The cab turned again into the Rue de la Montagne-Sainte-Genevieve, and went slowly down it; it went across the Place Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, following the houses.  Caniolle walked behind it, Petit and Destavigny followed at a distance.  Just as the carriage arrived at the corner of the Rue des Sept-Voies, four individuals came out from the shadow.  One of them seized the apron, and helping himself up by the step, flung himself into the cab, which had not stopped, and went off at full speed....

The police had recognised Georges, disguised as a market-porter.  Caniolle, who was nearest, rushed forward; the three men who had remained on the spot, and who were no other than Joyaut, Burban and Raoul Gaillard, tried to stop him.  Caniolle threw them off, and chased the cab which had disappeared in the Rue Saint-Etienne-des-Gres.  He caught up to it, just as it was entering the Passage des Jacobins.  Seizing the springs, he was carried along with it.  The two officers of the peace, less agile, followed crying, “Stop!  Stop!”

Georges, seated on the right of Leridant, who held the reins, had turned to the back of the carriage and tried to follow the fortunes of the pursuit through the glass.  The moment that he had jumped into the carriage, he had seen the detectives, and said to Leridant:  “Whip him, whip him hard!”

“To go where?” asked the other.

“I do not know, but we must fly!”

And the horse, tingling with blows, galloped off.

At the end of the Passage des Jacobins, which at a sharp angle ended in the Rue de la Harpe, Leridant was obliged to slow up in order to turn on the Place Saint-Michel, and not miss the entrance to the Rue des Fosses-Monsieur-le-Prince.  He turned towards the Rue du Four, hoping, thanks to the steepness of the Rue des Fosses, to distance the detectives and arrive at Caron’s before they caught up with the carriage.

From where he was Georges could not, through the little window, see Caniolle crouched behind the hood.  But he saw others running with all their might.  Destavigny and Petit had indeed continued the pursuit, and their cries brought out all the spies posted in the quarter.  Just as Leridant wildly dashed into the Rue des Fosses, a whole pack of policemen rushed upon him.

At the approach of this whirlwind the frightened passers-by shrank into the shelter of the doorways.  Their minds were so haunted by one idea that at the sight of this cab flying past in the dark with the noise of whips, shouts, oaths, and the resonant clang of the horse’s hoofs on the pavement, a single cry broke forth, “Georges!  Georges! it is Georges!” Anxious faces appeared at the windows, and from every door people came out, who began to run without knowing it, drawn along as by a waterspout.  Did Georges see in this a last hope of safety?  Did he believe he could escape in the crowd?  However that may be, at the top of the Rue Voltaire he jumped out into the street.  Caniolle, at the