y pulling down an old house.

M. Verduret seemed to be anxious, and was constantly looking around as
if he expected someone.

He soon uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.

At the other end of the vacant space, he saw Cavaillon, who was
bareheaded and running.

He was so excited that he did not even stop to shake hands with Prosper,
but darted up to M. Verduret, and said:

"They have gone, monsieur!"

"How long since?"

"They went about a quarter of an hour ago."

"The deuce they did! Then we have not an instant to lose."

He handed Cavaillon the note he had written some hours before at
Prosper's house.

"Here, send him this, and then return at once to your desk; you might be
missed. It was very imprudent in you to come out without your hat."

Cavaillon ran off as quickly as he had come. Prosper was stupefied.

"What!" he exclaimed. "You know Cavaillon?"

"So it seems," answered M. Verduret with a smile, "but we have no time
to talk; come on, hurry!"

"Where are we gong now?"

"You will soon know; walk fast!"

And he set the example by striding rapidly toward the Rue Lafayette. As
they went along he continued talking more to himself than to Prosper.

"Ah," said he, "it is not by putting both feet in one shoe, that one
wins a race. The track once found, we should never rest an instant.
When the savage discovers the footprints of an enemy, he follows it
persistently, knowing that falling rain or a gust of wind may efface
the footprints at any moment. It is the same with us: the most trifling
incident may destroy the traces we are following up."

M. Verduret suddenly stopped before a door bearing the number 81.

"We are going in here," he said to Prosper; "come."

They went up the steps, and stopped on the second floor, before a door
over which was a large sign, "Fashionable Dressmaker."

A handsome bell-rope hung on the wall, but M. Verduret did not touch it.
He tapped with the ends of his fingers in a peculiar way, and the door
instantly opened as if someone had been watching for his signal on the
other side.

The door was opened by a neatly dressed woman of about forty. She
quietly ushered M. Verduret and Prosper into a neat dining-room with
several doors opening into it.

This woman bowed humbly to M. Verduret, as if he were some superior
being.

He scarcely noticed her salutation, but questioned her with a look. His
look said:

"Well?"

She bowed affirmatively:

"Yes."

"In the