back to Toulon by the convict train, which leaves two hours
after midnight. Monsieur Mueller, the Government is indebted to you for
the assistance you have rendered the executive in this matter. You are
probably aware that the prisoner is a notorious criminal, guilty of one
proved murder, and several cases of forgery, card-sharping, and the
like. The Government is also indebted to Monsieur Marmot" (here he
inclined his head to the bald-headed Chef), "who has acted with his
usual zeal and intelligence."

Monsieur Marmot, murmuring profuse thanks, bowed and bowed again, and
followed Monsieur le Prefet obsequiously to the door. On the threshold,
the great little man paused, turned, and said very quietly: "You
understand, sergeant, this prisoner does _not_ escape again;" and so
vanished; leaving Monsieur Marmot still bowing in the doorway.

Then the sergeant hurried on Lenoir's coat and waistcoat, clapped a pair
of handcuffs on his wrists, thrust his hat on his head, and prepared to
be gone; Monsieur, the bald-headed, looking on, meanwhile, with the
utmost complacency, as if taking to himself all the merit of discovery
and capture.

"Pardon, Messieurs," said the serjeant, when all was ready. "Pardon--but
here is a fellow for whom I am responsible now, and who must be strictly
looked after. I shall have to put a gendarme on the box from here to the
Bicetre, instead of you two gentlemen."

"All right, _mon ami_" said Mueller. "I suppose we should not have been
admitted if we had gone with you?"

"Nay, I could pass you in, Messieurs, if you cared to see the affair to
the end, and followed in another _fiacre_."

So we said we would see it to the end, and following the prisoner and
his guard through all the rooms and corridors by which we had come,
picked up a second cab on the Quai des Orfevres, just outside the
Prefecture of Police.

It was now close upon midnight. The sky was flecked with driving clouds.
The moon had just risen above the towers of Notre Dame. The quays were
silent and deserted. The river hurried along, swirling and turbulent.
The sergeant's cab led the way, and the driver, instead of turning back
towards the Pont Neuf, followed the line of the quays along the southern
bank of the Ile de la Cite; passing the Morgue--a mass of sinister
shadow; passing the Hotel Dieu; traversing the Parvis Notre Dame; and
making for the long bridge, then called the Pont Louis Philippe, which
connects the two river island