To venture into the gallery might upset all Rouletabille's plans.

After all, I had nothing to reproach myself for, and if something had happened that my friend had not expected he could only blame himself.

Unable to be of any further assistance to him by means of a signal, I left the dark closet and, still in my socks, made my way to the "off-turning" gallery.
There was no one there.

I went to the door of Rouletabille's room and listened.

I could hear nothing.