Then, as she still kept silent, weeping, he wanted to take her hand, and thus noticed the little bag which she had taken.
“What is that?” he asked, in a tone, which, under its affected gentleness, betrayed no small dissatisfaction.
“Some indispensable articles.”
“Ah! you did not after all take your jewels, madam?”
“No, certainly not, sir!”
Still this persistency on the part of M. de Brevan began to strike her as odd; and she would have betrayed her surprise, if the carriage had not at that moment stopped suddenly before No. 23 Water Street.
“Here we are, madam,” said M. de Brevan.
And, lightly jumping down, he rang the bell at the door, which opened immediately. The room of the concierge was still light. M. de Brevan walked straight up to it, and opened the door like a man who is at home in a house.
“It is I,” he said.
A man and a woman, the concierge and his wife, who had been dozing, her nose in a paper, started up suddenly.