Either this wretch had forgotten the features of Rudolph, whom he had seen only once, or the change of dress prevented him from recognizing him, for he manifested no astonishment at his appearance.
"What do you want?" said Rudolph.
"Here is a letter for Madame Mathieu. I must give it into her own hands," answered the man.
"She does not live here: inquire opposite," said Rudolph.
"Thank you, friend; they told me it was the door to the left; I am mistaken."
Rudolph did not know the name of the diamond broker; he had therefore no motive to interest himself about the woman to whom the rogue came as a messenger. Nevertheless, although he was ignorant of the crimes of this bandit, his face had such a guilty look of perversity, that he remained on the threshold of the door, curious to see the person to whom he brought this letter. Hardly had the man knocked at the opposite door when it was opened, and the broker, a large woman of about fifty years of age, appeared, holding a candle in her hand.
"Madame Mathieu?" said the messenger.
"That's my name."
"Here is a letter; I want an answer." He made a step in advance, as if to enter the room; but she made a motion for him not to advance, unsealed the letter, read it, and answered, with a satisfied air:
"You will say it is all right, my lad; I will bring what they wish; I will go to-morrow at the same time as before. Give my compliments to this lady."