"They are nice fellows," said Fandor to himself. "If Elizabeth Dollon is really not in!... but... Is she really not in the house? I am by no means sure.... If she feels timid at the idea of seeing the bankers—their visit may have made her nervous, considering the state she is in ... she might have sent to say she was not at home in order to have time to add some finishing touches to her toilette."
Fandor, who knew the house, mounted the little staircase leading to the first floor. Elizabeth's room was on this floor. Before her door he stopped and sniffed.
"Queer smell!" he murmured. "It smells like gas!"
He knocked boldly, calling:
"Mademoiselle Elizabeth! It is I, Fandor!"
The smell of gas became more pronounced as he waited.
A horrible idea, an agonising fear, flashed through his mind.
He knocked as hard as he could on the door.
"Mademoiselle Elizabeth! Mademoiselle!"
No answer.