That evening, when he went as
usual to inspect Madame Zephyrine's movements, he was astonished to
find the aperture obscured in an odd manner on the other side, and
still more abashed when the obstacle was suddenly withdrawn and a
titter of laughter reached his ears. Some of the plaster had
evidently betrayed the secret of his spy-hole, and his neighbour
had been returning the compliment in kind. Mr. Scuddamore was
moved to a very acute feeling of annoyance; he condemned Madame
Zephyrine unmercifully; he even blamed himself; but when he found,
next day, that she had taken no means to baulk him of his favourite
pastime, he continued to profit by her carelessness, and gratify
his idle curiosity.
That next day Madame Zephyrine received a long visit from a tall,
loosely-built man of fifty or upwards, whom Silas had not hitherto
seen. His tweed suit and coloured shirt, no less than his shaggy
side-whiskers, identified him as a Britisher, and his dull grey eye
affected Silas with a sense of cold. He kept screwing his mouth
from side to side and round and round during the whole colloquy,
which was carried on in whispers. More than once it seemed to the
young New Englander as if their gestures indicated his own
apartment; but the only thing definite he could gather by the most
scrupulous attention was this remark made by the Englishman in a
somewhat higher key, as if in answer to some reluctance or
opposition.
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