"Not till then!" he assented.
Before we left Calais, Feurgéres sent more telegrams, and for an hour afterwards he sat opposite to me with wide-open eyes, seeing nothing, as was very evident, save the images created by his own thoughts. As we reached Amiens, however, he spoke to me.
"You had better try and get some sleep," he said. "You may have little time for rest in Paris."
"And you?" I asked.
"It is another matter," he answered. "I am accustomed to sleeping very little; and besides, it is probable that this affair may become one which it will be necessary for you to follow up alone. The sight of me, or the mention of my name, is like poison to all the Waldenburgs. They would only be the more bitter and hard to deal with if they knew that I, too, had joined in the chase. I hope to be able to do my share secretly."
I followed his suggestion, and slept more or less fitfully all the way to Paris. I was awakened to find that the train had come to a standstill. We were already in the station, and as I hastily collected my belongings I saw that Feurgéres had left me, and was standing on the platform talking earnestly to a pale, dark young Frenchman, sombrely dressed and of insignificant appearance. I joined him just as his companion departed. He turned towards me with a peculiar smile.
"My apologies to the Princess," he said. "The address is correct. They have gone to a suite of rooms belonging to the Baron von Leibingen."
"They are there still, then?" I exclaimed.
"They are there still," Feurgéres assented, "and they show no immediate signs of moving on. They are apparently waiting for someone—perhaps for the Princess Adelaide. Inside the house and out they are being closely watched, and directly their plans are made I shall know of them."
I looked, as I felt, a little surprised. Feurgéres smiled.