It was long before I caught sight of my old point of observation in the neighboring corridor. The room was small, and was covered with singular ancient hangings, with a concealed door, which the concierge opened into a charming little cabinet. How many more concealed doors there might have been I do not know. I put my head out the window, and looked down in search of the strange casement; it was not below. Then I looked to one side--there was the long window with a striped curtain. I looked to the other side--another long window. I looked up--there at length it was, over my left shoulder. I could see plainly the yellow placard, and heard it flapping the casement. I asked the concierge if he had no rooms above. "_Oui, monsieur_--a single one; but it is too high for monsieur." "Let me see," said I--and we mounted a miserably dim staircase. There were three doors; the concierge opened the nearest to the landing. "_La voici, monsieur._" It was a sad little affair, and looked out by just such a loop-hole as was the object of my curiosity, upon a court I did not know. "It will never do," said I, as I came out of the room. "But what is here?" continued I, brushing up to the next door. The concierge caught me by the arm, and drew me back. Then he raised himself forward on tip-toe, and whispered, "_C'nt le Monsieur Very._" I knew from its position it must have been the little casement which looked upon the corridor. There was another door opposite; I brushed up to this, and was again drawn back by the concierge. "Who is here?" said I. "_La Mademoiselle Marie_," said the concierge, and put his finger on his lip. "Is she young?" said I, following the concierge down the stairway. "_Oui, monsieur._" "And pretty?" "_Oui, monsieur._" "I have never seen her," said I. "_Ma foi_, that is not strange, monsieur." "And she has been here--?" "A month." "Perhaps she is rich," said I. "_Mon Dieu!_" said the concierge, turning round to look at me, "and live in such a chamber?" "But she dresses richly," said I. "_Eh bien!_ you have seen her, then!" exclaimed briskly the little concierge. By this time we were in the court again. My search had only stimulated my curiosity tenfold more. I half fancied the concierge began to suspect my inquiries. Yet I determined to venture a single further one. It was just as I was carelessly leaving the court--"_Mais_, _la mademoiselle_, is, perhaps, the daughter of Monsieur Very, eh, monsieur?" "_Ma foi_, I cannot tell you, monsieur," said the little concierge--and he closed his door. I told the abbe of my search. He smiled, and shook his head. I described to him the person of Monsieur Very, and told him he must keep his eye upon him, and, if possible, clear up the strange mystery of the window in the court. The abbe shook his finger doubtingly, yet gave me a half promise.