Without a word, they hurried across the courtyard and up the servants' staircase, the only means of communication with the floor by which the escape had been effected.
A long passage, with many windings, lined with small, numbered rooms, led to a door, which had been simply left ajar. Beyond this door and, consequently, in another house, was another passage, also with a number of turns and lined with similar rooms. Right at the end was a servants' staircase. Ganimard went down it, crossed a yard, a hall and rushed into a street: the Rue Picot. Then he understood: the two houses were built back to back and their fronts faced two streets, running not at right angles, but parallel, with a distance of over sixty yards between them.
He entered the porter's lodge and showed his card:
"Have four men just gone out?"
"Yes, the two servants of the fourth and fifth floors, with two friends."
"Who lives on the fourth and fifth floors?"
"Two gentlemen of the name of Fauvel and their cousins, the Provosts.... They moved this morning. Only the two servants remained.... They have just gone."
"Ah," thought Ganimard, sinking on to a sofa in the lodge, "what a fine stroke we have missed! The whole gang occupied this rabbit-warren!..."
Forty minutes later, two gentlemen drove up in a cab to the Gare du Nord and hurried toward the Calais express, followed by a porter carrying their bags.