started but the young woman was far from being in her usual
spirits. It was clear that she was regretting bitterly having gone
so far, and not having been able to get away at the last moment.
As the carriage went on, she became paler and a frown appeared upon
her face.

"No matter," she began: "it's a nasty thing I am doing there."

"Do you repent then, assisting me to punish your friend's assassins?"
said M. de Tregars.

She shook her head.

"I know very well that old Vincent is a scoundrel," she said; "but
he had trusted me, and I am betraying him."

"You are mistaken, madame. To furnish me the means of speaking to
M. Favoral is not to betray him; and I shall do every thing in my
power to enable him to escape the police, and make his way abroad."

"What a joke!"

"It is the exact truth: I give you my word of honor." She seemed
to feel easier; and, when the carriage turned into the Rue St.
Lazare, "Let us stop a moment," she said.

"Why?"

"So that I can buy old Vincent's breakfast. He can't go out to eat,
of course; and so I have to take all his meals to him."

Marius's mistrust was far from being dissipated; and yet he did not
think it prudent to refuse, promising himself, however, not to lose
sight of Mme. Zelie. He followed her, therefore, to the baker's
and the butcher's; and when she had done her marketing, he entered
with her the house of modest appearance where she had her apartment.

They were already going up stairs, when the porter ran out of his
lodge.

"Madame!" he said, "madame!"

Mme. Cadelle stopped.

"What is the matter?"

"A letter for you."

"For me?"

"Here it is. A lady brought it less than five minutes ago. Really,
she looked annoyed not to find you in. But she is going to come
back. She knew you were to be here this morning."

M. de Tregars had also stopped.

"What kind of a looking person was this lady?" he asked.

"Dressed all in black, with a thick veil on her face."

"All right. I thank you."

The porter returned to his lodge. Mme. Zelie broke the seal. The
first envelope contained another, upon which she spelt, for she did
not read very fluently, "To be handed to M. Vincent."

"Some one knows that he is hiding here," she said in a tone of utter
surprise. "Who can it be?"

"Who? Why, the woman whose reputation M. Favoral was so anxious to
spare when he put you in the Rue du Cirque house."

There was nothing that irritated the young woman so mu