Forgotten, no doubt--it, also! But how--
designedly or through distraction? He seized it eagerly. Some of
its petals fell to the ground. He picked them up, one by one, like
precious relics.
"Come!" he said to himself, "I have nothing more to do here. I
must think of my safety, before Sherlock Holmes arrives."
* * * * *
The park was deserted, but some gendarmes were stationed at the
park-gate. He entered a grove of pine trees, leaped over the wall,
and, as a short cut to the railroad station, followed a path across
the fields. After walking about ten minutes, he arrived at a spot
where the road grew narrower and ran between two steep banks. In
this ravine, he met a man traveling in the opposite direction. It
was a man about fifty years of age, tall, smooth-shaven, and
wearing clothes of a foreign cut. He carried a heavy cane, and a
small satchel was strapped across his shoulder. When they met, the
stranger spoke, with a slight English accent:
"Excuse me, monsieur, is this the way to the castle?"
"Yes, monsieur, straight ahead, and turn to the left when you come
to the wall. They are expecting you."
"Ah!"
"Yes, my friend Devanne told us last night that you were coming,
and I am delighted to be the first to welcome you.
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