“Where?”
The fellow hesitated, but a glance at our faces told him that we would take no equivocation.
“With the concierge of the house at the corner of the Rue Jean St. Denis and the Rue de Beauvais,” he answered, at last.
“Have you taken any papers there as yet?”
“No. This afternoon was the first chance I had to get any.”
I paused to consider.
“This man can tell us nothing further,” I said, after a moment. “Let us put him out of the way for a time.”
“There is a bed in the next room,” said Cellamare.
We lifted him as gently as we could and laid him on the bed. Then we returned to the larger room and carefully closed the door between the two.
“It seems to me that we are lost,” and Cellamare threw himself into a chair, his face dark with disappointment.