“What’s the matter with him?” thought Florent.  “Is he frightened of me, I wonder?”

Some very serious occurrences had taken place that morning at the Quenu-Gradelles’.  Soon after daybreak, Auguste, breathless with excitement, had awakened his mistress to tell her that the police had come to arrest Monsieur Florent.  And he added, with stammering incoherence, that the latter had gone out, and that he must have done so with the intention of escaping.  Lisa, careless of appearances, at once hurried up to her brother-in-law’s room in her dressing-wrapper, and took possession of La Normande’s photograph, after glancing round to see if there was anything lying about that might compromise herself and Quenu.  As she was making her way downstairs again, she met the police agents on the first floor.  The commissary requested her to accompany them to Florent’s room, where, after speaking to her for a moment in a low tone, he installed himself with his men, bidding her open the shop as usual so as to avoid giving the alarm to anyone.  The trap was set.

Lisa’s only worry in the matter was the terrible blow that the arrest would prove to poor Quenu.  She was much afraid that if he learned that the police were in the house, he would spoil everything by his tears; so she made Auguste swear to observe the most rigid silence on the subject.  Then she went back to her room, put on her stays, and concocted some story for the benefit of Quenu, who was still drowsy.  Half an hour later she was standing at the door of the shop with all her usual neatness of appearance, her hair smooth and glossy, and her face glowing rosily.  Auguste was quietly setting out the window.  Quenu came for a moment on to the footway, yawning slightly, and ridding himself of all sleepiness in the fresh morning air.  There was nothing to indicate the drama that was in preparation upstairs.

The commissary himself, however, gave the alarm to the neighbourhood by paying a domiciliary visit to the Mehudins’ abode in the Rue Pirouette.  He was in possession of the most precise information.  In the anonymous letters which had been sent to the Prefecture, all sorts of statements were made respecting Florent’s alleged intrigue with the beautiful Norman.  Perhaps, thought the commissary, he had now taken refuge with her; and so, accompanied by two of his men, he proceeded to knock at the door in the name of the law.  The Mehudins had only just got up.  The old woman opened the door in a fury; but suddenly calmed down and began to smile when she learned the business on hand.  She seated herself and fastened her clothes, while declaring to the officers:  “We are honest folks here, and have nothing to be afraid of.  You can search wherever you like.”

However, as La Normande delayed to open the door of her room, the commissary told his men to break it open.  The young woman was scarcely clad when the others entered, and this unceremonious invasion, which she could not understand, fairly exasperated her.  She flushed crimson from anger rather than from shame, and seemed as though she were about to fly at the officers.  The commissary, at the sight, stepped forward to protect his men, repeating in his cold voice:  “In the name of the law!  In the name of the law!”