He pointed to the door with an authoritative gesture, and Leroux, no longer hesitating--eager, perhaps, to get out of the presence of his master--shuffled across the room. Madame was able to throw him a last, warning look, to which he responded by a significant nod of the head. Whether de Maurel actually saw either of these two signs, or whether his suspicions had been aroused during the interview, it were difficult to say. Certain it is that Leroux had already opened the door and was stepping across the threshold, when a peremptory "Stay!" from de Maurel brought him to a halt. He remained standing under the lintel, his hand upon the door and glancing back over his shoulder at Ronnay. "What is it now?" he queried sullenly. "You will vacate the Lodge at close of day, of course," said de Maurel curtly. "Vacate the Lodge?" muttered Leroux. "I cannot vacate the Lodge all in a moment like that. What should I do with my clothes? Where should I sleep to-night?" "In the compound," replied de Maurel dryly, "and you can collect your effects in an hour." "It is like turning a dog out of his kennel," retorted Leroux with a snarl. "And who is to sleep at the Lodge to-night? Mathurin cannot leave the foundries. There are fifty thousand barrels of powder stacked in the shed behind the Lodge ... and fifty men working overtime to-night. Who is going to look after them? Who is going to see that the fifty thousand barrels of gunpowder are not blown into kingdom come through the carelessness of one of them?" "Surely not you," rejoined de Maurel quietly, "whose disobedience is only equalled by your criminal carelessness. Yesterday, after closing hours, I found the side gate open and unguarded." "Carelessness is not a crime," riposted Leroux in a more conciliatory tone. "We are all worked to death at the factory like galley-slaves ... I more than the rest.... I forgot to see to the side gate--what? It is not a crime. If I am to be turned out of my bed like a cur," he reiterated sullenly, "who, I should like to know, is going to sleep in it to-night?" "I am," replied de Maurel simply. "You!" The word came simultaneously from two pairs of lips. Madame had spoken it instinctively, just as--instinctively--she had risen to her feet, and Leroux had uttered it hoarsely and raucously, as he suddenly turned on his heel, and once more faced the master whom he hated and feared. "You?" he reiterated in an indefinable tone of incredulity, of rage and of terror. "I spoke plainly enough," rejoined de Maurel unmoved. "Did you perchance think that I was jesting?"