The old woman grasped the coins with her claw-like hand, saying:
“Tres bien, m’sieur,” and the head, adorned by curlers, disappeared.
The two men then mounted the stairs on tip-toe, and Ansell noiselessly unlocked the door of his apartment, believing Jean to be asleep.
But they found the lamp still burning as they had left it, the dirty plates still upon the table, and the atmosphere filled by the nauseous perfumes of petroleum.
Ralph’s quick eye caught the letter lying upon the table.
“Halloa! What’s this?” he cried, taking it up, glancing at the superscription, and tearing open the envelope.
He read through the brief, farewell message; then, crushing the paper in his hand fiercely, he stood for a few seconds without uttering a word.
“She’s gone!” he exclaimed at last; “and a good job, too. I’m freer without her; but, by Heaven! I’ll make her pay for deserting me like this! That I will!”
“Madame gone?” cried Carlier, starting in blank surprise.