"Then I stepped out of my box and looked around me. We were at Basle. On the platform I saw my old enemy of the Third Section—the same man whose forehead I had gashed—offering explanations to two policemen, who held him fast and did not seem at all disposed to listen to him.
"I pointed at him with the finger of denunciation.
"'There he is,' I cried. 'That is the culprit; that is the man who fired the bomb. He was making bombs in the woods near Montreux, and because I caught him at it he kidnapped me and threatened me with this living death. It is a voice from the dead that now convicts him of his crime.'
"You can imagine the effect that followed from my words. The crowd rushed forward as one man, vowing that it would tear the miscreant limb from limb; the police, as one man, formed up to save him for more formal and deliberate justice, and I found myself standing alone and unobserved upon the platform.
"'This is a good opportunity of retiring unobtrusively,' I said to myself, 'If I remain to give evidence, I shall be the mark of the vengeance of the Third Section for the remainder of my life. Better that an ocean should roll between us; better that I should disappear mysteriously and leave no trace behind.'
"So, taking advantage of the confusion, I bought a ticket and slipped unnoticed into the Paris train en route for Havre and America.
"Afterwards, from the papers, I learnt that my enemy of the Third Section—whose Government naturally could not help him—had been sentenced to imprisonment with hard labour."
THE COUNTER-REVOLUTION.
Stromboli smoked a cigar, slowly and meditatively, in my chambers. The dreamy yet earnest look in his eyes indicated that he was following an important train of thought. At last he spoke.
"What," he asked, "is your candid opinion of me as a story-teller?"