On the previous night they sat up until the arrival of the Paris express at 11.05, burning to learn what had become of the affair with the sub-prefect. But they were unable to read anything in the attitude of the Roubauds, who returned with faces wearing their everyday expression; and in vain did they listen until midnight: not a sound came from the rooms occupied by their neighbours, who must have gone to bed at once, and fallen fast asleep. Their journey could certainly not have been attended with a good result, otherwise Séverine would not have risen at such an early hour. The cashier having inquired how she looked, his wife had been at pains to describe her: very stiff, very pale, with her great blue eyes appearing so bright against her black hair; she was standing quite still, and had the aspect of a somnambulist. But they would find out all about it in the course of the day. Down below, Roubaud found his colleague Moulin, who had been on duty during the night; and as he took over the service, Moulin walked along with him for a minute or two, posting him up in the few small events that had occurred since the previous evening: some vagrants had been surprised as they were effecting an entrance into the cloakroom; three porters had been reprimanded for indiscipline; a coupling-hook had just broken while the Montivilliers train was being made-up. Roubaud listened in silence, and with calm countenance. He was only a trifle pale, due no doubt to a remainder of fatigue, which was also visible in his heavy eyes. When his colleague ceased speaking, he still seemed to look at him inquiringly, as if he expected something more. But what he had heard was all, and he bent his head, gazing for an instant on the ground. As the two men walked along the platform they reached the end of the corrugated iron roofing, and on the right stood a coach-house where the carriages in constant use remained, such as came in one day, and served to make up the trains on the morrow. Roubaud raised his head, and was looking fixedly at a first-class carriage with a coupé, bearing the No. 293, which as it happened a gas-lamp lit up with its vacillating glimmer, when Moulin remarked: "Ah! I forgot----" The pale face of the other coloured, and he was unable to restrain a slight movement. "I forgot," repeated Moulin; "that carriage must not leave. Do not put it on the 6.40 express this morning." A short silence ensued before Roubaud, in a very natural voice said: "Indeed! Why is that?" "Because," replied Moulin, "a coupé has been booked for the express of this evening. We are not sure that one will come in during the day, so we may just as well keep this one." "Certainly," replied Roubaud, staring at his colleague. But he was absorbed by another thought, and all at once, flying into a rage, he exclaimed: "It's disgusting! Just see how those fellows do the cleaning! That carriage looks as if it had the accumulated dust of a week on it."