have done, and not have acted like a hotel-rat!  Now, there is someone in your home (or who comes to your home) who acts like a hotel-rat because he does not wish to be seen, because he does not wish to be discovered, because he does not wish to be taken in the act.  Now, the moment that he fears nothing so much as to be taken in the act, so that he plays all these tricks of legerdemain, it is certain that his object lies beyond the act itself, beyond the bomb, beyond the poison.  Why all this necessity for bombs of deferred explosion, for clockwork placed where it will be confused with other things, and not on a bare staircase forbidden to everbody, though you visit it twenty times a day?”

“But this man comes in as he pleases by day and by night?  You don’t answer.  You know who he is, perhaps?”

“I know him, perhaps, but I am not sure who it is yet.”

“You are not curious, little domovoi doukh!  A friend of the house, certainly, and who enters the house as he wishes, by night, because someone opens the window for him.  And who comes from the Krestowsky Villa!  Boris or Michael!  Ah, poor miserable Matrena!  Why don’t they kill poor Matrena?  Their general!  Their general!  And they are soldiers — soldiers who come at night to kill their general.  Aided by — by whom?  Do you believe that?  You?  Light of my eyes! you believe that!  No, no, that is not possible!  I want you to understand, monsieur le domovoi, that I am not able to believe anything so horrible.  No, no, by Jesus Christ Who died on the Cross, and Who searches our hearts, I do not believe that Boris - who, however, has very advanced ideas, I admit — it is necessary not to forget that; very advanced; and who composes very advanced verses also, as I have always told him — I will not believe that Boris is capable of such a fearful crime.  As to Michael, he is an honest man, and my daughter, my Natacha, is an honest girl.  Everything looks very bad, truly, but I do not suspect either Michael or Boris or my pure and beloved Natacha (even though she has made a translation into French of very advanced verses, certainly most improper for the daughter of a general).  That is what lies at the bottom of my mind, the bottom of my heart — you have understood me perfectly, little angel of paradise?  Ah, it is you the general owes his life to, that Matrena owes her life.  Without you this house would already be a coffin.  How shall I ever reward you?  You wish for nothing!  I annoy you!  You don’t even listen to me!  A coffin - we would all be in our coffins!  Tell me what you desire.  All that I have belongs to you!”

“I desire to smoke a pipe.

“Ah, a pipe!  Do you want some yellow perfumed tobacco that I receive every month from Constantinople, a treat right from the harem?  I will get enough for you, if you like it, to smoke ten thousand pipes full.”

“I prefer caporal,” replied Rouletabille.  “But you are right.  It is not wise to suspect anybody.  See, watch, wait.  There is always time, once the game is caught, to say whether it is a hare or a wild boar.  Listen to me, then, my good mamma.  We must know first what is in the phial.  Where is it?”