invasion. The dupes who are
sometimes caught in clandestine "hells" have the same humiliated
attitudes.

At last, and not without an effort,

"M. Favoral is no longer here," replied M. Chapelain, the old
lawyer.

The commissary of police started. Whilst they were discussing with
him through the door, he had perfectly well understood that they
were only trying to gain time; and, if he had not at once burst in
the door, it was solely owing to his respect for M. Desormeaux
himself, whom he knew personally, and still more for his title of
head clerk at the Department of Justice. But his suspicions did
not extend beyond the destruction of a few compromising papers.
Whereas, in fact:

"You have helped M. Favoral to escape, gentlemen?" said he.

No one replied.

"Silence means assent," he added. "Very well: which way did he get
off?"

Still no answer. M. Desclavettes would have been glad to add
something to the forty-five thousand francs he had just lost, to be,
together with Mme. Desclavettes, a hundred miles away.

"Where is Mme. Favoral?" resumed the commissary, evidently well
informed. "Where are Mlle. Gilberte and M. Maxence Favoral?"

They continued silent. No one in the dining-room knew what might
have taken place in the other room; and a single word might be treason.

The commissary then became impatient.

"Take up a light," said he to one of the agents who had remained at
the door, "and follow me. We shall see."

And without a shadow of hesitation, for it seems to be the privilege
of police-agents to be at home everywhere, he crossed the parlor,
and reached Mlle. Gilberte's room just as she was withdrawing from
the window.

"Ah, it is that way he escaped!" he exclaimed.

He rushed to the window, and remained long enough leaning on his
elbows to thoroughly examine the ground, and understand the situation
of the apartment.

"It's evident," he said at last, "this window opens on the courtyard
of the next house."

This was said to one of his agents, who bore an unmistakable
resemblance to the servant who had been asking so many questions in
the afternoon.

"Instead of gathering so much useless information," he added, "why
did you not post yourself as to the outlets of the house?"

He was "sold"; and yet he manifested neither spite nor anger. He
seemed in no wise anxious to run after the fugitive. Upon the
features of Maxence and of Mlle. Gilberte, and more still in Mme.
Favoral's eyes,