now, but I know them, and I can get a decent chap to come in."

He was gone a few minutes only; then voices sounded outside. "Been
looking for you, old dear," said their friend. "Only two sportsmen here
and a nice little show all to ourselves. Tumble in, and we'll get
cheerful. Not that seat, old dear. But wait a jiffy; let's sort things
out first."

* * * * *

They snorted out of the dreary tunnel into Rouen in the first daylight of
the next morning. Peter looked eagerly at the great winding river and the
glory of the cathedral as it towered up above the mists that hung over
the houses. There was a fresh taste of spring in the air, and the smoke
curled clear and blue from the slow-moving barges on the water. The bare
trees on the island showed every twig and thin branch, as if they had
been pencilled against the leaden-coloured flood beneath. A tug puffed
fussily upstream, red and yellow markings on its grimy black.

Jenks was asleep in the corner, but he woke as they clattered across the
bridge. "Heigh-ho!" he sighed, stretching. "Back to the old graft again."

Yet once more Peter began to collect his belongings. It seemed ages since
he had got into the train at Victoria, and he felt particularly grubby
and unshaven.

"What's the next move?" he asked.

Jenks eyed him. "Going to take a taxi?" he queried.