Many windows looking into that huge quadrangular yard were open at that moment, but he did not raise his head--he had not the strength to.

The staircase leading to the old woman's room was close by, just on the right of the gateway.

He was already on the stairs....
Drawing a breath, pressing his hand against his throbbing heart, and once more feeling for the axe and setting it straight, he began softly and cautiously ascending the stairs, listening every minute.

But the stairs, too, were quite deserted; all the doors were shut; he met no one.

One flat indeed on the first floor was wide open and painters were at work in it, but they did not glance at him.