The voice that answered her was the voice of Jack Straw.
"Hullo, there, Mrs. Fontaine! Let me in."
She placed a strong constraint on herself; she spoke in friendly tones. "What do you want, Jack?"
"I want to show you my keys."
"What do I care about the crazy wretch's keys?"—was the thought that passed through Madame Fontaine's mind, when Jack answered her from the outer side of the door. But she was still careful, when she spoke to him, to disguise her voice in its friendliest tones.
"Excuse me for keeping you waiting, Jack. I can't let you in yet."
"Why not?"
"Because I am dressing. Come back in half an hour; and I shall be glad to see you."
There was no reply to this. Jack's step was so light that it was impossible to hear, through the door, whether he had gone away or not. After waiting a minute, the widow ventured on peeping out. Jack had taken himself off. Not a sign of him was to be seen, when she bent over the railing of the corridor, and looked down on the stairs.
She locked herself in again. "I hope I haven't offended him!" she thought, as she returned to the empty medicine-chest.