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“Whom did she ask for?”

“M. Michel Beaumont,” replied the servant.

“Queer. And why has she called?”

“All she said was that it was about the Enghien business... So I thought that...”

“What! The Enghien business! Then she knows that I am mixed up in that business... She knows that, by applying here...”

“I could not get anything out of her, but I thought, all the same, that I had better let her in.”

“Quite right. Where is she?”

“In the drawing-room. I’ve put on the lights.”

Lupin walked briskly across the hall and opened the door of the drawing-room:

“What are you talking about?” he said, to his man. “There’s no one here.”

“No one here?” said Achille, running up.

And the room, in fact, was empty.

“Well, on my word, this takes the cake!” cried the servant. “It wasn’t twenty minutes ago that I came and had a look, to make sure. She was sitting over there. And there’s nothing wrong with my eyesight, you know.”

“Look here, look here,” said Lupin, irritably. “Where were you while the woman was waiting?”