"Straight before us."
"Drive there."
He drove on, but slowly. There was another explosion, this time close by us, the end of the street became filled with smoke; at the moment we were passing No. 22, which has a side-door above which I read, "Petit Lavoir."
Suddenly a voice called out to the driver, "Stop!"
The driver pulled up, and the window of the fiacre being down, a hand was stretched towards mine. I recognized Alexander Rey.
This daring man was pale.
"Go no further," said he; "all is at an end."
"What do you mean, all at an end?"
"Yes, they must have anticipated the time appointed; the barricade is taken: I have just come from it. It is a few steps from here straight before us."
And he added,—