Chapter 7

VII

ARSENATE OF SODA

The mysterious hand held a phial and poured the entire contents
into the potion. Then the hand withdrew as it had come, slowly,
prudently, slyly, and the key turned in the lock and the bolt
slipped back into place.

Like a wolf, Rouletabille, warning Matrena for a last time not to
budge, gained the landing-place, bounded towards the stairs, slid
down the banister right to the veranda, crossed the drawing-room
like a flash, and reached the little sitting-room without having
jostled a single piece of furniture. He noticed nothing, saw
nothing. All around was undisturbed and silent.

The first light of dawn filtered through the blinds. He was able
to make out that the only closed door was the one to Natacha's
chamber. He stopped before that door, his heart beating, and
listened. But no sound came to his ear. He had glided so lightly
over the carpet that he was sure he had not been heard. Perhaps
that door would open. He waited. In vain. It seemed to him there
was nothing alive in that house except his heart. He was stifled
with the horror that he glimpsed, that he almost touched, although
that door remained closed. He felt along the wall in order to
reach the window, and pulled aside the curtain. Window and blinds
of the little room giving on the Neva were closed. The bar of iron
inside was in its place. Then he went to the passage, mounted and
descended the narrow servants' stairway, looked all about, in all
the rooms, feeling everywhere with silent hands, assuring himself
that no lock had been tampered with. On his return to the veranda,
as he raised his head, he saw at the top of the main staircase a
figure wan as death, a spectral apparition amid the shadows of the
passing night, who leaned toward him. It was Matrena Petrovna.
She came down, silent as a phantoms and he no longer recognized her
voice when she demanded of him, "Where? I require that you tell me.
Where?"

"I have looked everywhere," he said, so low that Matrena had to
come nearer to understand his whisper. "Everything is shut tight.
And there is no one about."

Matrena looked at Rouletabille with all the power of her eyes, as
though she would discover his inmost thoughts, but his clear glance
did not waver, and she saw there was nothing he wished to hide.
Then Matrena pointed her finger at Natacha's chamber.

"You have not gone in there?" she inquired.

He replied, "It is not necessary to enter there."

"I will enter there, myself, nevertheless," said she, and she set
her teeth.

He barred her way with his arms spread out.

"If you hold the life of someone dear," said he, "don't go a step
farther."

"But the person is in that chamber.