I took from my desk the ring that came from poor Annette; on it I rested all my hopes. I pressed Frédérique's hand, and we started. We took the first cab we saw, and I said to the driver: "Montmartre, the public square. Take us there quickly, and you shall have five francs an hour." We went like the wind, but the road seemed very long. At last we reached the square. I told the cabman to stop, and we all three alighted and turned to the left. "That must be the place!" cried Ballangier, pointing to a small house of poor aspect, with a narrow green door. "Stay in the square," I said to him, "and keep your eye on the house. If anyone comes out, run after him. You and I, Balloquet, will go in." I knocked at the little green door; it was opened and we entered a narrow passageway, at the end of which was a small yard. A shrewish-looking woman, who was sitting in a dark corner, called out to us: "Who do you want?" "Monsieur Saint-Germain." "He ain't in; he went away this morning, and won't be back to-day." "Monsieur Bouqueton must be here, then, and what we have to say to his friend Saint-Germain, we can say to him just as well." The woman looked at us distrustfully, then said: "Yes, Monsieur Bouqueton's here--since this morning. Wait, while I go and call him. Go into that room; I'll tell him some friends of Monsieur Saint-Germain want to see him." We entered a room on the ground floor, taking care not to go near the window, so that we might not be seen from outside. After a few minutes, we heard heavy steps coming downstairs; they stopped at the door of the room in which we were, and Monsieur Dauberny appeared. He gazed at us for several seconds in amazement; but, on scrutinizing me more closely, he seemed disturbed. However, he tried to recover himself, and said: "What can I do for you, messieurs?" "We have come in search of Mignonne Landernoy, a young woman whom you caused to be kidnapped yesterday morning as she was coming away from Père-Lachaise." Dauberny could not control a sudden start; but he affected an air of tranquillity, and replied: "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, monsieur. I suppose that you mistake me for somebody else." "No, I know you quite well. Search your memory. You saw me once at your house in Paris; you are Monsieur Dauberny; Bouqueton is the name you assume in your love intrigues! I know you perfectly, monsieur, as you see!" Frédérique's husband looked at me for some instants, then assumed a mocking expression, and rejoined: "And you are my wife's lover--the man who lives with her at Fontenay-sous-Bois. You see that I know you too." "If your wife has a liaison in which her heart is engaged, monsieur, your abominable conduct makes her only too excusable." "Monsieur!" "Let us have done with this! Where is Mignonne? Give that young woman up to us; we will not leave this house without her." "I don't know what you mean, and I order you to leave the house."