"Don't you understand? It is so that we shall be able to hear the
tick-tack better."

"Oh, yes, I understand. But I do not hear anything."

"For myself, I think I hear the tick-tack all the time since the
last attempt. It haunts my ears, it is frightful, to say to one's
self: There is clockwork somewhere, just about to reach the
death-tick - and not to know where, not to know where! When the
police were here I made them all listen, and I was not sure even
when they had all listened and said there was no tick-tack. It is
terrible to hear it in my ear any moment when I least expect it.
Tick-tack! Tick-tack! It is the blood beating in my ear, for
instance, hard, as if it struck on a sounding-board. Why, here
are drops of perspiration on my hands! Listen!"

"Ah, this time someone is talking - is crying," said the young man.

"Sh-h-h!" And Rouletabille felt the rigid hand of Matrena Petrovna
on his arm. "It is the general. The general is dreaming!"

She drew him into the dining-room, into a corner where they could
no longer hear the moanings. But all the doors that communicated
with the dining-room, the drawing-room and the sitting-room
remained open behind him, by the secret precaution of Rouletabille.

He waited while Matrena, whose breath he heard come hard, was a
little behind. In a moment, quite talkative, and as though she
wished to distract Rouletabille's attention from the sounds above,
the broken words and sighs, she continued: