A few bounds carried him across the Avenue de St.Cloud into the plantations stretching to the Allee de la Reine Marguerite.

There the undergrowth was very dense; in the whole Bois there are no more closely set thickets.

In summer they become one vast entanglement of verdure, amidst which, had it been the leafy season, Salvat might well have managed to secrete himself.

For a moment he did find himself alone, and thereupon he halted to listen.

He could neither see nor hear the keepers now.