Apparently they did as he bade them, for half a minute later there came a crunching of wheels and a carriage started and went down the hill at a good pace. Indomitable, Ralph took the canvas bag from the wreck of his bicycle, and set off after it at a steady trot. He was furious. Nothing in the world would have induced him to abandon the struggle. It was no longer merely a matter of millions and millions which would make the rest of his life magnificent, his vanity was up in arms. Having solved the insoluble enigma, he must be the first to arrive at the goal. Not to be there, not to seize the treasure, to let someone else take it, would have been an intolerable humiliation to the day of his death. So, indefatigable, he toiled on behind the carriage, and not so far behind it either, buoyed up by the thought that the enigma was not yet solved in its entirety, that his adversaries, like himself, had yet to find the actual place in which the block of granite stood; and in that darkness it was going to take time. While they were doing it, he might once more get the better of them. Then Fortune relented and helped him. As he entered Jumièges he saw in front of him the wavering light of a lantern, heard the tinkle of a bell, and, whereas his adversaries had gone straight through the village, he dropped into a quiet walk. Then he met the priest of Jumièges, who, accompanied by a small boy, was returning from administering extreme unction. Ralph dropped into step beside him, asked where he could find an inn, and in the course of their talk as they went in the direction of that inn, pretending that he was an archæologist, spoke of a curious stone which he had been told he would find in the neighborhood. “The dolmen of the queen, or something of that kind, they told me it was called,” said Ralph. “You ought to know that object of interest, Monsieur le curé?” “Of course I do, monsieur,” said the priest. “I’m pretty sure that it must be what we call Agnes Sorel’s stone.” “It’s at Mesnil-sous-Jumièges, isn’t it?” asked Ralph. “That’s where it is, about two and a half miles away. But it’s hardly an object of interest--just a group of small rocks emerging from a mound, the tallest of which is three or four feet above the Seine.” “It’s on common land, isn’t it?” said Ralph. “It was a few years ago, but the Commune sold it to one of my parishioners, a M. Simon Thuilard who wished to extend his meadow-land.” Immensely pleased, Ralph took his leave of the priest, provided with minute directions for finding the stone. They enabled him to avoid the big village of Jumièges, plunge into the network of winding roads which lead to Mesnil-sous-Jumièges, with the result that he got ahead of his adversaries.