Waldemar, beside himself with rage, shook him violently by the shoulder. Lupin fell from his chair, sank to the floor, gave two or three convulsive movements and then lay quite still. "What's the matter with him?" exclaimed the Emperor. "He's not dead, I hope!" He took a lamp and bent over him: "How pale he is! A face like wax! . . . Look, Waldemar. . . . Feel his heart. . . . He's alive, is he not?" "Yes, Sire," said the count, after a moment, "the heart is beating quite regularly." "Then what is it? I don't understand. . . . What happened?" "Shall I go and fetch the doctor?" "Yes, run. . . ." The doctor found Lupin in the same state, lying inert and quiet. He had him put on a bed, subjected him to a long examination and asked what he had had to eat. "Do you suspect a case of poisoning, doctor?" "No, Sire, there are no traces of poisoning. But I am thinking . . . what's on that tray and in that cup?" "Coffee," said the count. "For you?" "No, for him. I did not have any." The doctor poured out some coffee, tasted it and said: "I was right. He has been put to sleep with a narcotic." "But by whom?" cried the Emperor, angrily. "Look here, Waldemar; it's exasperating, the way things happen in this place!" "Sire? . . ." "Well, yes, I've had enough of it! . . . I am really beginning to believe that the man's right and that there is some one in the castle. . . . That French money, that narcotic. . . ." "If any one had got into this enclosure, Sire, it would be known by this time. . . . We've been hunting in every direction for three hours." "Still, I didn't make the coffee, I assure you. . . . And, unless you did. . . ." "Oh, Sire!" "Well, then, hunt about . . . search. . . . You have two hundred men at your disposal; and the out-houses are not so large as all that! For, after all, the ruffian is prowling round here, round these buildings . . . near the kitchen . . . somewhere or other! Go and bustle about!" The fat Waldemar bustled about all night, conscientiously, because it was the master's order, but without conviction, because it was impossible for a stranger to hide among ruins which were so well-watched. And, as a matter of fact, the event proved that he was right: the investigations were fruitless; and no one was able to discover the mysterious hand that had prepared the narcotic drink. Lupin spent the night lifeless on his bed. In the morning, the doctor, who had not left his side, told a messenger of the Emperor's that he was still asleep. At nine o'clock, however, he made his first movement, a sort of effort to wake up. Later on, he stammered: "What time is it?" "Twenty-five to ten." He made a fresh effort; and it was evident that, in the midst of his torpor, his whole being was intent upon returning to life. A clock struck ten. He started and said: "Let them carry me; let them carry me to the palace."