Leaving him there watching me as I went upwards, I mounted slowly to the landing, and by the light of an arrow-slit which dimly lit the ruinous place found the door he had described, and tried it with my hand. It was locked, but I heard someone moan in the room, and a step crossed the floor, as if he or another came to the door and listened. I knocked, hearing my heart beat in the silence.
At last a voice quite strange to me cried, 'Who is it?'
'A friend,' I muttered, striving to dull my voice that they might not hear me below.
'A friend!' the bitter answer came. 'Go! You have made a mistake! We have no friends.'
'It is I, M. de Marsac,' I rejoined, knocking more imperatively. I would see M. de Bruhl; I must see him.'
The person inside, at whose identity I could now make a guess, uttered a low exclamation, and still seemed to hesitate. But on my repeating my demand I heard a rusty bolt withdrawn, and Madame de Bruhl, opening the door, a few inches, showed her face in the gap. 'What do you want?' she murmured jealously.
Prepared as I was to see her, I was shocked by the change in her appearance, a change which even that imperfect light failed to hide. Her blue eyes had grown larger and harder, and there were dark marks under them. Her face, once so brilliant, was grey and pinched; her hair had lost its golden lustre. 'What do you want?' she repeated, eyeing me fiercely.
'To see him,' I answered.
'You know?' she muttered. 'You know that he----'
I nodded.