“I placed Daddy Jacques against the wall, ordering him not to stir from the spot, while I, taking advantage of a moment when the moon was hidden by a cloud, moved to the front of the window, out of the patch of light which came from it,—for the window was half-open! If I could only know what was passing in that silent chamber! I returned to Daddy Jacques and whispered the word ‘ladder’ in his ear. At first I had thought of the tree which, a week ago, served me for an observatory; but I immediately saw that, from the way the window was half-opened, I should not be able to see from that point of view anything that was passing in the room; and I wanted, not only to see, but to hear, and—to act. “Greatly agitated, almost trembling, Daddy Jacques disappeared for a moment and returned without the ladder, but making signs to me with his arms, as signals to me to come quickly to him. When I got near him he gasped: ‘Come!’ “He led me round the château, past the donjon. Arrived there, he said: “‘I went to the donjon in search of my ladder, and in the lower part of the donjon which serves me and the gardener for a lumber room, I found the door open and the ladder gone. On coming out, that’s what I caught sight of by the light of the moon.’ “And he pointed to the further end of the château, where a ladder stood resting against the stone brackets supporting the terrace, under the window which I had found open. The projection of the terrace had prevented my seeing it. Thanks to that ladder, it was quite easy to get into the ‘off-turning’ gallery of the first floor, and I had no doubt of it having been the road taken by the unknown. “We ran to the ladder, but at the moment of reaching it, Daddy Jacques drew my attention to the half-open door of the little semi-circular room, situated under the terrace, at the extremity of the right wing of the château, having the terrace for its roof. Daddy Jacques pushed the door open a little further and looked in. “‘He’s not there!’ he whispered. “‘Who is not there?’ “‘The forest-keeper.’ “With his lips once more to my ear, he added: “‘Do you know that he has slept in the upper room of the donjon ever since it was restored?’ And with the same gesture he pointed to the half-open door, the ladder, the terrace, and the windows in the ‘off-turning’ gallery which, a little while before, I had re-closed. “What were my thoughts then? I had no time to think. I _felt_ more than I thought.