Glozel had said that behind the front window on the third floor was where the sick woman lived.

He had not long to wait.

The setting sun shining full on the window had roused the bird, and he began to pour out a flood of delicious melody which flowed on and on, causing the people in the street to stay their steps and look up.

Jean Jacques' face, as he listened, had something very like a smile.

There was that in the smile belonging to the old pride, which in days gone by had made him say when he looked at his domains at the Manor Cartier--his houses, his mills, his store, his buildings and his lands--"It is all mine.