Some one has told him that I am here.

Mon Dieu! It is he outside now!" It was bad acting, and I laughed.
"Mademoiselle," I said, "if Monsieur Bartot is your lover, be thankful that you have nothing with which to reproach yourself." I rang the bell.

She looked at me for a moment with eyes filled with a genuine fear.

Obviously she did not understand my attitude.

From my trousers pocket I drew a little revolver, whose settings and mechanism I carefully examined.