gested, when she broke from his grasp with a sudden turn
and, furious with rage, dealt him a tremendous blow right on the
temple. With a stifled groan, Henri Verbier dropped unconscious to the
floor.

Mlle. Jeanne stared at him for a moment, as if dumbfounded. Then with
quite amazing rapidity the young cashier sprang to the window and
hurriedly closed it. She took down her hat from a hook on the wall, and
put it on with a single gesture, opened a drawer and took out a little
bag, and then, after listening for a minute to make sure that there was
nobody in the passage outside her room, she opened her door, went out,
rapidly turned the key behind her and ran down the stairs.

Two minutes later Mlle. Jeanne smilingly passed the porter on duty and
wished him good night.

"Bye-bye," she said. "I'm going out to get a little fresh air!"

* * * * *

Slowly, as if emerging from some extraordinary dream, Henri Verbier
began to recover from his brief unconsciousness: he could not understand
at first what had happened to him, why he was lying on the floor, why
his head ached so much, or why his blood-shot eyes saw everything
through a mist. He gradually struggled into a sitting posture and looked
around the room.

"Nobody here!" he muttered. Then as if the sound of his own voice had
brought him back to life, he got up and hurried to the door and shook it
furiously. "Locked!" he growled angrily. "And I can call till I'm black
in the face! No one has come upstairs yet. I'm trapped!" He turned
towards the window, with some idea of calling for help, but as he passed
the mirror over the mantelpiece he caught sight of his own reflection
and saw the bruise on his forehead, with a tiny stream of blood
beginning to trickle from a cut in the skin. He went close to the glass
and looked at himself in dismay. "Juve though I am," he murmured, "I've
let myself be knocked out by a woman!" And then Juve, for Juve it was,
cleverly disguised, uttered a sudden oath, clenching his fists and
grinding his teeth in rage. "Confound it all, I'll take my oath that
blow was never dealt by any woman!"

XIII. THERESE'S FUTURE

M. Etienne Rambert was in the smoking-room of the house which he had
purchased a few months previously in the Place Pereire, rue
Eugene-Flachat, smoking and chatting with his old friend Barbey, who
also was his banker. The two had been discussing investments, and the
wealthy merchant had di