The description was not one that would lead to a recognition of the person, and Tantaine asked in tones of extreme annoyance,—
“Did you not notice anything particular about the man?”
“Yes, he had on gold spectacles with the mountings as fine as a hair, and a watch chain as thick and heavy as I have ever seen.”
“And is that all?”
“Yes,” answered she. “Oh! there was one thing more—the person knows that you come here.”
“Does he? Why do you think so?”
“Because all the time he was talking to me he was in a rare fidget, and always kept his eyes on the door.”
“Thanks, Mother Brigaut; mind and keep a sharp lookout,” returned Tantaine, as he slowly ascended the stairs.
Every now and then he paused to think. “Who upon earth can this fellow be?” asked he of himself. He reviewed the whole question—chances, probabilities, and risks, not one was neglected, but all in vain.
“A thousand devils!” growled he; “are the police at my heels?”