"Yes. She came to my house on Friday last. Madame Trois, your concierge, had given her my address. The girl said she must see you in your room, and must have an excuse for going there--all for a bit of fun. But Madame Trois told me to-day that it was a picture she wanted, for she gave her fifty francs the day before for trying to get it, and promised her as much more as it might cost if you should consent to sell it. When Madame Trois failed, the girl asked what other woman went to your room, and she sent her to me." "Then she is no niece of yours?" "If I had a niece she would not be running about alone in that way; but the girl said if you should question me I must tell you she is my niece, and give her any name I pleased. As if I did not have enough trouble naming my own children without puzzling over one for her! especially when she gave me but twenty francs, and Madame Trois throwing it in my teeth that she got fifty! I am even with her now;" and she held out her hand for the money with the pose of a malignant Victory. "Is that all?" "All about her, but Madame Trois says there is something wrong, for the house is watched by the police." "Police!" "Yes. Madame Trois is up to their tricks. Her husband that is dead was a policeman, and she says those that don't dress in uniform are the worst." "Madame Trois says a great deal; for instance, she told me she knew nothing about the girl, nor of you either, not even your name," I remarked. "_She_ was paid enough not to tell; besides, she is dreadfully afraid of the police; and no wonder. Such a dance as her husband led her! though I must say she deserved it. We have been friends for years." I saw there was nothing more to gain, so I paid the woman and dismissed her, while my two selves both talked at once, making a distracting duet that nearly set me wild. Here was confirmation of my worst fears. I was under suspicion, for what cause I knew not, but the picture must be in some way connected with it. Had the portrait been stolen, and did its possession implicate me in the theft? Yet who would care to recover so worthless a thing? Should I destroy it and thus end the ravel? No, if innocent why should I fear? and was not this the only connecting link between me and the brown-eyed girl who strangely resembled it? "Come what will, the picture shall be preserved," I exclaimed finally. Nevertheless, my night was restless, and the day following it more so. I went about my business distraught, mixing the distinctions between Alençon and Chantilly, and not having even the poor satisfaction of quarrelling with my confidant, who now kept up a moody silence. I was glad when evening came that I might be free to think, but evening brought a new complication.