Henri's address?
I have some books of hers," I added carelessly, "and I should wish to send them to her." "No, monsieur," replied Sylvie; "but perhaps Rosalie, the portress, will be able to give it you." Rosalie's cabinet was just at hand; I stepped in and repeated the inquiry.

Rosalie--a smart French grisette--looked up from her work with a knowing smile, precisely the sort of smile I had been so desirous to avoid exciting.

Her answer was prepared; she knew nothing whatever of Mdlle.

Henri's address--had never known it.

Turning from her with impatience--for I believed she lied and was hired to lie--I almost knocked down some one who had been standing at my back; it was the directress.