This disingenuous juggling revealed to Ralph d’Andresy the subtile and crafty nature of Beaumagnan with entire clearness. Inexorable and a fanatic, ravaged by love and pride, the man had decided on death. But there were in him scruples, cowardly hypocrisies, confused fears, which obliged him, so to speak, to hide himself from his own conscience and perhaps also from the eyes of justice. Hence this dark solution of the difficulty, this free hand obtained by this abominable trick. Now, standing on the threshold, he was gazing at the woman who was about to die. Livid and scowling, the muscles of his jaw twitching nervously, his arms crossed, he had as usual the rather theatrical air of a romantic personage. His brain must be teeming with tumultuous thoughts. Was he hesitating at the last moment? In any case his reflections did not last long. He gripped Godfrey d’Etigues by the shoulder and drew him over the threshold, flinging this order over his shoulder to de Bennetot as he went out: “Guard her! And no nonsense! Understand? If there is----” During the departure of the conspirators and then of their leaders the Countess of Cagliostro did not stir; and her face preserved that thoughtful and serene expression which was so little in keeping with the situation. “Assuredly she has no suspicion of the danger that threatens her,” Ralph said to himself. “All that she is looking forward to is confinement in a mad-house, and she is not worrying at all about the prospect of that.” An hour passed; the shades of evening began to darken the chamber. Twice the young woman looked at her watch. Then she tried to enter into conversation with de Bennetot; and of a sudden her face assumed an expression of incredible fascination and her voice inflections that moved one like a caress. De Bennetot grunted boorishly and did not answer. Another half-hour passed; she looked round and then gazed at the open door. It was quite clear that she had made up her mind that flight was possible, that she was drawing herself together to spring for the door. For his part, Ralph was trying to find some method of helping her in the effort. If he had had a revolver he would have made no bones about dropping de Bennetot. He thought for a moment of jumping down into the chamber; but the opening of his post of observation was too narrow. Besides some instinct seemed to awake de Bennetot to the danger and he pulled out his revolver, growling: “A movement, a single movement, and I shoot. By God, I will!” He was a man to keep that oath. She did not stir. Ralph, in a growing, torturing anxiety for her, gazed at her untiringly. Towards seven o’clock Godfrey d’Etigues returned, carrying a traveling rug over his arm. He lit a lamp and said to Oscar de Bennetot: “Get everything ready. Go and fetch the stretcher. It’s in the coach-house. Then you can go and get some dinner.”