Kendal mounted to Elfrida's _appartement_ in the Rue Porte Royale to verify the intimation of her departure, or happily to forestall its execution the morning after her note reached him.

He found it bare and dusty.

A workman was mending the stove; the concierge stood looking on, with her arms folded above the most striking feature of her personality.

Every vestige of Elfrida was gone, and the tall windows were open, letting the raw February air blow through.

Outside the sunlight lay in squares and triangles on the roofs, and gave the place its finishing touch of characterlessness.