ON THE WATCH
"Oh! Oh!" he cried. "What is the matter with me?—Have I been poisoned?"
He looked at us with haggard eyes. We questioned him vainly; he did not answer us. He had sunk into an armchair and we could get not a word from him. We were extremely distressed, both on his account and on our own, for we had partaken of all the dishes he had eaten. He seemed to be out of pain; but his heavy head had fallen on his shoulder and his eyelids were tightly closed. Rouletabille bent over him, listening for the beatings of the heart.
My friend's face, however, when he stood up, was as calm as it had been a moment before agitated.
"He is asleep," he said.
He led me to his chamber, after closing Larsan's room.
"The drug?" I asked. "Does Mademoiselle Stangerson wish to put everybody to sleep, to-night?"
"Perhaps," replied Rouletabille; but I could see he was thinking of something else.
"But what about us?" I exclaimed. "How do we know that we have not been drugged?"
"Do you feel indisposed?" Rouletabille asked me coolly.
"Not in the least."
"Do you feel any inclination to go to sleep?"
"None whatever."
"Well, then, my friend, smoke this excellent cigar."
And he handed me a choice Havana, one Mon-
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