"Me," said Jean.
"You!" She glanced at him with a smile of incredulity.
"Yes, petite."
He puffed continuous rings towards the ceiling, wondering whether he had better explain.
Presently came a tap at the door. The girl hastened to answer it, while Jean refilled his pipe thoughtfully. When she came back she was more excited. She whispered,—
"Monsieur Benoit, le concierge, he wants to see you,—he must let them in!"
"Well, let them in!" exclaimed the young man.
He had thought of Madeleine, chiefly, and the effect of his arrest upon her. A hearing must inevitably lead to her exposure, if not to his. But it was useless to endeavor to escape. He felt that he was trapped. Being in that fix, he may as well face the music.
"But he wants to see you personally," said the girl.
Jean went to the door, where the saturnine Benoit stood with his flaring candle. The man cautiously closed the inner vestibule door.