He made signs that he must speak, and with some difficulty she got Périne into the landing, thrusting into her hands the bread which would have been her own portion. Then she locked her door and went back to Jean, who was eagerly waiting.
"Marie, I have a thought," he began. "What do you make out of all she says?"
"Next to nothing," said his wife, shrugging her shoulders.
"No?" said Jean, feverishly and a little contemptuously. "Suppose I suggested that she saw the figures on the lamp of a cab, what then?"
"What then?" repeated she, puzzled.
"And a box, and a man angry with her for looking. What then?"
"Oh, I don't understand!" said Marie, shaking her head.
"Heavens, that any one should be so dense! Have you forgotten the robbery?"
"In the Rue Vivienne—oh, do you mean—do you think it possible! Jean, how clever you are! I wonder whether—shall I run to the place and see?"
"To the place, and even if they were still there, get yourself knocked on the head!"