"Very good. Now do you take 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 a.s.sa.s.sination, 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 gla.s.s. 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 n.o.bly 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 strength, which had been sorely taxed by his journey. While half asleep, he had heard steps on the roof, and with a vague belief that the whole hospital force were in pursuit of him, he resolved to brave them. Fate had brought to him, however, his two best friends--Gudel and Fanfar.

After they had heard this explanation, it became Bobichel's turn to question.

"Let Fanfar tell you," said Gudel. "I really know nothing except that he bade me fly, that my neck has been nearly broken, and that he saved my life; but why I have been obliged to run about over roofs in this way, I really can't say."

"Perhaps you are still conspiring?" asked Bobichel, innocently.

Fanfar shouted with laughter. "Yes," he replied, "and more than ever!"

"Tell me," asked the clown, "is it a difficult trade? I have nothing in the world to do, and I must have some occupation, of course."

"We will see about that later."

"You have said nothing about Mademoiselle Caillette."

"She is in safety. She knew nothing of the pursuit of the police.

To-morrow, before she begins to be uneasy, we will send her word where we are, and bid her come to us."

The clock struck two.

"Do you hear that, Bobichel?" said Fanfar. "You are far from strong, and must rest."

"No, no. I have found you, and there is rest in that!"

"My dear fellow, you must get yourself into the best possible condition if you join us. You will need your legs, I a.s.sure you. Sleep, Bobichel, sleep."

The truth was that, in spite of his good intentions, Bobichel was dead with sleep, and presently he tumbled upon his mattress, and loud snores informed the two friends that he had succ.u.mbed to their entreaties.

Then, and not until then, Fanfar leaned toward Gudel.

"You will admit," he said, "that I do not easily become a prey to illusions, but the truth is, that I am greatly disturbed by something that has happened. Will you answer a few questions?"

"Certainly, my boy--any questions."

"You know, my second father, the strange accident by which I was thrown in your way. You have told me of the researches you made in the village of Leigoutte. You learned, did you not, that my mother perished in a fire?"

"Yes--a fire set by the Cossacks."

"And my father?"

"Died on the field of battle, in the defence of France!"

"I am haunted by a dim remembrance of a flight through the darkness, leading my little sister by my side, and then she seemed to vanish."

"And you have never seen her since?"

"No; but I have never forgotten her, and I am convinced that if she is living she has not forgotten her brother. Ah! when I think of all this, I hate more than ever the oppressors of France, who have opened a road to the throne over dead bodies!"

"But why are you troubled with these thoughts to-day?"

"I will tell you. My sister's name was Francine, but we called her Cinette, and this evening a girl was carried away by violence from the _Veau Saute_."

"And that Aube has such a good face!"

"Oh! he was not concerned in this villainy. The crime was committed by a man who has more than once crossed our path--the Vicomte de Talizac!"

"Oh! what a family that is!" cried Gudel. "It was his lacquey, or his father's, who denounced us to-night!"

"This is not all. The truth is, Gudel--you will probably think me mad--but I am convinced that the girl who was carried off--the one called Cinette--"

"You mean that you believe her to be your--"

"I can't reason," interrupted Fanfar. "It is the name of my little sister, and the conviction is unalterable that this girl is my sister.

And now I can do nothing for her, and she in such deadly peril!" He stopped short. "Gudel," he exclaimed, "you have never seen me shrink from danger?"

"Not I."

"And yet, to-night I feel as weak as a child."