to try and catch sight of Vinson on his way down to the
street. He did not doubt that this was the soldier's way of escape.
The agent could not see a soul.

"Got off, by Jove!" He was furious.

He was about to descend, when someone, belonging to the house
probably, began to mount the first flight of stairs in leisurely
fashion, someone who could have no suspicion of the pursuit going on
in the house. Very likely the agent neither intended nor desired to be
recognised for what he was: it was quite probable that he did not wish
to be seen, for, on hearing this someone coming up towards him, he
stopped short in his descent.... It was his turn to hesitate a moment.
Then it suddenly occurred to him that this new-comer might be a
resident on one of the lower floors and so would not come higher. With
this, the agent retraced his steps, crossed the landing on to which
Fandor's flat opened, and began to mount the next flight leading to
the third floor.

This did not suit Vinson: he was on tenterhooks.

"If he keeps coming up," thought the corporal, "much use it will be
for me to retreat upwards! He will nip me on the sixth floor! It's a
dead cert!"

Then he had a brilliant idea. He began to walk on the landing with
heavy steps, imitating someone coming downstairs. Forthwith, the
agent, who was coming up, stopped short. He had no wish to be seen by
the person descending either! The only thing left for him to do was to
take refuge in the journalist's flat! Easy enough with his master-key!
He reopened the door, closing it just in time to escape being seen by
the resident coming upstairs.

Vinson, who had not lost a single movement of the agent's, gave a sigh
of satisfaction. He had perfectly understood the why and wherefore of
his pursuer's hesitations; he seemed now in high good-humour; had he
not caught sight of the new arrival! He was immensely amused!

The person who had just come upstairs was now ringing Fandor's bell.
Not getting any answer, he selected a key on his bunch, and it was his
turn to let himself in to the journalist's flat.

As he was closing the door, Corporal Vinson, from the landing above,
gave him an ironical salute.

"I much regret that I am unable to introduce you to each other! But,
by way of return, I thank you for the service you have unwittingly
done me."

The way was open: Vinson rapidly descended, gained the street, hailed
a cab.

"To the Eastern Station!"

"I have missed the express,"