They packed up their former disguises, which might come in useful again. Their pistols they had already about them. They then went out on to the wharf again and, a few minutes later, were joined by Jules Desailles.
"I have been nervous ever since I left you," Jean Martin said, as his friend shook hands with Leigh. "I was afraid that a quarter of an hour's delay might be fatal."
"I lost no time. But I feel sure that it will be an hour before anyone is down after me; they are all too fond of listening to their own voices to close any discussion, in less than an hour after the proposer has sat down. I hope the boat is not far off, for this portmanteau of mine is heavy, I can assure you."
Martin took it up and swung it on to his shoulder.
"No, my dear Jean, I won't have it."
"Nonsense, Jules. The weight is nothing to me though, no doubt, to a man who never takes any exercise it would feel heavy."
"To say the truth, it is heavier than I expected. I went on packing up everything that I did not like to leave behind, until the thing was crammed full; and after I had locked it, and went to lift it, I was thunderstruck with the weight."
"Did your servant see you go out?"
"No; I rang for her, and told her that I was going out, and did not suppose that I should be back till late, and that she could go to bed when she liked--which I knew would be a few minutes after she got permission. She is a sort of human dormouse and, nineteen times out of twenty, I have had to wait for my breakfast. I was in a fright as I walked down here, lest some one who knew me might run against me, but happily I saw no one."
"They would not recognize you, if they had seen you," Jean laughed. "The idea of Monsieur Desailles, advocate, a gentleman somewhat particular as to his attire, dragging a portmanteau weighing a hundred pounds through the streets, would seem an impossibility."