At a few minutes to five I went on board the steamer. With a cigarette between my lips and a bundle of newspapers under my arm I walked up and down the deck, read _Le Rire_, and did all I could to assume a careless mien. In reality I was in a very serious situation. The question was: Had a telegram from the regiment with my description reached Oran already or not? The half-hour struck, but the _St. Augustine_ was still in dock. Police came and went. All at once I felt myself go pale as death; a patrol of four Zouave sergeants was coming up the gangway. They went over the whole ship, looking carefully about them. Then they interchanged a few words with the captain and went on again.... I was just beginning to breathe again, when a gendarme came up to me and asked, saluting courteously: "Monsieur is a Frenchman?" "Non, monsieur, an Englishman," I answered quietly, and smiled at the gendarme in spite of the icy fear gripping at my heart. If he should chance on the idea of asking for my papers I was lost! "Your name, please?" "Eugene Sanders." "Profession?" "Engineer--from Tlemcen--on the way to Nice." "Thank you." ... After a few minutes the ship's bell rang out, the gangways were pulled in, and the screw began to revolve. I went into my cabin and went to sleep. During the whole of the sea voyage I had not a single thought, not a single hope, not a single fear--I merely slept. As the _St. Augustine_ ran into harbour in Marseilles, a new difficulty presented itself. What would the custom-house say to my valise filled with paper? Luggage of this sort would have made anybody suspicious. Chance came to my aid. A number of boats crowded around the ship, and several boatmen climbed on board to offer their services as porters, and so on. I went up to one of them and told him that I wanted to be put on shore as quickly as possible. Could he do it? "For five francs," the fellow said. "All right. Row me over." My satchel I left on board to avoid the customs inspection. A gangway had already been let down from the side of the steamer, and I stepped down into the boat with my boatman. Ten minutes later I stood on the "quai" in Marseilles. In another five minutes I had found a cab and was on my way to the station. Half an hour later I was seated in a compartment of an express train for the Riviera. A Riviera journey in the darkness.... Toulon flew past--Cannes. In Nice I could hear even in the railway-train the noise of the carnival which was nearing its end--the platform was covered with confetti. We reached Monaco--Monte Carlo, with its brilliantly illuminated casino. At last we reached Ventimiglia: the first Italian station! It was one o'clock in the morning. I stormed into the telegraph-office and despatched two telegrams to my two dearest.... Free--free again! CHAPTER XV J'ACCUSE