M. de Tregars had also stopped.
“What kind of a looking person was this lady?” he asked.
“Dressed all in black, with a thick veil on her face.”
“All right. I thank you.”
The porter returned to his lodge. Mme. Zelie broke the seal. The first envelope contained another, upon which she spelt, for she did not read very fluently, “To be handed to M. Vincent.”
“Some one knows that he is hiding here,” she said in a tone of utter surprise. “Who can it be?”
“Who? Why, the woman whose reputation M. Favoral was so anxious to spare when he put you in the Rue du Cirque house.”
There was nothing that irritated the young woman so much as this idea.
“You are right,” she said. “What a fool he made of me; the old rascal! But never mind. I am going to pay him for it now.”
Nevertheless when she reached her story, the third, and at the moment of slipping the key into the keyhole, she again seemed perplexed.