He sees no movement anywhere.
The curtains are so still that he almost wishes the wind would stir them.

He opens the bureau and again looks wistfully round.

He is almost sure that the curtains move.

'Coward that I am,' he cries, 'what do I fear ?' He turns again, and, looking into the bureau, sees that all the open divisions are filled with papers, and imagines what must be the contents of the closed and secret compartments.

As he touches one of these a tremor seizes him, and he fancies that a hand is on his shoulder.