“I have seen Madame Leonce,” Mademoiselle Saget at last continued, with a significant expression.

At this the two others became extremely attentive.  Madame Leonce was the doorkeeper of the house where Gavard lived in the Rue de la Cossonnerie.  It was an old house standing back, with its ground floor occupied by an importer of oranges and lemons, who had had the frontage coloured blue as high as the first floor.  Madame Leonce acted as Gavard’s housekeeper, kept the keys of his cupboards and closets, and brought him up tisane when he happened to catch cold.  She was a severe-looking woman, between fifty and sixty years of age, and spoke slowly, but at endless length.  Mademoiselle Saget, who went to drink coffee with her every Wednesday evening, had cultivated her friendship more closely than ever since the poultry dealer had gone to lodge in the house.  They would talk about the worthy man for hours at a time.  They both professed the greatest affection for him, and a keen desire to ensure his comfort and happiness.

“Yes, I have seen Madame Leonce,” repeated the old maid.  “We had a cup of coffee together last night.  She was greatly worried.  It seems that Monsieur Gavard never comes home now before one o’clock in the morning.  Last Sunday she took him up some broth, as she thought he looked quite ill.”

“Oh, she knows very well what she’s about,” exclaimed Madame Lecoeur, whom these attentions to Gavard somewhat alarmed.

Mademoiselle Saget felt bound to defend her friend.  “Oh, really, you are quite mistaken,” said she.  “Madame Leonce is much above her position; she is quite a lady.  If she wanted to enrich herself at Monsieur Gavard’s expense, she might easily have done so long ago.  It seems that he leaves everything lying about in the most careless fashion.  It’s about that, indeed, that I want to speak to you.  But you’ll not repeat anything I say, will you?  I am telling it you in strict confidence.”

Both the others swore that they would never breathe a word of what they might hear; and they craned out their necks with eager curiosity, whilst the old maid solemnly resumed:  “Well, then, Monsieur Gavard has been behaving very strangely of late.  He has been buying firearms—­a great big pistol—­one of those which revolve, you know.  Madame Leonce says that things are awful, for this pistol is always lying about on the table or the mantelpiece; and she daren’t dust anywhere near it.  But that isn’t all.  His money—­”

“His money!” echoed Madame Lecoeur, with blazing cheeks.

“Well, he’s disposed of all his stocks and shares.  He’s sold everything, and keeps a great heap of gold in a cupboard.”

“A heap of gold!” exclaimed La Sarriette in ecstasy.

“Yes, a great heap of gold.  It covers a whole shelf, and is quite dazzling.  Madame Leonce told me that one morning Gavard opened the cupboard in her presence, and that the money quite blinded her, it shone so.”