Master Chevassat nearly dropped his glass.

"What? The police in the house? Well, good-by, then, to our lodgers; we
are lost. Why did that stupid girl want to die, I wonder! But no doubt
you are mistaken, my dear sir."

"No, I am not. But you go too fast. They will simply ask you who that
girl is, how she supports herself, and where she lived before she came
here."

"That is exactly what I cannot tell."

The dealer in old clothes seemed to be amazed; he frowned and said,--

"Halloo! that makes matters worse. How came it about that Miss Henrietta
had rooms in your house?"

The concierge was evidently ill at ease; something was troubling him
sorely.

"Oh! that is as clear as sunlight," he replied; "and, if you wish it,
I'll tell you the story; you will see there is no harm done."

"Well, let us hear."

"Well, then, it was about a year ago this very day, when a gentleman
came in, well dressed, an eyeglass stuck in his eye, impudent like a
hangman's assistant, in fact a thoroughly fashionable young man. He said
he had seen the notice that there was a room for rent up stairs, and