,Jérôme Fandor rose and went towards one of the drawing-room doors.

“You are making a mistake,” said Monsieur Nanteuil, “the office is this way,” and he pointed to another door. “Bah! All roads lead to Rome!” With that, Fandor went out by the door he had approached first.

“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 make-up.” 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.

He called down the stairs:

“Waiter!... Porter!”

But apparently the one and only manservant the house boasted was occupied elsewhere, for no one answered.

Fandor returned to the door of Elizabeth’s room, knelt down and tried to look through the keyhole. The inside key was there, which seemed to confirm his agonising fear.

“She has not gone out then!”

He took a deep breath.

“What a horrible smell of gas!”

This time he did not hesitate. He rose, stepped back, sprang forward, and with a vigorous push from the shoulder, he drove the door off its hinges.

“My God!” he shouted.

In the centre of the room, Fandor had just seen Elizabeth Dollon lying unconscious. A tube, detached from a portable gas stove, was between her tightly closed lips!

The tap was turned full on. He flung himself on his knees near the poor girl, pulled away the deadly tube, and put his ear to her heart.

What joy, what happiness, he felt when he heard, very feeble, but quite unmistakable, the beatings of Elizabeth’s heart!

“She lives!” What unspeakable relief Jérôme Fandor felt! What thankfulness!

The noise he had made breaking the door off its hinges brought the whole household running to the spot. As the manservant, followed by Madame Bourrat, followed in turn by Monsieur Barbey and Monsieur Nanteuil, appeared in the doorway uttering cries of terror, Jérôme called out:

“No one is to come in!... It is an accident!” Then, lifting Elizabeth in his strong arms, he carried her out of the room.

“What she needs is air!”

He hurried downstairs and out into the garden with his precious burden, followed by the terrified witnesses of the scene.