Arrived there, she alighted, dismissed the cab, and proceeded on foot to the Faubourg St. Martin, to the house we have visited already, and in which our friend Hyde was still a prisoner.
Simply mentioning her name, she passed by the porter with the air of one who knew her road, although it was probably the first time she had come there. On the sixth floor she knocked as Hyde had done, and was admitted much as he had been.
There was no disguise about her, however, and she sent in her name as "Mrs. Wilders, just arrived from England, and most anxious to see Mr. Hobson."
"You, Cyprienne!" said the man we know, who answered to the names of both Hobson and Ledantec. "In Paris! This was quite unnecessary. I am arranging everything. You had my letter?"
"Pshaw! Hippolyte, you can't befool me."
"Why this tone? I tell you I have done everything."
"You may think so, but in the meantime Rupert has stolen a march on me. He has got the papers—"
"Impossible!"
"It is so. Got them, and placed them, with a full statement, in Lord Essendine's hands."
"How do you know this?"