"Do you know where we can stop?" I asked of Devlin. "Have you ever been here before?"
"My dear sir," said Devlin, "I have travelled all over the world, and I know Boulogne by heart. There's a little out-of-the-way hotel, the Hôtel de Poilly, in Rue de l'Amiral Bruix, that will suit us as though it were built for us."
"Let us get there at once," I said.
He called a fly, and in a very short time we entered the courtyard of the Hotel de Poilly. There we made arrangements with the jolly, comfortable-looking landlady, and then I looked at Carton, and he looked at me. The helplessness of our situation struck us both forcibly.
"Who is in command?" asked Devlin suddenly.
"You," I replied, as by an inspiration.
"Good," said Devlin. "I accept the office. From this moment you are under my orders. Remain you here; I go to reconnoitre."
"You will return?" I said.
"My dear sir," said Devlin airily, "it is too late now to doubt my integrity. I will return."
"For God's sake," said Carton, when Devlin was gone, "who is this man who seems to divine everything, to know everything, and whom nothing disturbs? Sometimes when he looks at me I feel that he is exercising over me a terrible fascination."