Descending to the courtyard once more, he called a fiacre, and, when the man had driven up, inquired whether he knew where the Rue Jacquarie was. The man looked at him with some show of surprise.
"Oui, m'sieu," he replied, "I know the Rue Jacquarie, of course; but——"
"Never mind any buts," Browne replied, as he jumped into the cab. "I have business in the Rue Jacquarie, so drive me there at once."
"To what number?" the man inquired, in a tone that implied that he was not over-anxious for the job.
"Never mind the number," said Browne; "drive me to the corner and set me down there."
The man whipped up his horse, and they started viâ the Rue Tronchet. Turning into the Rue St. Honoré, and thence into the Place de la Madeleine, they proceeded in the direction of Montmartre. For some time Browne endeavoured to keep tally of the route; eventually, however, he was obliged to relinquish the attempt in despair. From one street they passed into another, and to Browne it seemed that every one was alike. At last the driver stopped his horse.
"This is the Rue Jacquarie," he said, pointing with his whip down a long and somewhat dingy thoroughfare.
Browne bade him wait for him, and then proceeded down the street on foot in search of No. 35. After the magnificent quarter of the city in which he had installed himself, the Rue Jacquarie seemed mean and contemptible in the extreme. The houses were small and dingy, and it was plain that they were occupied by people who were not the possessors of any conspicuous degree of wealth. He walked the whole length of the street in search of No. 35, and, not finding it, returned upon the other side. At last he discovered the house he wanted. He thereupon crossed the road, and, standing on the opposite pavement, regarded it steadfastly.
Lights shone from three of the windows, and Browne's pulses beat more quickly as he reflected that it was just possible one of them might emanate from Katherine's room.
It was now close upon ten o'clock, and if all had gone well with them the girl should now have been in Paris some three hours. It was extremely unlikely that, after such a journey, she would have gone out, so that he had every reason for feeling certain she must be in the house before him. In spite of the thin rain that was falling, he stood and watched the building for some minutes. Once a woman's shadow passed across a blind upon the second floor, and Browne felt his heart leap as he saw it. A few moments later a man and a woman passed the concierge. They paused upon the doorstep to wish some one within "good-night"; then, descending the steps, they set off in the same direction in which Browne himself had come. Before doing so, however, they turned and looked up and down the street, as if they were afraid they might be observed. Seeing Browne watching the house, they hastened their steps, and presently disappeared down a side thoroughfare. For an ordinary observer this small event might have had little or no significance; but to Browne, in whose mind indefinable suspicions were already shaping themselves, it seemed more than a little disquieting. That they had noticed him, and that they were alarmed by the knowledge that he was watching the house, was as plain as the lights in the windows opposite. But why they should have been so frightened was what puzzled him. What was going on in the house, or rather what had they been doing that they should fear being overlooked? He asked himself these questions as he paced down the street in the direction of his cab. But he could not answer them to his satisfaction.