Carton set his teeth in great agitation. "If he is! if he is!" he said; but he could say no more. Bill Foster was back. "There's a train to Folkestone," he cried, "the South-Eastern line, at 11.47. You can catch it easily. If there's no boat handy from Folkestone to Boulogne, you'll be able to hire one there. The steamers take two hours going across. You can get there in four. Train arrives at Folkestone at 1.27. By six o'clock you can be in Boulogne. Jump into my trap, gentlemen." We jumped in, and were driven to the station. His information was correct. I gave him thirty shillings, and he departed in high glee. Then we took tickets for Folkestone, and arrived there at a quarter to two. There was no steamer going, but with little difficulty we arranged to get across. The passage took longer than four hours--it took six. At nine o'clock at night we were in Boulogne. I cannot speak an intelligible sentence in French. Carton was too agitated to take the direction of affairs. "Do you know where we can stop?" I asked of Devlin. "Have you ever been here before?" "My dear sir," said Devlin, "I have travelled all over the world, and I know Boulogne by heart. There's a little out-of-the-way hotel, the Hôtel de Poilly, in Rue de l'Amiral Bruix, that will suit us as though it were built for us." "Let us get there at once," I said. He called a fly, and in a very short time we entered the courtyard of the Hotel de Poilly. There we made arrangements with the jolly, comfortable-looking landlady, and then I looked at Carton, and he looked at me. The helplessness of our situation struck us both forcibly. "Who is in command?" asked Devlin suddenly. "You," I replied, as by an inspiration. "Good," said Devlin. "I accept the office. From this moment you are under my orders. Remain you here; I go to reconnoitre." "You will return?" I said. "My dear sir," said Devlin airily, "it is too late now to doubt my integrity. I will return." "For God's sake," said Carton, when Devlin was gone, "who is this man who seems to divine everything, to know everything, and whom nothing disturbs? Sometimes when he looks at me I feel that he is exercising over me a terrible fascination." "I cannot answer you," I said. "Be satisfied with the knowledge that it is through him we have so far succeeded, and that, in my belief, it will be through him that the murderer will be tracked down. The world is full of mysteries, and that man is not the least of them." It wanted an hour to midnight when Devlin returned. In his inscrutable face I read no sign of success or failure; but the first words he spoke afforded me infinite relief. "I have seen him," he said. "Let us go out and talk. Walls have ears."