They heard the sound of the servant’s footsteps on the stairs to the first floor and then on the landing. He entered. “Did you do as I told you, Valentine?” “Yes, sir.” “There were letters—letters to be signed?” “No, sir.” “That’s odd. But my courrier?” “He had just been transferred to M. Marescal.” “But what right? Did Marescal dare?—Was Marescal there?” cried Bregeac in a tone of sudden anxiety. “No, sir. He came and went away at once.” “Came away? At half-past two? Then it must be some important affair.” “Yes, sir.” “Did you try to find out what it was?” “Yes; but they did not know anything at the office.” “Was he alone?” “No: he went with Labonce, Tony, and Sauvinoux.” “With Labonce and Tony?” cried Bregeac. “Well, in that case it’s a matter of an arrest! Why wasn’t I informed of it? What can be happening?” Valentine went away. Bregeac once more began to walk up and down the room. He said thoughtfully: “Tony, Marescal’s right-hand man,—Labonce, one of his favorites—and without informing me.” He fell silent for a minute or two and paced up and down. Aurelie watched him anxiously. Then he went to one of the windows, opened one of the shutters a few inches, and looked out. “But they’re there at—the end of the street! They’re keeping watch!” “Who?” “Both of them, Marescal’s assistants—Tony and Labonce.” “Well?” she said in a faint voice. “Those are the two he always employs in important matters. It was with them he was working this morning.” “And they’re there?” said Aurelie. “They’re there. I’ve seen them.” “And is Marescal coming?” “Of course he is. You heard what Valentine said,” said Bregeac impatiently. “He’s c-c-c-oming—he’s c-c-c-oming,” she stammered. “What’s the matter?” asked Bregeac, astonished that she should be so disturbed. “Nothing,” she said, again in control of herself. “One gets frightened in spite of one’s self. But there’s no real reason.” Bregeac reflected. He too was hard put to it to keep his nerves under control. Then he said: “Of course there’s no reason. One generally gets excited for perfectly puerile reasons. I’ll go and question them and I’m sure that everything will be cleared up. Quite sure. For after all it looks rather as if they were watching the house opposite than us.” Aurelie raised her head sharply and said quickly: “What house?” “I told you about the business—the man they arrested this morning, just before noon. If you’d only seen Marescal when he left his office at eleven. I met him as he left it. He was wearing an expression of immense satisfaction and simply ferocious hate. That’s what bothers me. One can only feel such hate as that in one’s life for some one person. And it is I whom he hates like that, or rather the two of us. So I thought it was we who were threatened.” Aurelie rose to her feet, paler than ever. “What’s that you say? An arrest in the house opposite?” she cried.