A minute later, after opening the gate, the deputy returned with a man
whose head was buried in an enormous fur collar and showed him into his
study.

Lupin had taken his precautions in view of any such contingency. As the
windows of the study and those of his bedroom, both of which were at the
back of the house, overlooked the garden, he fastened a rope-ladder to
his balcony, unrolled it softly and let himself down by it until it was
level with the top of the study windows.

These windows were closed by shutters; but, as they were bowed, there
remained a semi-circular space at the top; and Lupin, though he could
not hear, was able to see all that went on inside.

He then realized that the person whom he had taken for a man was a woman:
a woman who was still young, though her dark hair was mingled with gray;
a tall woman, elegantly but quite unobtrusively dressed, whose handsome
features bore the expression of weariness and melancholy which long
suffering gives.

"Where the deuce have I seen her before?" Lupin asked himself. "For I
certainly know that face, that look, that expression."

She stood leaning against the table, listening impassively to Daubrecq,
who was also standing and who was talking very excitedly. He had his
back turned to Lupin; but Lupin, leaning forward, caught sight of a
glass in which the deputy's image was reflected. And he was startled
to see the strange look in his eyes, the air of fierce and brutal
desire with which Daubrecq was staring at his visitor.