No. The best course was to get away into the country, and then to Belgium or Spain. With that snug little sum in his pocket, he could live quietly for at least a year.
At last, out of breath, he ceased running, and, moreover, he noticed some men, going to their work early, look askance at his hurry.
So he walked quietly, and lit a cigarette so as to assume an air of unconcern.
“‘The Eel’ has been trapped at last,” he laughed to himself. Then, as he put his hand into the outside pocket of his jacket, it came into contact with Jean’s letter of farewell.
He drew it out, glanced at it, and put it into his inner pocket with an imprecation followed by a triumphant laugh.
Then he whistled in a low tone to himself a popular and catchy refrain.
He was walking along briskly, smiling within himself at his alert cleverness at escaping, when, on suddenly turning the corner of a narrow street close to the Seine, he found himself face to face with two agents of police on cycles.
They were about a hundred yards away and coming in his direction. They instantly recognised him. They were the two men sent out by the commissary.
In a moment, by the attitude of the two officers, Ralph Ansell realised his danger. But too late. They threw down their cycles and fell upon him.