Hyde mounted the stairs and knocked at the door indicated.

“Well?” asked an old woman who opened it.

“The patron—­is he here?  I must speak to him.”

“Who are you?  What brings you?” The old woman still held the door ajar, and denied him admission.

“I have news from the Crimea—­important news—­from the Maltese.”

“Joe?” asked the old woman, still suspicious.

Hyde nodded, and said sharply—­

“Be quick!  The patron must know at once.  You will have to answer for this delay.”

“He is absent—­come again to-morrow,” replied the old woman, sulkily.

“It will be worse for him—­for all of us—­if he does not see me at once.”

“I tell you he is absent.  You must come again;” and with that the woman shut the door in his face.

What was Hyde to do now?  Watch outside?  That would hardly be safe.  The police, he knew, were on the look-out already, and they would be suspicious of any one engaged in the same game.

There was nothing for it but to take the old woman’s reply for truth and wait till the following day.  Hyde knew his Paris well enough to find a third-class hotel or lodging-house suitable for such a man as he now seemed, and here, after wandering through the streets for hours, dining at a low restaurant and visiting the gallery of a theatre, he sought and easily obtained a bed.

Next day he returned to the Faubourg St. Martin and was met with the same answer.  The patron was still absent.

Hyde was beginning to despair; but he resolved to wait one more day, intending, if still unsuccessful, to surrender the business to other hands.

But on the third day he was admitted.

“The patron will see you,” said the old woman, as she led him into a small but well-lighted room communicating with another, into which she passed, locking the door behind her.

They kept him waiting ten minutes or more, during which he had an uncomfortable feeling he was being watched, although he could not tell exactly how or from where.

There was really a small eye-hole in the wall opposite, of the kind called in French a “Judas,” and such as is used in prisons to observe the inmates of the cells.  Through this, Hyde had been subjected to a long and patient examination.

It was apparently satisfactory; for presently the inner door was unlocked, and the old woman returned, followed by a man whom we have seen before.

It was Mr. Hobson in person; Ledantec really, as Hyde immediately saw, in spite of the smug, smooth exterior, the British-cut whiskers, and the unmistakable British garb.

“Here is the patron,” said the old woman; “tell him what you have to say.”

Hyde, addressing himself to Mr. Hobson, began his story in the most perfect French he could command.  He spoke the language well, and had no reason to fear that his accent would betray him.