"To do him harm?" he exclaimed. "If it's to do him harm, it's no use asking me any questions. I would rather die by slow tortures than injure that kind M. Siméon." Don Luis assumed a gentler tone: "Do him harm? On the contrary, we are looking for him to do him a service, to save him from a great danger." "A great danger?" cried M. Vacherot. "Oh, I'm not at all surprised! I never saw him in such a state of excitement." "Then he's been here?" "Yes, since midnight." "Is he here now?" "No, he went away again." Patrice made a despairing gesture and asked: "Perhaps he left some one behind?" "No, but he intended to bring some one." "A lady?" M. Vacherot hesitated. "We know," Don Luis resumed, "that Siméon Diodokis was trying to find a place of safety in which to shelter a lady for whom he entertained the deepest respect." "Can you tell me the lady's name?" asked the porter, still on his guard. "Certainly, Mme. Essarès, the widow of the banker to whom Siméon used to act as secretary. Mme. Essarès is a victim of persecution; he is defending her against her enemies; and, as we ourselves want to help the two of them and to take this criminal business in hand, we must insist that you . . ." "Oh, well!" said M. Vacherot, now fully reassured. "I have known Siméon Diodokis for ever so many years. He was very good to me at the time when I was working for an undertaker; he lent me money; he got me my present job; and he used often to come and sit in my lodge and talk about heaps of things. . . ." "Such as relations with Essarès Bey?" asked Don Luis, carelessly. "Or his plans concerning Patrice Belval?" "Heaps of things," said the porter, after a further hesitation. "He is one of the best of men, does a lot of good and used to employ me in distributing his local charity. And just now again he was risking his life for Mme. Essarès." "One more word. Had you seen him since Essarès Bey's death?" "No, it was the first time. He arrived a little before one o'clock. He was out of breath and spoke in a low voice, listening to the sounds of the street outside: 'I've been followed,' said he; 'I've been followed. I could swear it.' 'By whom?' said I. 'You don't know him,' said he. 'He has only one hand, but he wrings your neck for you.' And then he stopped. And then he began again, in a whisper, so that I could hardly hear: 'Listen to me, you're coming with me. We're going to fetch a lady, Mme. Essarès. They want to kill her. I've hidden her all right, but she's fainted: we shall have to carry her. . . . Or no, I'll go alone. I'll manage. But I want to know, is my room still free?' I must tell you, he has a little lodging here, since the day when he too had to hide himself. He used to come to it sometimes and he kept it on in case he might want it, for it's a detached lodging, away from the other tenants." "What did he do after that?" asked Patrice, anxiously. "After that, he went away." "But why isn't he back yet?"