"I have an appointment with Madame and Mademoiselle Steno, who are awaiting me." "Monsieur's orders are strict," replied the servant.
Accustomed, as are all servants entrusted with the defence of an artist's work, to a certain rigor of orders, he yet hesitated, in the face of the untruth which Gorka had invented on the spur of the moment, and he was about to yield to his importunity when some one appeared on the staircase of the hall.

That some one was none other than Florent Chapron.

Chance decreed that the latter should send for a carriage in which to go to lunch, and that the carriage should be late.

At the sound of wheels stopping at the door, he looked out of one of the windows of his apartment, which faced the street.

He saw Gorka alight.