"You have only to go down the Rue Notre Dame de
Lorette," he replied, "and on the left-hand side, at the foot of
the hill, you will find the photographer Carjat."
"Thank you."
The grocer stepped to the door to watch her. "That girl's
certainly light-headed," he thought.
Her demeanor was really so extraordinary that it attracted the
attention of the passers-by. She saw this, and slackening her
pace, tried to become more composed. At the spot the grocer had
indicated, she perceived several show frames filled with
photographs hanging on either side of a broad, open gateway, above
which ran the name, "E. Carjat." She went in, and seeing a man
standing at the door of an elegant pavilion on the right-hand side
of a large courtyard, she approached him, and asked for his
employer.
"He is here," replied the man. "Does madame come for a
photograph?"
"Yes."
"Then will madame be so kind as to pass in. She will not be
obliged to wait long. There are only four or five persons before
her."
Four or five persons! How long would she be obliged to wait?--half
an hour--two hours? She had not the slightest idea. But she DID
know that she had not a second to lose, that Madame Leon might
return at any moment, and find the letter missing; and, to crown
all, she remembered now that she had not even locked the drawer
again. "I cannot wait," she said, imperiously.
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