“Then,” she said, “every thing will go on right. The entrance of the closet with the glass doors is on the right as you go in. Come along now, and walk easy.”
And she opened the door.
XI
The apartment was exactly as described by Mme. Cadelle. In the dark and narrow ante-chamber, three doors opened,—on the left, that of the dining-room; in the centre, that of a parlor and bedroom which communicated; on the right, that of the closet. M. de Tregars slipped in noiselessly through the latter, and at once recognized that Mme. Zelie had not deceived him, and that he would see and hear every thing that went on in the parlor. He saw the young woman walk into it. She laid her provisions down upon the table, and called,
“Vincent!”
The former cashier of the Mutual Credit appeared at once, coming out of the bedroom.
He was so changed, that his wife and children would have hesitated in recognizing him. He had cut off his beard, pulled out almost the whole of his thick eye-brows, and covered his rough and straight hair under a brown curly wig. He wore patent-leather boots, wide pantaloons, and one of those short jackets of rough material, and with broad sleeves which French elegance has borrowed from English stable-boys. He tried to appear calm, careless, and playful; but the contraction of his lips betrayed a horrible anguish, and his look had the strange mobility of the wild beasts’ eye, when, almost at bay, they stop for a moment, listening to the barking of the hounds.
“I was beginning to fear that you would disappoint me,” he said to Mme. Zelie.
“It took me some time to buy your breakfast.”
“And is that all that kept you?”