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And with these words the person jumped into the room. Maslenes raised his revolver, but at this moment the light fell on the face of the unknown. He uttered a cry of horror. "You here! Ah! leave me, leave me at once, or I swear that I will blow out your brains." "No, sir, you will do nothing of the kind. It would be very inconvenient for you to find yourself with a dead body to get rid of.
There was no reply. "I was mistaken, of course." He returned to his room and there found that the sounds were repeated, and came from the window. He went to it, and looking out saw the outlines of a human being. No robber would have attracted attention thus. Nevertheless Maslenes took down a revolver before he opened the window. "Who is there?" he asked. "Some one who wishes to speak to you!"
He had saved some money, and thought he could teach again. He had not been six months in Lyons before he was known as the good Monsieur Maslenes, and was liked by every one. He led the most regular life that could be imagined, and no one would have suspected that this stout, placid-looking person could be an escaped convict.
Jane sank into a chair on reaching her salon. Maslenes closed the door, and stood motionless and silent until she should see fit to speak. How old was this man? Sixty probably, and yet his face was unwrinkled although his hair was perfectly white. His eyes were gray. He inspired at first sight a certain repulsion.
She had never admitted any artists into her sanctuary until the intendant Maslenes one day offered her five hundred francs for an apartment which she usually rented for three, and no single women. Now Jane Zeld seemed to be a single woman, but Madame closed her eyes to this, and now that she divined a star in the future, Madame Vollard redoubled her courtesy to her lodger.
For ten years, utilizing his acquaintance with foreign languages, Maslenes he had taken this name lived quietly in Munich. Not the smallest indiscretion on his part attracted the attention of the police. He was almost happy with these children about him, his pupils; but he was alone in his so-called home, and all at once a great longing came over him to see France once more.
"You have had a pleasant time, I trust!" she exclaimed. Maslenes gently pushed her back. "Excuse me, Madame, but the young lady is fatigued, and somewhat ill, I fear." "Ill! What can I do for her? I have camphor, lavender water what shall I get?" Maslenes led Jane hastily to her room, saying as he did so: "No, no, it is nothing. To-morrow will do. She only needs rest now."
Her name was inscribed as Jane Zeld, from Russia, and she was accompanied by an intendant named Maslenes. The reporter, armed with this information, proceeded to concoct a legend. She belonged, he said, to a great family in Russia. She had left her home "for reasons which the Journal was not at liberty to reveal."
Sanselme, for he it was, uttered an angry exclamation: "And you, Benedetto, are still the same scoundrel that you were!" The two men started to their feet, looking at each other as they had looked when Fate and their crimes first brought them together. Yes, it was Sanselme, who had simply changed the letters in his name and become Maslenes, who now spoke to his former associate with such contempt.
"Now listen to me," said Maslenes. "Why are you here? Go your way, and let me go mine. I am doing my best to repair the evil that I have committed in my life. I do not interfere with you, and I only ask that you shall leave me alone. You call yourself Fagiano, and my name is Maslenes. Now, go." The other sneered: "You have become very haughty, convict Sanselme."
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