with a smile of incredulity.

"Yes, petite."

He puffed continuous rings towards the ceiling, wondering whether he
had better explain.

Presently came a tap at the door. The girl hastened to answer it,
while Jean refilled his pipe thoughtfully. When she came back she was
more excited. She whispered,--

"Monsieur Benoit, le concierge, he wants to see you,--he must let them
in!"

"Well, let them in!" exclaimed the young man.

He had thought of Madeleine, chiefly, and the effect of his arrest
upon her. A hearing must inevitably lead to her exposure, if not to
his. But it was useless to endeavor to escape. He felt that he was
trapped. Being in that fix, he may as well face the music.

"But he wants to see you personally," said the girl.

Jean went to the door, where the saturnine Benoit stood with his
flaring candle. The man cautiously closed the inner vestibule door.

"S-sh! It is a souriciere, monsieur, as I suspected when you came in
with that little she-devil! The agents were at your heels. Now,
Monsieur Lerouge, do you wish to escape or do you----"

"I intend to remain right here. There is no reason that I should
become a fugitive."

"As you please, monsieur," replied the concierge, with an expressive
shrug. And the clack of his sabots was soon heard on the stone stair.

"Funny," said Jean, re-entering, "but he takes me for Lerouge. There
is some sort of understanding between them. He would have aided me to
escape."

"And why not have accepted, monsieur?" asked Mlle. Fouchette.

"I would rather be a prisoner as Jean Marot than escape as Henri
Lerouge," replied the young man.

"Anyhow," muttered the girl, "perhaps the police have made the same
mistake."

"I'm afraid not," said Jean.

Mlle. Fouchette regarded the young man admiringly from the corner of
her eye. He was so calm and resolute. He had resumed the easy-chair
and pipe.

Mlle. Fouchette was not able to veil her feelings under this cloak of
indifference. Her highly nervous organization was sensibly disturbed.
One might have easily presumed that she was in question instead of
Jean Marot. She had hastily cleared the little table and replaced the
lamp, when her unwelcome visitors announced themselves. Mlle.
Fouchette promptly confronted them at the door.

"Well, gentlemen?"

"Mademoiselle, pardon. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I am after the
body of one M. Lerouge."

"Then why don't you go and get him?" snapped the girl.

"Pardieu! tha