A thought suddenly came to her.

She would go over and see if the old housekeeper, Margot Patry, had gone to bed.
Here was the solution to the problem, the satisfaction of modesty and propriety.
She crossed the street quickly, hurried round the corner of the house, and was passing the side-window of the shop, when a crack in the shutters caught her eye.

She heard something fall on the floor within.
Could it be that the tailor and M'sieu' were working at so late an hour?
She had an irresistible impulse, and glued her eye to the crack.
But presently she started back with a smothered cry.

There by the great fireplace stood Louis Trudel picking up a red-hot cross with a pair of pincers.

Grasping the iron firmly just below the arms of the cross, the tailor held it up again.