On such a night he had retired early, and was restlessly tossing on his bed when he heard a familiar voice outside the front door of the flat. The concierge was talking to some one, who was enquiring for a Monsieur Désigné. The concierge said: “There is no one of that name living here, sir, and I do not remember seeing any one such as you describe.”
“Who lives in this flat?” asked the voice.
The concierge replied: “Monsieur Vachelle, sir, a very quiet gentleman, sir. I think he is from Brittany, sir. He speaks French, but with a slight provincial accent.”
Monsieur Henri Vachelle was the assumed name under which Raife was living in the Rue Lafayette.
Springing from his bed, he hastily pushed aside a sliding panel, by means of which he was able to see, through a combination of mirrors, who was in the passage. It was true. He was not mistaken. The concierge was talking to Detective-inspector Herrion.
Chapter Twenty Five.
The Beginning of the Revenge.
Raife’s mind was already perturbed by the reflections it had undergone. The thought of Herrion searching for Lesigne outside his flat was more than he could tolerate. Hastily dressing, he let himself out of the door of the second flat, and, calling a taxi, drove to Doctor Malsano’s rooms.