"What have you to say, Estermen?" he demanded.
"It was a miracle," Estermen faltered. "Sir Julien descended the stairs with the copy in his hand to speak to a caller. For seventeen hours he had been in his rooms, for the following seventeen hours he would probably have been there, too. For the intervening thirty seconds he happened to be upon the pavement. It was a miracle!"
This was the end of all the specious story which Estermen had gone over so often to himself! Yet he had done his cause no harm, for the few sentences he spoke were the truth.
"You have discovered his present whereabouts?" his master demanded.
Estermen hesitated. He feared that this was another blow which he was about to deal.
"He is at the house of Madame Christophor in the Rue de St. Paul," he faltered.
His news, however, did not discompose Prince Falkenberg. On the contrary, he seemed, if anything, to find the intelligence agreeable.
"Have you made any inquiries as to his condition?"
Estermen shrugged his shoulders.
"The household of Madame Christophor," he replied, "is, as you know, outside my sphere of influence. It is, besides, incorruptible. I myself am personally obnoxious to Madame. I could do nothing but wait for your coming."