“No. They’ve all gone to bed.”

“Good. And she?”

“She, too.”

“You did what I told you?”

Yes, master.”

“You were able to pour out the narcotic?”

“Yes, master.”

“And then?”

“What do you mean by then?”

“Have you carried out all my orders... the last?”

“Yes, it is all done!... I went into her room and blew out the lamp.”

“Good! Now for it!”

A slight brushing sound, along the low stone wall of the garden, was barely perceptible to a listening ear. The wall was topped by railings, and the gate had sheets of iron fastened to it. In a twinkling, the stranger leaped down beside Jules.

“It’s child’s play to vault that gate,” he said.

By the uncertain light of the stars, Jules could see the individual who had just joined him. His appearance was fantastic, and the wretched Jules started and trembled in every limb. The stranger, who had thus invaded Madame Bourrat’s domain, who a short while before had been wearing a long cloak and immense sombrero, wore them no longer. Probably he had rid himself of them by casting them among the bramble bushes on the waste ground around rue Docteur Blanche.

Now he was clad in a long black knitted garment moulded tightly to his figure, a sinister garment, by means of which the wearer can blend with the darkness so as to be almost indistinguishable. His face was entirely concealed by a long black hood, a movable mask, which prevented his features being seen: through two slits gleamed two eyeballs: they might have burned a way through like glowing coals.

“Master!... Master!” murmured Jules. “What are you going to do now?”

The spectral figure replied in a low tone:

“Fool!... go on in front – or no – better follow me!

And not a sound – it’s as much as your skin is worth!... Take care – great care!”

The two men advanced in silence. But, while Jules seemed to take exaggerated precautions to prevent being heard, his companion seemed naturally shod with silence.

He advanced noiselessly, almost invisible in his black garment.

The two accomplices were soon at the front-door steps of the house.

“Open,” commanded the master.

Jules slipped a key into the lock: noiselessly the door turned on its hinges.

“Listen,” whispered the cloaked man. “Half-way up the stairs, you must stop: I do not wish you to go right up.”

“But...”

“Do as I say! You must keep watch... If, by chance, you should hear a noise, if I were to be taken by surprise, you must go downstairs, making a great noise and shouting at the top of your voice: ‘Stop him!... Stop him!’ Thus, in the first moment of confusion, everyone will rush after you, and that will give me time to choose my way of escape.” Jules, whatever his fears, did not dare to question his instructions.