“You're right; I'm a scamp,” exclaimed he. “But it isn't wicked, really, far from it, and that's why one always does it! This woman, Denise, is twenty, and thought it such fun, because I'm only seventeen. Really now! I am quite furious with myself! I could slap my face!” He had taken her hands, and was kissing them and inundating them with tears. “Give me the fifteen francs, and this shall be the last time. I swear to you. Or rather--no!--don't give me anything. I prefer to die. If the husband murders me it will be a good riddance for you.” And as she was crying as well, he was stricken with remorse. “I say that, but of course I'm not sure. Perhaps he doesn't want to kill any one. We'll manage. I promise you that, darling. Good-bye, I'm off.” But a sound of footsteps at the end of the corridor frightened them. She quickly drew him close to the grating, in a dark corner. For an instant they heard nothing but the hissing of a gas-burner near them. Then the footsteps drew nearer; and, on stretching out her neck, she recognised Jouve, the inspector, who had just entered the corridor, with his stiff military walk. Was he there by chance, or had some one at the door warned him of Jean's presence? She was seized with such a fright that she knew not what to do; and she pushed Jean out of the dark spot where they were concealed, and drove him before her, stammering out: “Be off! Be off!” Both galloped along, hearing Jouve behind them, for he also had began to run. They crossed the parcels office again, and arrived at the foot of the stairs leading out into the Rue de la Michodière. “Be off!” repeated Denise, “be off! If I can, I'll send you the fifteen francs all the same.” Jean, bewildered, scampered away. The inspector, who came up panting, out of breath, could only distinguish a corner of his white blouse, and his locks of fair hair flying in the wind. He stood a moment to get his breath, and resume his correct appearance. He had on a brand-new white necktie, the large bow of which shone like a snow-flake. “Well! this is nice behaviour, mademoiselle!” said he, his lips trembling. “Yes, it's nice, very nice! If you think I'm going to stand this sort of thing in the basement, you're mistaken.”