Cambray drove rapidly in the Marquis de Fervlans's carriage
through the streets of Paris. He was buried in thought. He glanced only
now and then from the window. He was not altogether satisfied with
himself that he was riding in a carriage which belonged to so important
a person--a gentleman whose name he had never heard until that day.
Suddenly he was surprised to find the carriage entering a gateway. A
carriage could not enter the gate at his lodgings! The Swiss hussar
sprang from the box, opened the carriage door, and M. Cambray found
himself confronted by a sergeant with a drawn sword.
"This is not my residence," said the old gentleman.
"Certainly not," replied the sergeant. "This is the Prison of St.
Pelagie."
"What have I to do here? My name is Alfred Cambray."
"You are the very one we have been expecting."
And now it was M. Cambray's turn to laugh merrily.
When M. Cambray's pockets had been searched, and everything suspicious
confiscated, he was conducted to a room in the second story, in which he
was securely locked. He had plenty of time to look about his new
lodgings.
Apparently the room had been occupied by many an important personage.
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