the
clerk and the gendarmes who had charge of the Abbe Carlos made no
remark. Also, in consequence of the devoted zeal of the sergeant who
had snatched up the Baroness to hinder any communication between the
prisoner and the visitors, there was a considerable space between them.

"Let us go on," said Jacques Collin, making an effort to rise.

At the same moment the little ball rolled out of his sleeve, and the
spot where it fell was noted by the Baroness, who could look about her
freely from under her veil. The little pellet, being damp and sticky,
did not roll; for such trivial details, apparently unimportant, had all
been duly considered by Jacques Collin to insure success.

When the prisoner had been led up the higher part of the steps, Asie
very unaffectedly dropped her bag and picked it up again; but in
stooping she seized the pellet which had escaped notice, its color being
exactly like that of the dust and mud on the floor.

"Oh dear!" cried she, "it goes to my heart.--He is dying----"

"Or seems to be," replied the sergeant.

"Monsieur," said Asie to the lawyer, "take me at once to Monsieur
Camusot; I have come about this case; and he might be very glad to see
me before examining that poor priest."

The lawyer and the Baroness left the guardroom, with its greasy,
fuliginous walls; but as soon as they reached the top of the stairs,
Asie exclaimed:

"Oh, and my dog! My poor little dog!" and she rushed off like a mad
creature down the _Salle des Pas-Perdus_, asking every one where her dog
was. She got to the corridor beyond (la Galerie Marchande, or Merchant's
Hall, as it is called), and flew to the staircase, saying, "There he
is!"

These stairs lead to the Cour de Harlay, through which Asie, having
played out the farce, passed out and took a hackney cab on the Quai des
Orfevres, where there is a stand; thus she vanished with the summons
requiring "Europe" to appear, her real name being unknown to the police
and the lawyers.

"Rue Neuve-Saint-Marc," cried she to the driver.

Asie could depend on the absolute secrecy of an old-clothes purchaser,
known as Madame Nourrisson, who also called herself Madame de
Saint-Esteve; and who would lend Asie not merely her personality, but
her shop at need, for it was there that Nucingen had bargained for the
surrender of Esther. Asie was quite at home there, for she had a bedroom
in Madame Nourrisson's establishment.

She paid the driver, and went up to her ro