"But he can't be the gardener!" exclaimed the Countess. "His face? Can you see his face?" "No ... no.... It remains covered up." "But his clothes?" "His clothes?... I can't make them out.... He goes out.... He disappears." The young girl broke off as if her attention were fixed on someone whose outline was blurred and lost in the shadow like a phantom. "I do not see him any longer," she said. "I can see nothing any longer.... Do I?... Ah yes, the steps of the château.... The door is shut quietly.... And then ... then the staircase.... A long corridor dimly lighted by small windows.... However I can distinguish some prints ... galloping horses ... sportsmen in red coats.... Ah! The man!... The man is there, on his knees, before a door.... He turns the handle of the door.... It opens." "It must be one of the servants," said the Countess in a hollow voice. "And it must be a room on the first floor, since there are prints on the passage walls. What is the room like?" "The shutters are closed. The man has lit a pocket-lamp and is hunting about.... There's a calendar on the chimney-piece.... It's today, Wednesday.... And an Empire clock with gilded columns...." "The clock in my boudoir," murmured the Countess. "The hands point to a quarter of six.... The light of the lamp is directed to the other side of the room, onto a walnut cupboard with two doors. The man opens the two doors and reveals a safe." They were listening to Dorothy in a troubled silence, their faces twitching with emotion. How could anyone have failed to believe the whole of the vision the young girl was describing, seeing that she had never been over the château, never crossed the threshold of this boudoir, and that nevertheless she was describing things which must have been unknown to her. Dumfounded, the Countess exclaimed: "The safe was unlocked!... I'm certain of it ... I shut it after putting my jewels away ... I can still hear the sound of the door banging!" "Shut--yes. But the key there." "What does that matter? I
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