It is going to be a terrible matter; for I tell you he is working on wrong lines, and I--I, must fight him with nothing!" I was surprised at the profoundly grave accent with which my young friend pronounced the last words.
He repeated: "Yes terrible!--terrible! For it is fighting with nothing, when you have only an idea to fight with." At that moment we passed by the back of the chateau.

Night had come.

A window on the first floor was partly open.

A feeble light came from it as well as some sounds which drew our attention.

We approached until we had reached the side of a door that was situated just under the window.
Rouletabille, in a low tone, made me understand, that this was the window of Mademoiselle Stangerson's chamber.