It was evident that this man had entered with a key, and like himself. Who had given him that key? What was the meaning of this?

When the old woman came to do the work, at seven o’clock in the morning, Jean Valjean cast a penetrating glance on her, but he did not question her. The good woman appeared as usual.

As she swept up she remarked to him:⁠—

“Possibly Monsieur may have heard someone come in last night?”

At that age, and on that boulevard, eight o’clock in the evening was the dead of the night.

“That is true, by the way,” he replied, in the most natural tone possible. “Who was it?”

“It was a new lodger who has come into the house,” said the old woman.

“And what is his name?”