"Good night, my wild and reckless but gallant Philip, and the same to you, young American stranger."
Then she went out, closed the door, and the two heard the big key turning again in the lock. The young Frenchman looked at the young American and smiled in content.
"How did you know so exactly?" asked John.
"Just call it an uncommonly accurate guess. Now, I think I'll put out the lamp. The light from the window is sufficient for us, and we don't want to take any unnecessary risk."
He blew out the light, but John went to the window, and looked out on the tiny court or place, on the far side of which ran a street so narrow that it would have been called an alley at home.
He could not see much owing to the thick darkness, and it had begun to rain also. The air was chill and heavy with damp. John shivered. Fate had played him a weird trick by causing him to lose his train, but she had atoned for it partly by giving him this brave young Frenchman as a comrade. It was wonderfully snug and comfortable in the house of Madame Crocheville, called by her fellow townsmen and townswomen Frau Krochburg.
"I'm glad it's not a part of your plan for us to escape tonight, Philip," he said.
"And what's the cause of your gladness."
"It's raining, and it's as cold as winter. I like this place, and I think I'll go to bed."
"A good plan. Everything is ready for us."