"The informer escaped from the cells during your absence this evening," said the Man in Grey curtly.
"Malediction!"
"Do not curse, my good man," advised the other dryly. "The rascal's escape may be the means of retrieving your blunder, since it gave me the knowledge of the whole affair."
"But how did it happen?"
"Surveillance slackened while you went off on your wild-goose chase. Your prisoner used some of the money wherewith you had bribed him—against my express command, remember—to bribe his warder in his turn. Your sergeant-in-charge came to me in his distress when he found that his bird had flown."
Lefèvre had no longer the strength to argue or even to curse. He hung his head in silent dejection.
"I sent for you," continued the Man in Grey mercilessly. "When I found that you had gone no one knew whither, and that you had taken a posse of your men with you, I guessed the whole extent of your damnable blunder. I have waited here for you ever since.
"What can I do now?" murmured Lefèvre gloomily.
"Collect ten or twelve of the men whom you can most confidently trust, and then pick me up at my lodgings in the Rue de France. We'll go back to Chéron's farm—together."
"But there is no one there," said Lefèvre with a dejected sigh, "only Chéron's father, his wife and two daughters."