"Bah! a clown can stand a scratch; but come quickly into my room, it is cold outside."
Girdel and Fanfaro entered the small attic and Bobichel received his old comrades cordially.
"The ball did not hit you, then?" asked Girdel; "we thought you were gone."
"Almost," replied the clown; "I dragged myself a few steps further, with the bullet in my side, and then sank down unconscious. When I awoke I found myself in the hospital at Remiremont, where I remained until a week ago. Later on I will give you all the details. For to-day I will only say that I arrived in Paris yesterday and rented this room here. I expected to find you here, and I intended to look about to-morrow morning. What happy accident brought you here?"
"In the first place, the police," replied Fanfaro; "they hunted us like a pack of dogs a wild animal, and if we had not escaped over the roofs we would now be behind lock and key."
"But why are you pursued?" asked Bobichel, anxiously. "Do you belong to the conspiracy of which there is so much talk?"
"Probably," replied Girdel.
"Is there a place for me in the conspiracy?" asked the clown, vivaciously, "I am without employment just now, and if you wish to take me in tow, I—"
"We shall attend to it," said Fanfaro, cordially.
"How is little Caillette getting on?" asked Bobichel, after a pause.