A splendid officer of police was spoiled when Mornac entered the department.
Presently the deck guard began to shout: “Saint-Cloud! Saint-Cloud!” and the little boat glided up alongside the floating pier. Speed rose; I followed him 155 across the gang-plank; and, side by side, we climbed the embankment.
“Do you mean to say that Byram is going travelling about with his circus in spite of the war?” I whispered.
“Yes, indeed. We start south from Chartres to-morrow.”
Presently I said: “Do you suppose we will go to Lorient or—Paradise?”
“We will if I have anything to say about it,” replied Speed, throwing away his ragged cigar.
And I walked silently beside him, thinking of the young Countess and of Buckhurst.