He was elated at his narrow escape, and how cleverly he had tricked his friend, with whom he knew the police would be busy and so allow him time to get clean away. He was lithe and active, and a good runner. Therefore in his rubber-soled shoes he ran swiftly in the grey light of early morning, turning corner after corner, doubling and re-doubling until he came to a main thoroughfare. Then, walking slowly, he crossed it, and dived into a maze of small turnings, all of which were familiar to him. His first idea had been to seek refuge in the house of a friend--a thief, like himself, named Toussaint--but such a course would, he reflected, be highly dangerous. The police knew Toussaint to be a friend of his, and would, perhaps, go there in search of him. No. The best course was to get away into the country, and then to Belgium or Spain. With that snug little sum in his pocket, he could live quietly for at least a year. At last, out of breath, he ceased running, and, moreover, he noticed some men, going to their work early, look askance at his hurry. So he walked quietly, and lit a cigarette so as to assume an air of unconcern. "'The Eel' has been trapped at last," he laughed to himself. Then, as he put his hand into the outside pocket of his jacket, it came into contact with Jean's letter of farewell. He drew it out, glanced at it, and put it into his inner pocket with an imprecation followed by a triumphant laugh. Then he whistled in a low tone to himself a popular and catchy refrain. He was walking along briskly, smiling within himself at his alert cleverness at escaping, when, on suddenly turning the corner of a narrow street close to the Seine, he found himself face to face with two agents of police on cycles. They were about a hundred yards away and coming in his direction. They instantly recognised him. They were the two men sent out by the commissary. In a moment, by the attitude of the two officers, Ralph Ansell realised his danger. But too late. They threw down their cycles and fell upon him. For a few seconds there was a fierce struggle, but in desperation Ansell drew his revolver and fired point-blank at one of his captors, who staggered and fell back with a bullet-wound in the face. Then in a moment the thief had wrenched himself free and was away. The sound of the shot alarmed two other police-cyclists who were in the vicinity, and, attracted by the shouts of the injured man's companion, they were soon on the scene, and lost no time in pursuing the fugitive. The chase was a stern one. Through narrow, crooked streets "The American" ran with all speed possible, his endeavour being to reach a narrow lane protected from wheeled traffic by posts at either end, where he knew the cyclists would be compelled to dismount.