As he came to this conclusion he returned to the table behind which the little man had stood. His eyes fell upon a piece of paper which was lying in its centre.
“What is that? I didn’t notice anything there when I lit the candle.”
It was a quarter-sheet of dirty notepaper – own brother to the scrap which Madame had shown him. It contained two words, written in the same cramped handwriting as the words upon her piece—
“Until to-morrow.”
“That’s odd. How came that there? There can be no doubt that the thing’s well done.”
He thought so when, having put out the candle and returned into bed, on laying his head on the pillow, his cheek came into contact with another scrap of paper.
“What the – !”
He sprang out of bed as though a serpent had stung him. With hands which actually trembled he
