"Attention!" said Fandor to himself. "The doings of this little priest are likely to have a peculiar interest for me! At the least sign of danger, my Fandor, I give thee two minutes to cut and run!"
Our journalist knew Rouen well. He knew that to reach Barentin, the car, passing out of the great square, surrounded by the new barracks, would follow the quay, traverse the town from end to end, pass near the famous transshipping bridge, and join the high road again.
"If we pull up at one of the garages along the quays, all will be well," thought Fandor.... "In case of an alarm, a run of a hundred yards or so would bring me to one of the many electric tramways.... I should board a tram—devil take them, if they dared to chase and catch me!"
The car had reached the bridge which prolongs the rue Jeanne d'Arc across the Seine. They were now in the heart of Rouen. The chauffeur turned:
"Can I stop, Monsieur? I need petrol and water."
The priest pointed to a garage.
"Stop there!"
The chauffeur began to supply the wants of his machine with the help of an apprentice. The priest jumped out and entered the garage. Fandor followed on his heels, saying:
"It does one good to stretch one's legs!"
The abbé seemed in no wise disturbed. He walked up to the owner of the place.