Twice the black-bearded man walked up the street, glancing sharply at the République, and twice he walked back with the same meditative and dilatory air. Then he turned the corner and disappeared. The patron of the inn busied himself about the _café_, and, seemingly curious about the visitor's long sojourn, Westerham ordered a further supply of the chicory-like coffee. As the morning wore on so the sunshine became stronger, till the cobbles in the little streets shone hard and bright in the glare. At ten Westerham's glance was attracted by some bustle about the door of the inn, and he saw the fat landlady bowing and scraping on the white doorstep, and then out of the shadows into the sunshine came the girl he had come to find. Dressed all in black and thickly veiled, Lady Kathleen came quickly out of the doorway and walked down the street. Westerham, who had taken the precaution to previously 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 Kathleen pretty closely in order to avoid losing her. He noted with some surprise that she walked straight ahead, as though of prearranged purpose, never faltering and never so much as glancing to the right or to the left. He followed her down the hill, and so into the space about the cathedral, where busy women were setting out their wares—poultry, pottery, vegetables and the like. More than one head was turned to note the quick, silent passage of Lady Kathleen. 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, Westerham slackened his pace and allowed Lady Kathleen to increase the distance between them. Still she 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 Westerham saw approaching the sombre figure of the black-bearded man whose presence in the little street by the Hôtel de la République 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 Lady Kathleen made the least sign. The girl passed into the cathedral, the man following closely on her heels. In fear of losing sight of them Westerham 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 now walked by her side, heard his quick pursuit. Once in the cathedral, Westerham paused to accustom his eyes to the dimness of the light. Far up the nave he could see the man and the girl walking side by side. Then they turned from the nave into the north aisle and made their way thence into one of the dark recesses of a side chapel. As he watched them vanish into the shadows Westerham paused.