th his
son Blaise, he was observed by Constance, who called him to her and
questioned him in such direct fashion that he had to tell her what steps
he had taken. When she heard of his appointment with La Couteau for
the Wednesday of the ensuing week, she said to him in her resolute way:
"Come and fetch me. I wish to question that woman myself. I want to be
quite certain on the matter."

In spite of the lapse of fifteen years Broquette's nurse-office in the
Rue Roquepine had remained the same as formerly, except that Madame
Broquette was dead and had been succeeded by her daughter Herminie.
The sudden loss of that fair, dignified lady, who had possessed such
a decorative presence and so ably represented the high morality and
respectability of the establishment, had at first seemed a severe one.
But it so happened that Herminie, a tall, slim, languid creature
that she was, gorged with novel-reading, also proved in her way a
distinguished figurehead for the office. She was already thirty and was
still unmarried, feeling indeed nothing but loathing for all the mothers
laden with whining children by whom she was surrounded. Moreover, M.
Broquette, her father, though now more than five-and-seventy, secretly
remained the all-powerful, energetic director of the place, discharging
all needful police duties, drilling new nurses like recruits, remaining
ever on the watch and incessantly perambulating the three floors of his
suspicious, dingy lodging-house.

La Couteau was waiting for Mathieu in the doorway. On perceiving
Constance, whom she did not know, for she had never previously met her,
she seemed surprised. Who could that lady be? what had she to do with
the affair? However, she promptly extinguished the bright gleam of
curiosity which for a moment lighted up her eyes; and as Herminie, with
distinguished nonchalance, was at that moment exhibiting a party of
nurses to two gentlemen in the office, she took her visitors into the
empty refectory, where the atmosphere was as usual tainted by a horrible
stench of cookery.

"You must excuse me, monsieur and madame," she exclaimed, "but there is
no other room free just now. The place is full."

Then she carried her keen glances from Mathieu to Constance, preferring
to wait until she was questioned, since another person was now in the
secret.

"You can speak out," said Mathieu. "Did you make the inquiries I spoke
to you about?"

"Certainly, monsieur. They were made, and prope