ooth going ... evidently we are still in the rue de la Pompe, so I
have about a quarter of an hour more of it!"

Fandor examined the tiny cell in which he had been imprisoned of his own
free will.

"Not much to be said for it!" ran his thoughts. "There is scarcely room
to sit ... impossible to stand up or turn around ... nearly dark ... and
precious little air comes in through those wooden shutters!... I
shouldn't think there ever had been an escape from these vans!..."

Fandor smiled broadly.

"Even if I don't succeed, it is worth while making the attempt!... But I
shall succeed--see if I don't!... I settled it in my mind that I was to
leave the cells after this costermonger: he is in front of me, therefore
the cell behind me is empty. It will be deucedly queer if, at Auteuil
police station, they don't put that confounded Jules in it, whom I
intend to interview under the nose of the police!... I shall start
talking to him by tapping on the partition in prisoner's language. The
fellow is pretty sure to be an old offender, so he will know the
system.... If he doesn't, when we get to the Depot, I will push up to
him somehow and get a few words with him.... If the Depot is full, we
shall be stuck into the common cell until morning.... So, I take it as
certain that my interview with this true and faithful servant will come
off, and I shall get to know a good deal about the mystery!..."

As an afterthought, it occurred to Fandor that probably there had never
been such a light-hearted occupant of this cell as he....

"Ah, that's the sound of the trams!... One jolt! Two jolts! Good!... The
rails!... We are crossing rue Mozart! We are going faster--in five
minutes we shall be at the Auteuil police station, and there we can
start our little operations!"

There was one thing that attracted Fandor's attention, which was keenly
on the alert. There was a violent jolt, and he had a distinct impression
that the vehicle turned to the right.

"Why, where the deuce are they taking us?" Fandor asked himself. "To the
boulevard Exelmans station?... We had not reached the end of the rue
Mozart, surely!... Where did we turn then? Rue du Ranelagh?... No, there
is a channel stone at the entrance, and I should have felt it!... Rue de
l'Assomption!... Again no. The roadway is up: I should be knocked about
more than this on my wooden seat. We are going over a perfectly kept
road, which cannot have much traffic!... Why, of course, it is rue