There was nothing for it but to run. Fast as I went, however, there were good men behind me, and I could not shake them off, though the streets were in gloom. The worst of the matter, however, was that the watch was being constantly reinforced by amateur guardians of the peace. Everyone who happened to be passing, or heard the noise, seemed to think it his duty to join in the chase, and it was with a fine following that I headed towards the river. Heaven knows how I cursed my folly at having put my nose into More's, and I redoubled my pace as I heard, from the shouts to the right and to the left of me, that I was practically hemmed in, and that my only chance was to take to the river. They were close up to me when I reached the bank a few yards below the Pont aux Meunniers, and without further hesitation I plunged in, and the bubbling and seething of the water brought the yell of disappointment from the bank faintly to my ears. The set of the stream was towards the opposite shore, and in five seconds I was in pitch darkness, though, looking back over my shoulder as I struck out, I could see, by the lanterns that some carried, the watch and the volunteer brigade dancing with anger at my escape, but none of them dared to follow.
I had to swim with a will, for the current was swift; but at length I reached my own side of the river—drenched, it is true, but safe for the present. When I reached my lodging Pantin opened the door to me.
'Ciel!' he exclaimed, as he saw me wet and dripping. 'What has happened?'
'I have had a swim in the Seine, Pantin; say nothing about it.'
CHAPTER XII
[MONSIEUR RAVAILLAC DOES NOT SUIT]
In the excitement attendant in my scuffle with d'Ayen and the subsequent events, ending in my escape from the clutches of the watch, I had for the moment clean forgot Ravaillac's fit of frenzy. I slept profoundly, and towards morning was half awakened by an uneasy feeling that there was someone in the room. This passed away; but a short time after I awoke with a start, and looking around saw Ravaillac bending over some of my things which were lying in a corner of the room. As I looked at him the full recollection of his strange behaviour came back to me, and, a slight movement on my part attracting his attention, he bade me a civil good-morning. He made no mention, however, of his illness, nor did he excuse himself in any way, but set about his duties in a quiet, cat-like manner.
Whilst he moved softly about, I began to piece together the noise of the stumble I had heard outside my door when about to set out with Palin, with Madame Pantin's warning and the scene in the loft. It struck me that his seizure might after all be a blind, and I determined to question the man, and, by watching the play of his features and noting his manner of reply, try and discover if there was anything to show that my idea was correct.
Pretending, therefore, to be unaware of what had passed, I asked:
'How was it you were not in to receive me last night, Ravaillac?'