Next morning at eleven Ralph left the _Nonchalante_. He lunched in a restaurant in Montmartre, and soon after twelve, strolling down a steep, winding street, he passed in front of a small narrow house with a court-yard in front enclosed by a wall, and next door to a house divided into unfurnished flats. The curtainless windows of the top flat made it quite clear that it was vacant. Forthwith, with his usual quickness, he formed one of those plans, which, directly it was formed, he put into execution almost mechanically. The situation of the house was uncommonly convenient for his purpose; and he was delighted to think that in a very short time he would know something which Josephine did not know and which would enable him to tease her. At the same time he made up his mind, as a loyal partner, to give her the benefit of his discoveries. He strolled up and down with the air of a man who was waiting for someone. Of a sudden, taking advantage of the fact that the janitor of the flats was busy mopping the pavement in front of the house, he slipped behind her back into it, ran up the stairs to the top, forced the door of the empty flat, opened one of the windows which looked down on the roof of the house next door, made sure that no one could see him, and slipped out on to the roof. It was only a few steps to a half-open dormer window. He climbed through it into a garret full of broken furniture, from which one descended to the floor below through a trap-door. He had some difficulty in raising it a little way noiselessly and looked down on to the second-floor landing. There was no ladder. Below, on the first floor, two women were talking. Listening with all his ears he learned that Bridget Rousselin was lunching in her boudoir, and that her servant, apparently the only other person in the house, was dusting her bedroom and dressing-room in the intervals of waiting on her. Then Bridget Rousselin called out: “I’ve finished, Valentine. What a blessing it is that there’s no rehearsal to-day! I’m going back to bed till I have to start for the theater!” This day at home rather upset Ralph’s plans, for he had been expecting to make a thorough search of the house at his ease during her absence at rehearsal. Nevertheless he did not lose patience; he just waited for the luck to turn. Some minutes passed. Bridget was humming some of the music of the new revue. Then the front-door bell rang. “That’s odd, Valentine,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to-day. Go and see who it is.” The maid went downstairs. There came the sound of the opening and shutting of the front door. She came upstairs again and said: “It’s a gentleman from the theater--the manager’s secretary. He brought this letter.” “Thanks. You showed him into the drawing-room?” “Yes.” From the clearness with which he heard her voice Ralph gathered that Bridget had come out on to the first-floor landing. He heard her tear open the envelope.