And then that rare gift of intuition which had always been Paul's great aid in times of trouble told him that this dignified and daintily-walking stranger was in some manner connected with Mademoiselle Vseslavitch's presence at the _Hotel de la Republique_. So certain of this was he that at once he took the precaution of drawing further back into the _cafe_, where he could sit in the shadows and watch the passage of the stranger without arousing any interest himself. Twice the black-bearded man walked up the street, glancing sharply at the _Republique_, and twice he walked back with the same meditative and dilatory air. Then he turned the corner and disappeared. The proprietor of the inn busied himself about the _cafe_, and, seeming curious about the visitor's long sojourn, Paul ordered a further supply of the chicory-like coffee. It was not long before his patience was rewarded. There was some bustle about the door of the inn, and then he saw the fat landlady bowing and scraping on the white doorstep, and out of the shadows into the sunshine stepped the girl he had come to find. Dressed all in black and thickly veiled, Mademoiselle Vseslavitch came quickly out of the doorway and walked down the street. Paul, who had previously taken the precaution to settle his score, immediately rose and walked after her. The street was so narrow and there were so many people about that he had to follow pretty closely in order to avoid losing her. He noted with some surprise that she walked straight ahead, as though with studied purpose, never faltering and never so much as glancing to the right or to the left. Down the hill they went and so into the space about the cathedral, where busy women had set out their wares--poultry, pottery, vegetables and the like. More than one head was turned to note the quick, silent passage of Mademoiselle Vseslavitch. Hers, indeed, was a physique which could not have escaped notice, no matter what its surroundings. On the market-square, having a clearer view before him, Paul slackened his pace and allowed the distance to increase between them. Still the beautiful Russian lady walked straight ahead, as one who follows an oft-trodden path and knows full well whither that path leads. She moved up the cathedral steps, and as she did so Paul saw approaching the sombre figure of the black-bearded man whose presence in the little street by the _Hotel de la Republique_ had aroused his interest earlier in the morning. But though their steps were evidently leading them to the same spot, neither the black-bearded man nor Mademoiselle Vseslavitch made the least sign that either was aware of the other's presence. The girl passed into the cathedral, the man following closely on her heels. In fear of losing sight of them Paul almost ran across the square and darted up the cathedral steps. But for all his speed his feet fell silently, so that neither the girl nor the man who followed her, heard. CHAPTER IX