The next day, as Ormond was returning to Madame de Connal’s, with the firm intention of adhering to the honourable line of conduct he had traced out for himself, just as he was crossing the Pont Neuf, some one ran full against him. Surprised at what happens so seldom in the streets of Paris, where all meet, pass, or cross, in crowds with magical celerity and address, he looked back, and at the same instant the person who had passed looked back also. An apparition in broad daylight could not have surprised Ormond more than the sight of this person. “Could it be—could it possibly be Moriarty Carroll, on the Pont Neuf in Paris?”
“By the blessing, then, it’s the man himself—Master Harry!—though I didn’t know him through the French disguise. Oh! master, then, I’ve been tried and cast, and all but hanged—sentenced to Botany—transported any way—for a robbery I didn’t commit—since I saw you last. But your honour’s uneasy, and it’s not proper, I know, to be stopping a jantleman in the street; but I have a word to say that will bear no delay, not a minute.”
Ormond’s surprise and curiosity increased—he desired Moriarty to follow him.
“And now, Moriarty, what is it you have to say?”
“It is a long story, then, please your honour. I was transported to Botany, though innocent. But first and foremost for what consarns your honour first.”
“First,” said Ormond, “if you were transported, how came you here?”
“Because I was not transported, plase your honour—only sentenced—for I escaped from Kilmainham, where I was sent to be put on board the tender; but I got on board of an American ship, by the help of a friend—and this ship being knocked against the rocks, I came safe ashore in this country on one of the sticks of the vessel: so when I knowed it was France I was in, and recollected Miss Dora that was married in Paris, I thought if I could just make my way any hows to Paris, she’d befriend me in case of need.
“But, dear master,” said Moriarty, interrupting, “it’s a folly to talk—I’ll not tell you a word more of myself till you hear the news I have for you. The worst news I have to tell you is, there is great fear of the breaking of Sir Ulick’s bank!”
“The breaking of Sir Ulick’s bank? I heard from him the day before yesterday.”
“May be you did; but the captain of the American ship in which I came was complaining of his having been kept two hours at that bank, where they were paying large sums in small notes, and where there was the greatest run upon the house that ever was seen.”