"Well, master?" questioned Jules in a low, trembling voice.
In a calm, quiet voice, the man in the hood mask replied:
"It is done—is successful.... I have wedged the door to. You will be careful when you are sweeping to-morrow."
Jules lowered his head.
"Yes ... yes.... Have you?..."
The stranger put his hand on the servant's shoulder.
"Listen," whispered the stranger, "I do not repeat my orders twenty times over,... have I not already told you that I do not allow myself to be questioned?... try to remember that!... You wish to know whether I have killed her?... Well, I will tell you this: I have not killed her. But I have so managed things that she will kill herself!... A suicide, you understand.... One piece of advice: to-morrow, keep anyone from going to her room as long as you can ... if Madame Bourrat, or anyone else asks for her, you must say that you saw her leave the house—that she has gone out...."
"But," protested Jules, "it is impossible, what you tell me to say, master! It just happens that she is expecting visitors to-morrow!... She told me that, on this account, she meant to stay indoors all day!"
The man with the hood mask ground his teeth.
"You idiot! What does that matter?... You are to say: Mademoiselle Elizabeth has just gone out, but she told me that she was not going far, and that she would return in about twenty minutes.... If anyone should ask for her again, you are to answer that she has not come in yet!..."