"I do not fear you; my precautions are taken." "That bell will not save you." At last he spoke in a hoarse and quivering voice: "To you the responsibility of whatever happens Madame." "I accept it before God," she said, with a calm firmness. "Defend yourself." He went to the armchair on which he had placed his coat and hat, and bending down to take them, he noiselessly turned the draught of the stove. At the same time Madame Dammauville pulled the bellcord; the maid opened the door of the salon. "Show Doctor Saniel to the door." CHAPTER XXXV A SECOND VICTIM On returning to his room Saniel was very much cast down, and without lighting a candle, he threw himself on the divan, where he remained prostrated. The frightful part of the affair was the rapidity with which he condemned this poor woman to death, and without hesitation executed her. To save himself she must die; she should die. This time the idea did not turn and deviate as in Caffie's case. Is it not true then, that it is the first crime that costs, and in the path that he had entered, would he go on to the end sowing corpses behind him? A shudder shook him from head to foot as he thought that this victim might not be the last that his safety demanded. When she threatened to warn the judge, he only saw a threat; if she spoke he was lost; he had closed her mouth. But had not this mouth opened before he closed it? Had she not already spoken? Before deciding on this interview she may have told all to some one of her friends, who, between the time of his departure with Balzajette and his return, might have visited her, or to some one for whom she had sent for advice. In that case, those also were condemned to death. A useless crime, or a series of crimes? The horror that rose within him was so strong that he thought of running to the Rue Sainte-Anne; he would awake the sleeping household, open the doors, break the windows, and save her. But between his departure and this moment the carbonic acid and the oxide of carbon had had time to produce asphyxiation, and certainly he would arrive after her death; or, if he found her still living, some one would discover that the draught of the stove had been turned, and seeing it, he would betray himself as surely as by an avowal. After all, the maid might have discovered that the draught was turned, and in that case she was saved and he was lost. Chance would decide between them. There are moments when a shipwrecked man, tired of swimming, not knowing to which side to direct his course, without light, without guide, at the end of strength and hope, floats on his back and lets himself be tossed by the waves, to rest and wait for light. This was his case; he could do nothing but wait. He would not commit the insane folly of wishing to see and know, as in Caffie's case; he would know the result soon enough, too soon.