ed Madame Olivier.

"A man came here to-night in a carriage. Do you know him?"

Madame Olivier had recognized Montes well enough. How could she have
forgotten him? In the Rue du Doyenne the Brazilian had always slipped
a five-franc piece into her hand as he went out in the morning, rather
too early. If the Baron had applied to Monsieur Olivier, he would
perhaps have learned all he wanted to know. But Olivier was in bed. In
the lower orders the woman is not merely the superior of the man--she
almost always has the upper hand. Madame Olivier had long since made
up her mind as to which side to take in case of a collision between
her two benefactors; she regarded Madame Marneffe as the stronger
power.

"Do I know him?" she repeated. "No, indeed, no. I never saw him
before!"

"What! Did Madame Marneffe's cousin never go to see her when she was
living in the Rue du Doyenne?"

"Oh! Was it her cousin?" cried Madame Olivier. "I dare say he did
come, but I did not know him again. Next time, sir, I will look at
him----"

"He will be coming out," said Hulot, hastily interrupting Madame
Olivier.

"He has left," said Madame Olivier, understanding the situation. "The
carriage is gone."

"Did you see him go?"

"As plainly as I see you. He told his servant to drive to the
Embassy."

This audacious statement wrung a sigh of relief from the Baron; he
took Madame Olivier's hand and squeezed it.

"Thank you, my good Madame Olivier. But that is not all.--Monsieur
Crevel?"

"Monsieur Crevel? What can you mean, sir? I do not understand," said
Madame Olivier.

"Listen to me. He is Madame Marneffe's lover----"

"Impossible, Monsieur le Baron; impossible," said she, clasping her
hands.

"He is Madame Marneffe's lover," the Baron repeated very positively.
"How do they manage it? I don't know; but I mean to know, and you are
to find out. If you can put me on the tracks of this intrigue, your
son is a notary."

"Don't you fret yourself so, Monsieur le Baron," said Madame Olivier.
"Madame cares for you, and for no one but you; her maid knows that for
true, and we say, between her and me, that you are the luckiest man in
this world--for you know what madame is.--Just perfection!

"She gets up at ten every morning; then she breakfasts. Well and good.
After that she takes an hour or so to dress; that carries her on till
two; then she goes for a walk in the Tuileries in the sight of all
men, and she is always in by four to be re