He found that it was not safe to walk about on the floor of the loft in the dark, for the timbers groaned under his weight, and the boards were full of holes and traps; but near the head of the stairs was an old sail, which seemed to have been placed there for his especial accommodation. Lying down on this, he wooed the slumber which his head, still dizzy from the effects of the blow, required.
"I'm all right now," said he to himself. "It smells fishy; I will call it Hotel de Poisson, and go to sleep."
While the steward was seeking a resting-place for his weary head, Dock Vincent walked down to the Point to ascertain whether or not he had killed his victim. He was gone, and the ruffian went home again.
Mr. C. Augustus Ebénier could not go to sleep in his hotel as readily as he desired; but, just as he was dropping off, he was startled by the sound of voices, in low, suppressed tones, hardly above a whisper. He heard footsteps, and then the dim light of a lantern shed its rays up through the holes and cracks in the floor. In vain he tried to identify the voices; the whispers did not enable him to do so. He dared not move lest the creaking of the timbers should alarm the nocturnal visitors.
He was satisfied that the persons below were engaged in some kind of mischief, and it was his business to know what it was, and who the men were. Near the centre of the loft there was a large hole in the floor, and he commenced working himself by hundredth parts of an inch towards it; but every time he moved, however slightly, the creaking joist threatened to betray his presence, and he decided to satisfy himself at once. One glance might inform him who the men were, and perhaps the mystery of the stolen gold would be solved.
The steward made a spring towards the aperture, throwing himself forward upon his hands, so as to look down through the hole. He had forgotten the ruinous condition of the Hotel de Poisson. His weight and the force of his movement were too much for the strength of the rotten wood; a timber gave way, and Mr. C. Augustus Ebénier was precipitated, head first, through the hole he had made, and struck between the two men, who sat each on a rock facing the other, with the light on the ground between them. The lantern was smashed, and the two men uttered a howl of terror.
