ke the lead, I will follow."

Fanfar was strangely preoccupied. While Gudel talked to him a voice was
continually repeating in his ear:

"Cinette! Cinette!"

Gudel saw that there was something unusual going on in the mind of his
friend. He had been long accustomed to unquestioning obedience to
Fanfar. Ever since La Roulante left him after the attempt at
assassination, Gudel had been a different man and subject to fits of
great depression from which Fanfar alone could rouse him, and when
Fanfar rushed into his room calling out, "The police! the police!" Gudel
followed him without a question.

Suddenly Gudel stumbled. Fanfar caught him, but it was too late. There
was a crash of broken glass. Gudel had broken one of those small windows
in the roof which landlords consider sufficient for tenants who pay only
sixty francs per annum for their attics. And from this window emerged a
long, strange, white object, which was probably a man, as it terminated
in a white cotton nightcap. This strange form had two long arms. One
hand held a candle and the other sheltered it from the wind. There was a
yell of amazement from their throats.

"Fanfar!"

"Bobichel!"

"I thought you were dead, Bobichel," said Iron Jaws, severely.

"No, I am not dead; but I was asleep."

"You are alone!"

"Of course!"

"Then you can take us in."

Bobichel uttered an oath. "Of course I can!" he shouted.

It was clear that he was not a ghost. Ghosts do not swear nor carry
candles in their hands. Finally the three were seated in a small attic
about four yards square. They all talked at once.

How did Bobichel get there? Where had he been?

He had been taken to the hospital and there detained on account of some
peculiarities in his condition, which greatly excited the curiosity of
the medical students. One day as Bobichel was recovering, he was in the
garden and noticed a door in the wall, and saw that the gardener had
left his key in it. He selected the moment judiciously, and finally
found himself on the road to Paris, where he had arrived that very
morning. He had not a sou, but he had rented this garret which the
landlord had had on his hands for three months by reason of the rats,
and therefore nobly refrained from asking money in advance. A bundle of
straw had taken his remaining five sous, and on this the ex-clown
extended himself, thinking of the past and resolutely closing his eyes
to the future. His first care was to regain his stren