She was going in the direction of the hall when he stopped her.
“Not that way.”
Opening a door, concealed behind some folds of tapestry, he said—
“Go down this staircase, you will meet no one.”
“There is no trap-dungeon at the bottom?” she asked, laughingly.
“No; there is only the concierge’s room.”
“Adieu. No ill will?”
“I should think not; you ought to be well satisfied. You carry away with you indulgences to the extent of a hundred thousand francs. Au revoir.”
She disappeared. He returned to his desk in dreamy mood. This woman, so dangerous and depraved, always disturbed him, though he knew her well.
A knock at the door threw him from his reverie. Rising to open it, an expression of pleasure came into his face. It was his daughter, who had come to see him.