The cemetery was hardly more desolate than the dark and gloomy oldhouse. Thus it had lived on, almost unknown, and entirely unmolested, through the many little revolutions in the town, and the greatest revolutions in the history of man, from Louis XV. to Charles X. Now it was the year 1830.
At nightfall on this day, Doctor Satiani wandered in this direction; and when it was dark, he entered the court and rapped lightly at the side door. It was presently opened by a small, slender figure, but no light appeared, and he entered. The door was quietly closed and locked after him.
"Monsieur," said the small, dark figure, "will you descend at once?"
“Yes.”
"Will you have a light?"
"No." Feeling his way, he walked toward the wall between the room he had entered and a smaller room behind. Here he opened a door at right angles with the partition, and descended into the cellar.
Before long, some rays of light mingled with muttering, inarticulate talk and odious chemical fumes ascended from below through the cracks in the old floor.
