I turned it more violently; still nothing happened.

I bent down suddenly and looked through the keyhole.

And I saw--not a key, but--an eye! And for ten seconds I looked at the eye.
Then the eye disappeared; and I heard that little unmistakable "click." The eye had a pistol--and had cocked it! Was that because it saw through the keyhole strange garments, instead of the friendly bright blue of Bontet's blouse?
And why had the eye such a dislike to strangers?
I straightened myself again and took a walk along the length of the stable, considering these questions and, incidentally, looking for a window; but the only window was a clear four feet above my head.
I am puzzled even now to say whether I regret not having listened to the suspicion that was strong in my breast.

Had I forecast, in the least degree, the result of my neglecting to pay heed to its warning, I should not have hesitated for a moment.

But in the absence of such a presage, I felt rather indifferent about the matter.