“Yes, that’s the reason,” Marie answered.  “The master wants to see you, and it’s Saturday morning.”

Jeanne had forgotten the day, and the information, coupled with the message, startled her for a moment.

“There is no need to be afraid, Marie,” she said quietly.

“I know you’re brave, you couldn’t be anything else,” returned the girl, “but I know what Saturday morning in that study means.  Mademoiselle, I’ll do anything I can.  No one takes any notice of me.  I can slip out of the house almost any time I like.”

“Thank you, Marie.  I will not forget.”

In spite of the servant girl’s pessimistic view, Jeanne had little apprehension as she went to the doctor’s study, and Legrand’s method of receiving her was reassuring.  He rose, bowed low and placed a chair for her.  He spoke of the pleasant crispness in the air, of the little dance which had taken place in the salon on the previous night.

“Even the Abbe was persuaded to a few steps,” he laughed.  “It was very amusing.”

“I am waiting to hear the business which necessitates my presence here,” said Jeanne.

“Ah, mademoiselle, it is a painful matter; it pains me.  There is no remittance from Monsieur Bruslart this week.  It has always come on Friday night, but this is Saturday morning and it is still not here.”

Jeanne did not answer for a moment.

“Of course there is some mistake,” she said.

“I thought so,” said Legrand.  “It did not trouble me much last night, but this morning—­mademoiselle, I was so surprised that I called on Monsieur Bruslart this morning.  He has left Paris.”

“Gone!”

“Leaving no word behind him, mademoiselle.”

“It is more likely that he has been arrested,” said Jeanne.

“I have inquired.  He has not been arrested, but he would have been had he remained.”

“Are you suggesting that he has run away without a thought for me?”

“Mademoiselle, the most prominent members of my profession have little knowledge of men’s thoughts.  Of the working of Monsieur Bruslart’s mind I know nothing; I only know that he has left Paris without sending money.”

“And the consequence to me?” asked Jeanne.

“That is what pains me,” Legrand answered.  “This house is secure only on certain conditions, a peculiar arrangement in which I have personally little influence.  Some of my guests are ungracious enough to disbelieve this.  When the fees remain unpaid I have no choice in the matter.  My guest is removed elsewhere.”

Jeanne showed not a trace of nervousness or alarm.  The whirl of thoughts and doubts in her brain caused the lines in her face to harden a little, but there was no quiver in her eyes, no tremble in her voice.

“Is the money paid in advance?” she asked.

“Always, mademoiselle; that is one of the conditions.”

“Then it is for the coming week that the money is due?”