The eyes were still there, at the foot of the bed. Were they between

the bed and the window-pane or behind the pane, that is to say, on the

balcony? That was what Raoul wanted to know. He also wanted to know

if those eyes belonged to a human being... He wanted to know

everything. Then, patiently, calmly, he seized his revolver and took

aim. He aimed a little above the two eyes. Surely, if they were eyes

and if above those two eyes there was a forehead and if Raoul was not

too clumsy ...

The shot made a terrible din amid the silence of the slumbering house.

And, while footsteps came hurrying along the passages, Raoul sat up

with outstretched arm, ready to fire again, if need be.

This time, the two eyes had disappeared.

Servants appeared, carrying lights; Count Philippe, terribly anxious: "What is it?"

"I think I have been dreaming," replied the young man. "I fired at two

stars that kept me from sleeping."

"You're raving! Are you ill? For God's sake, tell me, Raoul: what

happened?"

And the count seized hold of the revolver.

"No, no, I'm not raving... Besides, we shall soon see ..."

He got out of bed, put on a dressing-gown and slippers, took a light

from the hands of a servant and, opening the window, stepped out on the

balcony.

The count saw that the window had been pierced by a bullet at a man's

height. Raoul was leaning over the balcony with his candle: "Aha!" he

said. "Blood! ... Blood! ... Here, there, more blood! ... That's a

good thing! A ghost who bleeds is less dangerous!" he grinned.

"Raoul! Raoul! Raoul!"

The count was shaking him as though he were trying to waken a

sleep-walker.

"But, my dear brother, I'm not asleep!" Raoul protested impatiently.

"You can see the blood for yourself. I thought I had been dreaming and

firing at two stars. It was Erik's eyes ... and here is his blood! ...

After all, perhaps I was wrong to shoot; and Christine is quite capable

of never forgiving me ... All this would not have happened if I had

drawn the curtains before going to bed."

"Raoul, have you suddenly gone mad? Wake up!"

"What, still? You would do better to help me find Erik ... for, after

all, a ghost who bleeds can always be found."

The count's valet said: "That is so, sir; there is blood on the balcony."

The other man-servant brought a lamp, by the light of which they

examined the balcony carefully. The marks of blood followed the rail

till they reached a gutter-spout; then they went up the gutter-spout.

"My dear fellow," said Count Philippe, "you have fired at a cat."

"The misfortune is," said Raoul, with a grin, "that it's quite

possible. With Erik, you never know. Is it Erik? Is it the cat? Is

it the ghost? No, with Erik, you can't tell!"




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