The Black Pearl
A violent ringing of the bell awakened the concierge of number nine, avenue Hoche. She pulled the doorstring, grumbling:
“I thought everybody was in. It must be three o’clock!”
“Perhaps it is someone for the doctor,” muttered her husband.
“Third floor, left. But the doctor won’t go out at night.”
“He must go tonight.”
The visitor entered the vestibule, ascended to the first floor, the second, the third, and, without stopping at the doctor’s door, he continued to the fifth floor. There, he tried two keys. One of them fitted the lock.