catastrophe;
and the newspaper lying on the table showed how they had heard it.

"Some one called to see you last night," said Mme. Fortin, a large
fat woman, whose nose was always besmeared with snuff, and whose
honeyed voice made a marked contrast with her bird-of-prey look.

"Who?"

"A gentleman of about fifty, tall and thin, with a long overcoat,
coming down to his heels."

Maxence imagined, from this description, that he recognized his own
father. And yet it seemed impossible, after what had happened, that
he should dare to show himself on the Boulevard du Temple, where
everybody knew him, within a step of the Cafe Turc, of which he
was one of the oldest customers.

"At what o'clock was he here?" he inquired.

"I really can't tell," answered the landlady. "I was half asleep
at the time; but Fortin can tell us."

M. Fortin, who looked about twenty years younger than his wife, was
one of those small men, blonde, with scanty beard, a suspicious
glance, and uneasy smile, such as the Madame Fortins know how to
find, Heaven knows where.

"The confectioner had just put up his shutters," he replied:
"consequently, it must have been between eleven and a quarter-past
eleven."

"And didn't he leave any word?" said Maxence.

"Nothing, except that he was very sorry not to find you in. And,
in fact, he did look quite annoyed. We asked him to leave his name;
but he said it wasn't worth while, and that he would call again."

At the glance which the landlady was throwing toward him from the
corner of her eyes, Maxence understood that she had on the subject
of that late visitor the same suspicion as himself.

And, as if she had intended to make it more apparent still,

"I ought, perhaps, to have given him your key," she said.

"And why so, pray?"

"Oh! I don't know, an idea of mine, that's all. Besides, Mlle.
Lucienne can probably tell you more about it; for she was there
when the gentleman came, and I even think that they exchanged a
few words in the yard."

Maxence, seeing that they were only seeking a pretext to question
him, took his key, and inquired,

"Is--Mlle. Lucienne at home?"

"Can't tell. She has been going and coming all the morning, and
I don't know whether she finally staid in or out. One thing is
sure, she waited for you last night until after twelve; and she
didn't like it much, I can tell you."

Maxence started up the steep stairs; and, as he reached the upper
stories, a woman's v