This was the concierge.

Anastasius addressed a remark to him which I did not catch.
"_Au fond de la cour, troisieme a gauche_," said the concierge.
As yet there seemed to be nothing peculiarly perilous about the adventure.

We crossed the cobble-paved courtyard and mounted an evil-smelling stone staircase, blackened here and there by the occasional gas jets.

On the third landing we halted.

Anastasius put up his hand and gripped mine.
"Two strong men together," said he, "need fear nothing." I confess my only fear was lest the confounded revolver which swung insecurely in my hip-pocket might go off of its own accord.