Ursus recognized the faces of the police who had that morning carried off Gwynplaine.
There was no doubt about it. They were the same. They were reappearing.
Of course, Gwynplaine would also reappear. They had led him to that place; they would bring him back.
It was all quite clear.
Ursus strained his eyes to the utmost. Would they set Gwynplaine at liberty?
The files of police flowed from the low arch very slowly, and, as it were, drop by drop. The toll of the bell was uninterrupted, and seemed to mark their steps. On leaving the prison, the procession turned their backs on Ursus, went to the right, into the bend of the street opposite to that in which he was posted.
A second torch shone under the gateway, announcing the end of the procession.
Ursus was now about to see what they were bringing with them. The prisoner—the man.
Ursus was soon, he thought, to see Gwynplaine.
That which they carried appeared.