Here's what had happened:
At his usual time, Morrel had arrived at the small door leading to Old Noirtier's room. Strangely, the door stood open, he didn't even need to ring. He walked into the entrance hall and called for a servant to take him to Monsieur Noirtier.
No answer. The servants had all fled, though Morrel didn't know that yet.
He wasn't particularly worried at first. The Count of Monte Cristo had promised that Valentine would live, and the Count had always kept his word. Every night he'd given Morrel news, which Noirtier confirmed the next morning.
Still, this unusual silence felt wrong.
He called again. And again. Nothing.
Finally, he decided to go upstairs himself.
Noirtier's door stood open like all the others. The old man sat in his wheelchair in his usual spot, but his eyes radiated alarm. His face was deathly pale.
"Are you well, sir?" Morrel asked, his heart sinking.
