The river Liane was but a short distance from the hotel, and we strolled along the bank in silence, Devlin, contrary to my expectation, not uttering a word for many minutes. He had lit a cigar, and Carton had accepted one from him; I refused to smoke, having too vivid a remembrance of the cigar I had smoked in Fanny Lemon's house, and its effect upon me. At length Devlin said to Carton: "You appear sleepy." "I am," said the young man. "You had best go to bed," said Devlin; "nothing can be done to-night." Carton, assenting, would have returned to the hotel alone, saying he could find the way, but I insisted that we should accompany him thither. I had heard that Boulogne was not the safest place in the world for strangers on a dark night. Having seen Carton to his room, we returned to the river's bank. Had Carton been in possession of his full senses he would doubtless have objected, but he was dead asleep when he entered his bedroom, Devlin's cigar having affected him as the one I smoked had affected me. "He encumbers us," said Devlin, looking out upon the dark river. "I have discovered where Mr. Dowsett is lodging, and were our young friend informed of the address he might rush there, and spoil all. We happen to be in luck, if you believe in such a quality as luck. I do not; but I use the term out of compliment to you. Mr. Dowsett's quarters are in the locality of the Rue de la Paix, and, singularly enough, are situated over a barber's shop. Things go in runs, do they not? Nothing but barbers. I do not return with you to the hotel to-night." "What do you mean?" I asked, startled by this information. "The proprietor of the barber's shop over which Mr. Kenneth Dowsett is sleeping--but, perhaps, not sleeping, for a sword is hanging above his head, and he may be gazing at the phantom in terror--say, then, over which he is lying, is an agreeable person. I have struck up an acquaintance with him, and, by arrangement, shall be in his saloon to-morrow, to attend to any persons who may present themselves. Mr. Dowsett will probably need the razor and the brush. I can easily account for my appearance in Boulogne; I have come to see my friend and brother. Mr. Dowsett, unsuspecting--for what connection can he trace between me and Lizzie Melladew?--will place himself in my hands. He has told me that there is not my equal; he may find that it is so. In order that I may not miss him I go to the house to-night. Early in the morning come you, alone, to the Rue de la Paix. You can ride to the foot of the hill, there alight, and on the right-hand side, a third of the way up, you will see my new friend's establishment. I will find you a snug corner from which you may observe and hear, yourself unseen, all that passes. Are you satisfied now that I am keeping faith with you?" "Indeed, you are proving it," I replied.