f I should die here of rage! For
it is written in my will in so many words, 'I bequeath to my son, Noel
Gerdy!' If he is guilty, there isn't a punishment sufficiently severe
for him. But is this woman never going home?"

The woman was in no hurry. The weather was charming, her dress
irresistible, and she intended showing herself off. She visited three
or four more shops, and at last stopped at a confectioner's, where she
remained for more than a quarter of an hour.

The old fellow, devoured by anxiety, moved about and stamped in his cab.
It was torture thus to be kept from the key to a terrible enigma by the
caprice of a worthless hussy! He was dying to rush after her, to seize
her by the arm, and cry out to her: "Home, wretched, creature, home at
once! What are you doing here? Don't you know that at this moment your
lover, he whom you have ruined, is suspected of an assassination? Home,
then, that I may question you, that I may learn from you whether he is
innocent or guilty. For you will tell me, without knowing it. Ah! I have
prepared a fine trap for you! Go home, then, this anxiety is killing
me!"

She returned to her carriage. It started off once more, passed up the
Rue de Faubourg Montmarte, turned into the Rue de Provence, deposited
its fair freight at her own door, and drove away.

"She lives here," said old Tabaret, with a sigh of relief.

He got out of the cab, gave the driver his forty francs, bade him wait,
and followed in the young woman's footsteps.

"The old fellow is patient," thought the driver; "and the little
brunette is caught."

The detective opened the door of the concierge's lodge.

"What is the name of the lady who just came in?" he demanded.

The concierge did not seem disposed to reply.

"Her name!" insisted the old man.

The tone was so sharp, so imperative, that the concierge was upset.

"Madame Juliette Chaffour," he answered.

"On what floor does she reside?"

"On the second, the door opposite the stairs."

A minute later, the old man was waiting in Madame Juliette's
drawing-room. Madame was dressing, the maid informed him, and would be
down directly.

Tabaret was astonished at the luxury of the room. There was nothing
flaring or coarse, or in bad taste. It was not at all like the apartment
of a kept woman. The old fellow, who knew a good deal about such things,
saw that everything was of great value. The ornaments on the mantelpiece
alone must have cost, at the lowest e