At last midnight sounded--the hour had come. Still the doctor did
not move. Having been obliged to wait himself, he wished, in
revenge, to make the others wait, and it was not until the cafe
closed that he again walked up the Rue de Courcelles. Madame Leon
had left the gate ajar, and the doctor had no difficulty in making
his way into the courtyard. As in the earlier part of the
evening, the servants were assembled in the concierge's lodge; but
the careless gayety which shone upon their faces a few hours
before had given place to evident anxiety respecting their future
prospects. Through the windows of the lodge they could be seen
standing round the two choice spirits of the household, M.
Bourigeau, the concierge, and M. Casimir, the valet, who were
engaged in earnest conversation. And if the doctor had listened,
he would have heard such words as "wages," and "legacies," and
"remuneration for faithful service," and "annuities" repeated over
and over again.
But M. Jodon did not listen. Thinking he should find some servant
inside, he entered the house. However, there was nobody to
announce his presence; the door closed noiselessly behind him, the
heavy carpet which covered the marble steps stifled the sound of
his footsteps, and he ascended the first flight without seeing any
one. The door opening into the count's room was open, the room
itself being brilliantly lighted by a large fire, and a lamp which
stood on a corner of the mantel-shelf.
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