"Nothing! Do you mean that they see nothing remarkable about a lady going out at four o'clock in the morning?" "When Madame Luceval first came here, about four years ago, her manner of living did seem rather peculiar, but people soon ceased to trouble themselves about it; for, as I told you just now, nobody ever sees her, so people forget all about her, though she is wonderfully pretty." "If she is so pretty, she must have a lover, of course," said the stranger, with a sarcastic smile, but as if the words, somehow, burned his tongue. "I have heard persons say that this lady never has a visitor, monsieur." "But when she returns home so late at night, she does not return alone, I fancy." "I cannot say whether any one accompanies her to the house or not, but I do know that no man ever crosses her threshold." "She is really a paragon of virtue, then?" "She certainly seems to be, and I am sure that everybody in the house will tell you the same thing that I do." "Do you know what her resources are? What she lives on, in short?" "I haven't the slightest idea, though it is not at all likely that she lives on her income, monsieur. Rich people don't get up at that hour, especially on a morning like this, when the cold cuts you like a knife, and the clock in the Luxembourg was striking half-past three when I heard the lady leave her room this morning." "It is strange, passing strange! It seems to me I must be dreaming," muttered the gentleman. Then-- "Is that all you know?" he asked aloud. "That is all, monsieur. But I can vouch for it that nobody in the house knows any more." The man with the cigar remained silent and thoughtful for a few minutes, during which he sipped his second glass of absinthe abstractedly, then, throwing a foreign gold coin on the table, he said: "Take out the amount of my bill, and keep one hundred sous for yourself. Your money was very easily earned, it strikes me." "I did not ask you for the money, monsieur, and if you--" "I mean what I say. Pay yourself, and don't talk any more about it." After he had received the change due him the stranger left the café. Almost at the same instant, the lady dressed in mourning came out of the adjoining house, and started down the street in the opposite direction from that which the gentleman had taken. As they passed each other, their eyes met. The man paused for an instant, as if the sight of this woman aroused some vague recollection, then, thinking his memory must have deceived him, he walked on up the street. CHAPTER IX. A STRANGE MEETING. But before the man with the cigar had gone a dozen yards, his first impression reasserted itself so vividly that he turned, almost involuntarily, to take another look at the lady in mourning.