Leaving his accomplice on the stairs, the masked man went forward. He seemed to know the ins and outs of the house, for he turned into the corridor and, without a moment's hesitation, walked towards the door of Elizabeth Dollon's room. He put his ear against it.
"She sleeps," he murmured.
He had inserted a key in the lock: there was an obstacle to its easy entrance.
"Confound it! The girl has left her own key in the lock!" he said softly.... "What the deuce am I to do now? What did Jules do when he got in and put out the lamp?... Why, of course, he took off the screw that fixes the staple—a simple push will suffice." With a push of his shoulder the door yielded. The stranger entered and carefully closed the door. He walked to the window and drew the curtains, muttering:
"That fool should have thought of this just now."
Taking a small electric torch from his pocket he turned on the light. Calmly, collectedly, he approached a couch at one side of the room.... On it lay Elizabeth Dollon in a deep sleep. She looked white as death.
"An excellent narcotic," he muttered, bending over the unconscious girl. "When one thinks that she took it at dinner, then went out, and that then it produced its effect!..."
Moving away from Elizabeth, he crossed the room to where the contents of the overturned trunk lay.
"Damnable papers!" he growled low. "To think!... It is too late now to continue the search.... Bah! By shutting the mouth of an informant ... that's the way to settle it ... the best way too!... Now for it!..."
Without apparent effort, the man in the hooded mask seized Elizabeth Dollon in his muscular arms.