The detective was still in his wheel chair; with a skilful turn he went back to the balcony and his post of observation.
Evening was coming on. After a fine day the sky had become leaden and overcast with great clouds: a storm was threatening. Juve swore.
"I shan't see much this evening; this confounded Josephine is so sentimental that she loves dreaming in the gloaming at her window without lighting up. Devil take her!"
Juve had armed himself with his spy-glass; he apparently levelled it at Porte Maillot, and in that way he could see something of the movements of Josephine in the rooms opposite him.
"Flowers on the chimney and on the piano! Expecting her lover probably!"
Suddenly he started up in his chair.
"Ah! some one has rung her bell. She is going toward the entrance door."
A minute passed; in the front rooms Juve no longer saw anyone. Josephine must be receiving a visitor.
Some minutes more went by; a heavy shower of rain came down and Juve was forced to leave his balcony.
When he resumed his watching he could not suppress an exclamation of surprise.