do hereafter.
I will send up my name now, and when I am admitted you may follow to
your own small room. Is that espionage? I do not very greatly care
myself, for I shall warn her from the first that I shall faithfully
report every spoken word so far as I can remember it.'

'I will come,' said Paul. 'I have the right And the more I know the
better I can use it.'

Laurent twirled the milled button of the call-bell which stood upon the
desk.

'My respects to Madame Armstrong,' he said, when the landlady's
middle-aged daughter came in and smoothed her apron as a sign of respect
to Monsieur le Medecin. 'I am a few moments late, but I am here to keep
my appointment.'

Out went Mademoiselle Adele, and her slippered footsteps faded up the
staircase. There was a sound of knocking, a conversation inaudible to
the two who strained their ears to listen, and then mademoiselle was
back again.

Madame was _malade--bien malade_--would beg Monsieur le Medecin to
excuse her.

'Then I will try,' said Laurent 'I have your authority?'

'Absolutely,' said Paul, and the doctor went creaking up the stairs in
his heavy, country-made boots.

Paul sat alone again and listened with his heart in his ears.

A series of raps sounded upon the door above, at first quiet and
persuasive, and then increasing in intensity. There came a faint sound
of protesting inquiry, and in answer:

'Dr. Laurent, s'il vous plait, madame.'

There was another protest, and Laurent spoke again:

'But I am here by appointment, madame, and I cannot afford to waste my
time.'

And just here a curious and rather embarrassing thing happened, for the
doctor, laying a nervous hand upon the door, found it suddenly opened to
him with no symptom of resistance.

'A thousand pardons!' he exclaimed. 'Pray tell me when you are ready.'

Annette was at the door like a wild cat, but the square-built toe of
Laurent's foot was between it and the jamb. Paul raced up the stairs
in his stocking-feet, his boots in his hand. This was not a time for
delicacies of sentiment He wished to save Annette. He wished even more
to save himself from the misery of a lifelong degradation. He darted
into his own room whilst Laurent was still standing like a statue at the
door of the adjoining chamber, but reached it barely in time, for on a
sudden the door of Annette's apartment was thrown open, and a voice of
imperious sarcasm demanded to know to what Madame Armstrong was indebted
for this