“Have you seen a postchaise on the road you have come, sir?” said the prince.
“I have not, sir!” replied the little man, pompously. This was the Procureur du Roi, who would have been charged with the prosecution of the prince if he had been recaptured.
After the postchaise arrived, there were no further adventures until Valenciennes was reached a little before two. The train for Brussels did not leave till four, so for two weary hours the travellers sat together in the waiting room of the station talking over the events of the journey, and wondering how it fared with poor Dr. Conneau, who, although free to walk out of the prison when he liked, had insisted upon remaining to cover their retreat. While they sat there, a gendarme from Ham suddenly appeared, and clapped Thelin on the shoulder. The consternation of the travellers may be easily imagined.
“How goes it, Thelin?” said the man, in cheerful accents which speedily reassured them. “Who would have thought now of meeting anybody from Ham all this way off?”
“Good morning, neighbour,” said Thelin. “I am off to Belgium.”
“Ah! and how is the good prince?”
“He was very well when I last saw him. I have left his service now.”
“Oh, indeed! That gentleman with you is not from Ham, is he?”
“Oh, dear no! he is a man whom I have known years ago, and we have met again on the journey.”
“Ah, well, good-bye; my train is going, and I cannot stop any longer with you. Bon jour, monsieur” (to the prince). Hats raised.