“A carriage without a locomotive appeared and disappeared, and no one could tell from whence it came. It disappeared, as it appeared.... Did you not see a carriage with a man at the door pass by here?” “Monsieur,” said the signalman angrily, “you mock me! You are exaggerating because you do not believe the story of the express which did not come. But look, monsieur, at my signal; that is proof enough. It cannot make a mistake.” M. Longuet replied to the signalman: “If you did not see the express, neither did I.” In that “neither did I” commenced the inward thoughts of M. Longuet, who went away in Signor Petito’s clothes. M. Longuet had an idea. His misfortune was so extreme and so incurable that he resolved to die for the others. With a little cunning this was possible, since he had reclothed himself in Signor Petito’s clothes. Nothing would hinder him from leaving his on the bank of the first river he came to. This would constitute a suicidal act, according to the law. M. Longuet was moved to the thought of addressing a letter to Marceline and Adolphe. On the banks of what river would he put his clothes? How could he re-enter Paris? However, these thoughts passed through his head momentarily, for there was only one thing which was really of importance to him, and that was the explanation of the disappearance of the train. This explanation was given to Théophraste by M. Mifroid, under the circumstances which we shall now report. CHAPTER XXIX _M. Milford Recognizes Cartouche_ |AT midnight an artisan was singing in a square in Paris, at the side of the ancient Quarter d’Enfer, the hymn which several months later became so popular, the “International.” That artisan was working with several companions repairing the track, which had sustained certain damages, following the construction of a new drain. The track was bent in certain places, and even a house in that situation, a heavy new house of seven stories, was leaning. The city engineers were much concerned by this state of affairs. They knew that in this quarter the catacombs projected their innumerable tunnels, their thousands of drains, and that certain buildings were in a very precarious state. There are ancient Gallic-Roman quarries under those tottering walls, and so they determined on some work to make these houses secure. The day which interests us saw the end of this work. The artisan who sang the “International” had, with his companions, completed the stopping of a hole in the subterranean vault that they had previously strengthened with very heavy pillars, several meters high. It was just about twilight when they relinquished their work, and the workman who sang the “International” had almost finished stopping up the hole at that hour.