g the rampart shaded the triangular
space, and made it a favourite lounge from which the inhabitants of that
quarter of the town could view the mountains and the sunset while
tasting the freshness of the evening air.

A score of times had Claude Mercier listened to a description of this
row of lofty houses dominating the ramparts. Now he saw it, and, charmed
by the position and the aspect, he trembled lest he should fail to
secure a lodging in the house which had sheltered his father's youth.
Heedless of the suspicious glances shot at him by the watch at the Porte
Tertasse, he consulted the rough plan which his father had made for
him--consulted it rather to assure himself against error than because he
felt doubt. The precaution taken, he made for a house a little to the
right of the Tertasse gate as one looks to the country. He mounted by
four steep steps to the door and knocked on it.

It was opened so quickly as to disconcert him. A lanky youth about his
own age bounced out and confronted him. The lad wore a cap and carried
two or three books under his arm as if he had been starting forth when
the summons came. The two gazed at one another a moment: then, "Does
Madame Royaume live here?" Claude asked.

The other, who had light hair and light eyes, said curtly that she did.

"Do you know if she has a vacant room?" Mercier asked timidly.

"She will have one to-night!" the youth answered with temper in his
tone: and he dashed down the steps and went off along the street without
ceremony or explanation. Viewed from behind he had a thin neck which
agreed well with a small retreating chin.

The door remained open, and after hesitating a moment Claude tapped once
and again with his foot. Receiving no answer he ventured over the
threshold, and found himself in the living-room of the house. It was
cool, spacious and well-ordered. On the left of the entrance a wooden
settle flanked a wide fireplace, in front of which stood a small heavy
table. Another table a little bigger occupied the middle of the room; in
one corner the boarded-up stairs leading to the higher floors bulked
largely. Two or three dark prints--one a portrait of Calvin--with a
framed copy of the Geneva catechism, and a small shelf of books, took
something from the plainness and added something to the comfort of the
apartment, which boasted besides a couple of old oaken dressers, highly
polished and gleaming, with long rows of pewter ware. Two doors stood