"I'm off," she cried gaily to the porter as she held out her pass to him. "Thank the Lord, I'm going, and I have no fancy to come back to your hotel!"
Once in the street, Josephine walked quickly. She cast a glance at the clock at a cabstand, and found she was behind time.
She went along the Rue Ambroise Paré, then turned on to the outer boulevards.
The dinner-hour being at hand, the populous streets of the Chapelle quarter were at their lowest ebb of animation. The bookshops had long since released their employees, the cafés were giving up their customers. Fandor, having recognised Josephine, followed her closely as she passed the outer boulevards, then by Boulevard Barbès.
"Beyond a doubt she is bound for the Goutte d'Or," he muttered.
Some minutes later, sure enough, she reached her home.
"Very good! The bird is back in the nest: My job is now to watch the visitors who come to call on her."
Opposite Josephine's door there was a wine-shop. This Fandor entered.
"Writing materials, please," he ordered. "I must drop a line to Juve," he thought. "We must begin to set the trap."
He was busy drawing up a detailed plan of the neighbourhood when, on raising his head, he gave a violent start, and, throwing a coin on the table, rushed out of the shop.