"Fifty years of age at the very least, and a very ordinary person." "And after her interview with the countess?" "She was taken back to her home in madame's carriage." "And you say she has never been at the Hotel de Beaumesnil since?" "No, M. le marquis." After remaining silent for some time, the hunchback turned to Madame Dupont, and asked: "What did you say this woman's name was?" "Madame Barbancon." The hunchback wrote down the name in his note-book, then asked: "And she lives where?" "In the Batignolles." "The street and number, if you please." "I do not know, M. le marquis. I only remember that the footman told us that the house where she lived was in a very quiet street, and that there was a garden, into which one could look through a small latticed gate." The hunchback, after jotting down these items in his note-book, said: "I thank you very much for this information, though it may be of little or no assistance to me in my search. If you should at any time recall other facts which you think may be of service, I hope you will notify me at once." "I will not fail to do so, M. le marquis." M. de Maillefort, having rewarded Madame Dupont handsomely, called a cab and ordered the coachman to drive him to the Batignolles. After two hours of persistent inquiry and assiduous search the marquis at last discovered Commander Bernard's house, where he found only Madame Barbancon at home. Olivier had left Paris several days before in company with his master mason, and the veteran had just gone out for his daily walk. The housekeeper on opening the door was so unpleasantly impressed by the visitor's deformity, that, instead of inviting him in, she remained standing upon the threshold, thus barring M. de Maillefort's passage. That gentleman, noting the unfavourable impression he was making upon the housekeeper, bowed very politely, and said: "Have I the honour of speaking to Madame Barbancon?" "Yes, monsieur; and what do you want of Madame Barbancon?" "I am desirous that you should grant me the honour of a few minutes' conversation." "And why, monsieur?" demanded the housekeeper, eyeing the stranger distrustfully. "I wish to confer with you, madame, on a very important matter." "But I do not even know you." "I have the advantage of knowing you, though only by name, it is true." "A fine story that! I, too, know the Grand Turk by name." "My dear Madame Barbancon, will you permit me to say that we could talk very much more at our ease inside, than out here on the doorstep." "I only care to be at ease with persons I like, monsieur," retorted the housekeeper, tartly. "I can understand your distrust, my dear madame," replied the marquis, concealing his impatience, "so I will vouch for myself by a name that is not entirely unknown to you." "What name is that?" "That of Madame la Comtesse de Beaumesnil." "Do you come at her request, monsieur?" asked the housekeeper, quickly.