"Oh, no! He spotted you." "Well, one thing's certain, and that is that Paul isn't with Bastringuette, and that I was wrong to think they were together." Sans-Cravate seemed less distressed; it was evident that his jealousy had partly disappeared. But Jean Ficelle rejoined, with a shrug: "They ain't together now--that's true. But what is there to prove that they didn't separate just now? Perhaps Bastringuette ain't so far away. I have my ideas. See, I'll give you a comparison: it's like the way a cat insists on staying in a garret because he smells mice there; it's no use to try to drive him out----" "_Sacrédié!_ Jean Ficelle, you tire me with your comparisons! Come, let's go and see the _Francs-Lapins_; we are going to spree it a bit, you know. I'm all ready." Instead of complying, Jean Ficelle pointed to a house with a passage, on the left, and said: "That's where our fine gentleman came from; and perhaps we might be able to find out where he'd been." "You think Paul came out of that house, you say?" said Sans-Cravate, walking in that direction. "Yes, yes, I'm sure of it. I was looking straight ahead, and there was no one coming. And all of a sudden someone came out of that passage, and it was him." Sans-Cravate stopped in front of the house, and finally decided to enter the passageway, which was rather dark, with no sign of a concierge's quarters. Jean Ficelle followed his comrade, and, after examining the passage for a moment, they walked toward a dark, winding staircase at the rear. "Shall we go up?" said Jean Ficelle. "Where shall we go? Who shall we ask for?" "_Dame!_ I don't know. But we can act as if we'd made a mistake. We'll ask for a midwife for a woman who's in a great hurry for one. How's that for a game! Or we can ask if Monsieur Paul, ex-messenger, lives in the house." "No, no!" cried Sans-Cravate, going back into the street. "After all, Paul was right when he said we ought not to play the spy on him, that he's free to do what he pleases. I have a feeling that it's a mean business to try to find out people's secrets. I don't like the job at all. Let's go." Jean Ficelle said no more, but followed his comrade, in evident ill humor, turning his head every minute to look at the house they had just left. Suddenly he seized Sans-Cravate, who was a little ahead of him, by the arm, and exclaimed in a shrill voice: "Look! there you have Paul's secret--coming out of that passageway. Ah! I'd have bet my life on it!" Sans-Cravate turned, and saw Bastringuette come out of the house they had just left and turn into Rue Barbette. The tall girl walked quite slowly, and stopped for a moment to take out her handkerchief and wipe her eyes, as if she had been crying; then she walked on.