rminate.

"Now," exclaimed Froissart, "I will tell to you, my friend Dawson, the
true _histoire_ of my exploits so tremendous and unapproachable. I
reached the station at Plymouth at ten hours, my spy was upon the
platform. I knew him, for those who had kept him under watch had
informed me of him. I had with me two police officers _en bourgeois_,
what you call plain clothes, and I distributed them with the acumen of
a strategist. It was _un train a couloir_. The spy disposed himself in
a compartment. I placed one of my officers in the same compartment
with him, the other in the compartment _contiguee_ towards the engine,
myself in that _a derriere_. He was thus the meat in our sandwich. If
he passed into the corridor and walked this way or that he was seen by
me or by my man in advance; all his movements while within his own
compartment were supervised every moment. So we travelled. He did
himself well that spy so atrocious. He partook of his _dejeuner_ in
the _buffet du train_, and we all three took our _dejeuner_ there
also. That was the last meal of which I ate before this my supper
here. The journey was without incident, but when he arrived at
Waterloo the trouble began. He was not taking risks, that spy. He knew
not that he was under watch, but he took not risks. He began to
perform a voyage designed to throw any man, except one of the
vigilance and resource of Froissart, completely off his track. I was
not learned in your Metropolitain before this day, but now I know your
Tubes as if a map of them were printed in colours upon my hand. At
Waterloo that spy, so astute, burrowed into the earth and entered a
train of the railway called Bakerloo, in which he journeyed to
Golder's Green. Then he crossed a _quai_ and returned to the town
called Camden. Again he descended, passed through tunnels, and
emerging upon another _quai_ proceeded to Highgate. All the while we
three followed, not close, but so that he never escaped from under our
eyes. At Highgate he turned about and returned to Tottenham Court
Road. Thence he departed by another line to the Bank, and, rising in
and _ascenseur_, emerged upon the pavements of your City. He looked
this way and that, not perceiving us who watched, walked warily to the
Lord Maire's station of the Mansion House, boarded the District
Railway, and did not alight till Wimbledon. It was easy to follow, but
my friend, the billets, the tickets, were _une grande difficulte_. I
solved the pro