear, Vagualame?"
Bobinette paled. Could her overstrung nerves be playing her tricks? No.... There certainly were voices, voices on the floor below, strange voices!... Whose?... Why?
Vagualame was seated at the foot of the bed, much at his ease. His accordion lay on the floor. He met Bobinette's urgency with a shrug.
"Bah!"
With a despairing gesture, the terrified girl moved close to the old man.
"Don't you understand?... They have seen you! They are after you!... Master!" Bobinette bent forward, looked Vagualame in the eyes ... started ... drew back with a jerk.
This was not the Vagualame she knew!... Not her master!... Who, then?... Who but an enemy?... A police spy?... Horror!... She was trapped!... Lost!