casually into the thicket, following the direction taken by the first four.
"Where are you going?" called the Prefect's chauffeur, himself a policeman.
"I am going to where I can listen in case they need our help," I answered shortly, and kept on, leaving him dissatisfied but not knowing just what to do about it. Once out of sight I broke into a run, skirting the wall until I came to where it turned at right angles to enclose the lower extremity of the park. This wall I followed along until I came to what I was looking for, and that was a small door in the rear, opening on a path which led down through the woods to the bank of the Seine.
This was the way that Chu-Chu would certainly come if he broke through the slight cordon. I no more believed that the old Prefect and his six men would be able to round up and capture Chu-Chu than that they could have surrounded a wolf in a patch of bruyère and caught him by the tail. Chu-Chu was not the ordinary house-rat—he was big game—a hunter and lion-killer, and his instincts were those of a wild animal. Something told me that when he broke from his lair it would be for the thickest part of the park and toward the river; in fact, there was no other way to go, as the open highway was in front and the ground more or less open on each side of the estate.
If the police managed to stop him, so much the better, as in that case he would be dead. If he broke through, then it was up to me to stop him myself. And that is what I was there for. So, when I came to the little door of oak and iron, I made a
