Blakeney's former lodging was the one place that Armand would know of to which he could send a message to his chief, if he wanted to do so.

Of course, the unfortunate young man could not have known until just now that Percy would come back to Paris, but he might guess it, or wish it, or only vaguely hope for it; he might want to send a message, he might long to communicate with his brother-in-law, and, perhaps, feel sure that the latter would not leave him in the lurch.
With that thought in his mind, Sir Percy was not likely to give up the attempt to ascertain for himself whether Armand had tried to communicate with him or not.

As for spies--well, he had dodged some of them often enough in his time--the risks that he ran to-night were no worse than the ones to which he had so successfully run counter in the Temple yesterday.
Still keeping up the slouchy gait peculiar to the out-at-elbows working man of the day, hugging the houses as he walked along the streets, Blakeney made slow progress across the city.

But at last he reached the facade of St.Germain l'Auxerrois, and turning sharply to his right he soon came in sight of the house which he had only quitted twenty-four hours ago.
We all know that house--all of us who are familiar with the Paris of those terrible days.

It stands quite detached--a vast quadrangle, facing the Quai de l'Ecole and the river, backing on the Rue St.
Germain l'Auxerrois, and shouldering the Carrefour des Trois Manes.
The porte-cochere, so-called, is but a narrow doorway, and is actually situated in the Rue St.Germain l'Auxerrois.
Blakeney made his way cautiously right round the house; he peered up and down the quay, and his keen eyes tried to pierce the dense gloom that hung at the corners of the Pont Neuf immediately opposite.