A freckled face, half hidden by a matted shock of hair, appeared. Julie was not reticent like her mother. She explained in a hoarse, alcoholic voice:
"It's quite simple. When I came in last night about four I heard groans in Josephine's room. I went to see and found Josephine writhing in pain as if she had been—poisoned."
"What did you do then?"
"Oh, nothing," declared Julie. "I just trotted away again; it wasn't my business, but the Flirt came and meddled in it."
"The Flirt! Where is she?"
The Flirt, a faded, wrinkled woman of fifty, appeared from a doorway where she had been listening.
"Where is Josephine?" demanded Loupart.
"At Lâriboisière hospital, ward 22, since you want to know."
After a moment's amazement, Loupart broke out furiously:
"You sent off Josephine in the middle of the night! You took her to a hospital for a little indigestion! Without asking my consent! Why she's no more ill than I am!"