ucky it was not your head, Mr. Mole," said young Jack.

"You are all against me, I see, but it does not matter."

So saying, Mole took out his pocket flask and was about to refresh
himself.

But Harkaway senior, stretching out his hand, took the flask.

"No, Mr. Mole; if you have any more, I fear we shall have a more
serious accident. So not a drop till the first time we stop."

"Why, this is a mail train, and only stops about every two hours."

"And I am quite sure you can exist without brandy for that little
time."

"Well, I suppose I may smoke then?"

"Certainly; you shall have one of my best regalias."

Mr. Mole took the weed, and puffed away rather sulkily.

They had got about eight miles from Marseilles when suddenly the engine
slackened speed, and the train drew up at a little roadside station.

"What does this mean?" said Harvey. "We ought not to stop here."

"This is our first stopping place, however, so I'll trouble you for my
flask, according to promise," said Mole, with a beaming countenance.

Harkaway handed it over and was settling back again when he heard a
police official asking--

"Where is the gentleman who was run over at Marseilles?"

"Here," said Harkaway.

The gendarme ran to the spot, and to his intense surprise saw the
victim of the accident in the act of taking a hearty drink from his
brandy flask while his left hand held a lighted cigar.

"What do you want?" demanded Mole.

"The officials at Marseilles, unable to stop the train, telegraphed to
me to see that you had proper medical attendance."

"Ha, ha, ha! look here, old boy; I always carry my own physic. Taste
it."

The officer took the flask, and finding that the smell was familiar,
applied it to his lips.

"The fact is," said Harkaway, "the gentleman was wearing wooden legs,
and they only were damaged."

"Indeed; then you think that you are able to proceed on your journey,
sir?"

"Yes, if you will leave me some of my medicine."

The gendarme bowed, handed back the flask, and the train rolled away.

CHAPTER CVII.

A DUEL.

"Paris at last," exclaimed Harvey.

"That's a good job, for I am tired of sitting, and want to stretch my
legs; don't you, Mr. Mole?" said young Jack.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jack," replied Mr. Mole.

Harkaway senior, who had been looking out of the window, drew in his
head and said--

"Well, Mr. Mole, you are in a nice fix."

"How?"

"I don't see any----"

"Any what?"