About six o'clock, observing Raoul approach the house, I withdrew quickly from the window, so that he might be taken the more completely by surprise. Suddenly the footsteps ceased, and I heard my friend putting his question to the landlord. The answer was not distinguishable, but it produced a remarkable effect. There was a rush and a clatter on the stairs, the door of my room was opened quickly, and Raoul threw himself into my arms.
"Albert," he cried, "I began to fear we should never see you again. You are too venturesome, my dear fellow. Listen! What is that? Ah! here is your English friend, and mine, too, now. He is a splendid fellow."
"Back again, my friend!" cried John Humphreys, as he entered the room. "You have had a long holiday this time."
"Longer than was agreeable," I answered, laughing, "but sit down and tell me the news; I am dying with curiosity."
"So are we," observed Raoul; "we want to know all that has happened to you."
"Didn't the story get abroad?"
"Only a little. We heard you were suspected of leading the attack on Condé. In fact, there were people who swore they saw you fire, though, naturally, I knew that was rubbish."
"Did you guess the truth?"
"Yes, and told Humphreys here. But I have not cried it from the housetops."
"You were wise; it is an affair that requires delicate handling," and I repeated the story of my adventures, from my disappearance to the moment of my being liberated from the Bastille.