hen, with marvellous agility, without making a spring for it, with a
quite extraordinary muscular flexibility and power, the stranger leaped
on to the little wall, cleared the gate, and disappeared into the
night....

Jules, with bent head, much moved, terribly anxious, slowly walked back
to the house....

XIII

RUE RAFFET

Maray, second reporter of _La Capitale_, shook hands with Fandor.

"Are you in a good humour, dear boy?"

"So--so...."

"Ah! Well, here is something which will cheer you up, I'm sure!...
Here's a letter from a lady for you.... I found it in my pigeon-hole by
mistake!"

Fandor smiled.

"From a lady?... You must be mistaken!... How do you know it is?"

"By the handwriting, the paper, and so on--I'm not mistaken--am I
ever?..." Laughing, Maray threw down on Fandor's table a small envelope
with a deep black border.

"Yes, it is a letter from a woman," said Fandor, as he picked it up:
"from whom?... Ah,... why yes!..."

With a hasty finger, he tore open the envelope whilst his colleague
withdrew making a joking remark.

"Dear boy, I leave you to this tender missive: I should be annoyed with
myself were I to interrupt your reflections!"

Fandor's friend would have been surprised, if he could have seen the
gloomy expression which the perusal of this so-called love-letter
produced. Jerome had turned to the signature--_Elizabeth Dollon_.

"What does she want with me?" he asked himself. "After the extraordinary
affair of rue du Quatre Septembre, one must suppose that she has arrived
at some conclusion regarding the possible guilt of her brother ... so
long as she does not let her imagination run away with her, and, like
the police, fancy that Jacques Dollon is still in the land of the
living? The position the poor thing is in is a very cruel one!"

Fandor had met Jacques Dollon's young sister repeatedly; and, every
time, he had been more and more troubled by the poor girl's touching
grief, as well as by her pathetic beauty, which had made a great
impression on him.... He began to read her letter.

_"Dear Sir,_

_You have been so good to me in all my troubles, you have shown me
such true sympathy, that I do not hesitate to ask your help once
more._

_Such an extraordinary thing has happened to me which I cannot
account for at all, which, nevertheless, makes me think, more than
ever, that my poor brother is living, innocent, and kept prisoner,