tand it at all."

Don Luis reflected. It seemed to him that he had asked all the necessary
questions. Moreover, a gig drawn by a quick-trotting horse was
approaching the crossroads. There were two others behind it. And the
groups of peasants were now quite near. He must finish the business.

He said to the chauffeur:

"I can see by your face that you intend to talk about me. Don't do that,
my man: it would be foolish of you. Here's a thousand-franc note for
you. Only, if you blab, I'll make you repent it. That's all I have to
say to you."

He turned to Davanne, whose machine was beginning to block the traffic,
and asked:

"Can we start?"

"Whenever you like. Where are we going?"

Paying no attention to the movements of the people coming from every
side, Don Luis unfolded his map of France and spread it out before him.
He experienced a few seconds of anxiety at seeing the complicated tangle
of roads and picturing the infinite number of places to which the villain
might carry Florence. But he pulled himself together. He did not allow
himself to hesitate. He refused even to reflect.

He was determined to find out, and to find out everything, at once,
without clues, without useless consideration, simply by the marvellous
intuition which invariably guided him at any crisis in his life.

And his self-respect also required that he should give Davanne his answer
without delay, and that the disappearance of those whom he was pursuing
should not seem to embarrass him. With his eyes glued to the map, he
placed one finger on Paris and another on Le Mans and, even before he had
asked himself why the scoundrel had chosen that Paris-Le Mans-Angers
route, he knew the answer to the question.

The name of a town had struck him and made the truth appear like a flash
of lightning: Alencon! Then and there, by the light of his memory, he
penetrated the mystery.

He repeated:

"Where are we going? Back again, bearing to the left."

"Any particular place?"

"Alencon."

"All right," said Davanne. "Lend a hand, some of you. I can make an easy
start from that field just there."

Don Luis and a few others helped him, and the preparations were soon
made. Davanne tested his engine. Everything was in perfect order.

At that moment a powerful racing car, with a siren yelling like a vicious
animal, came tearing along the Angers Road and promptly stopped. Three
men got out and rushed up to the driver of the yellow taxicab. Don Luis