Before him was a ridge of bundles piled up in uneven rows.

He was going to lose sight of him; a minute later it would be impossible to find him.
The captain hesitated.

"What motive have I for pursuing this unknown person ?..." And just as he was formulating this question, the other one slowed down a little in order to turn his head and see if he were still being followed.
Suddenly a rapid phenomenal transformation took place in Ferragut.

He had not recognized this man's glance when he had almost run into him on the sidewalk of the Cannebiere, and now that there was between the two a distance of some fifty yards, now that the other was fleeing and showing only a fugitive profile, the captain identified him despite the fact that he could not distinguish him clearly at such a distance.
With a sharp click a curtain of his memory seemed to be dashed aside, letting in torrents of light....

It was the counterfeit Russian count, he was sure of that,--shaven and disguised, who undoubtedly was "operating" in Marseilles, directing new services, months after having prepared the entrance of the submersibles into the Mediterranean.
Surprise held Ferragut spellbound.