Someone--I know not who--at this juncture cut the silken cord by which a huge ornamental lantern was hung above our heads. It fell with a crash, and in a moment we were in semi-darkness. I took the opportunity to dash forwards, flatten myself against the wall, and, by dint of a little management and more good luck, succeeded in getting within a yard or so of the door. Here, taking my occasion, I made a sudden spring forwards, upsetting a man in front of me, and dashed off down the street. Unfortunately, I was not so quick but that I was seen and instantly pursued by a portion of the watch on guard outside. There was nothing for it but to run. Fast as I went, however, there were good men behind me, and I could not shake them off, though the streets were in gloom. The worst of the matter, however, was that the watch was being constantly reinforced by amateur guardians of the peace. Everyone who happened to be passing, or heard the noise, seemed to think it his duty to join in the chase, and it was with a fine following that I headed towards the river. Heaven knows how I cursed my folly at having put my nose into More's, and I redoubled my pace as I heard, from the shouts to the right and to the left of me, that I was practically hemmed in, and that my only chance was to take to the river. They were close up to me when I reached the bank a few yards below the Pont aux Meunniers, and without further hesitation I plunged in, and the bubbling and seething of the water brought the yell of disappointment from the bank faintly to my ears. The set of the stream was towards the opposite shore, and in five seconds I was in pitch darkness, though, looking back over my shoulder as I struck out, I could see, by the lanterns that some carried, the watch and the volunteer brigade dancing with anger at my escape, but none of them dared to follow. I had to swim with a will, for the current was swift; but at length I reached my own side of the river--drenched, it is true, but safe for the present. When I reached my lodging Pantin opened the door to me. '_Ciel!_' he exclaimed, as he saw me wet and dripping. 'What has happened?' 'I have had a swim in the Seine, Pantin; say nothing about it.' CHAPTER XII MONSIEUR RAVAILLAC DOES NOT SUIT