“Quite right—the man of the express, the man of the terrace—and also the man of Monte Carlo and the man of Boulevard Haussmann and the murderer of the two brothers Loubeaux and the accomplice of Aurelie, and the navigator of the boat and the driver of the cart. That gives you plenty of warriors to fight, old chap; and I venture to say that they can all hold their own.” The horse had finished its drumming on the foot-board and scrambled to its feet and dragged the cart off them. Ralph sat up, on the small of the detective’s back, quietly drew off his big cloak, and wrapped it round the detective, so paralyzing his legs and arms. He caught the reins, pulled the cart towards him and, keeping a foot painfully on the detective’s back, stripped the horse of the traces and reins and bound Marescal with excessive tightness. Then he picked him up and carried him to the top of the high embankment into a thicket. He went down again, came back with a couple of straps from the harness, and fastened the detective by the neck and chest to the trunk of a birch. “I don’t seem to bring you any luck, poor old Rudolph. This is the second time I’ve tied you up like a mummy. Ah, don’t let me forget to use Aurelie’s handkerchief as a gag. The perfect prisoner should neither be seen nor heard. But you can see everything with your eyes and also listen with all your ears. Hark! Do you hear the whistle of the train? There it goes: puff, puff, puff! It has started for the North and it’s carrying away Aurelie and her step-father. I really must set your mind at rest. Aurelie’s as much alive as you or I. A little tired, perhaps, after so many emotions. But a good night’s rest, and she won’t show a trace of them.” He went away and tied the horse to a tree and cleared the fragments of the cart off the road. Then he came back and sat down by the Commissary.