It was his opinion that Miste had been confined in Paris by the siege, and had only just effected his escape, probably with one of the many permits obtained from the American Minister at this time by persons passing themselves as foreigners.
The same evening I received information from an official source that a man answering to my description of Miste had taken a ticket at Waterloo station for Southampton.

The temptation was again too strong for one who had been brought up in an atmosphere and culture of sport.
I set off by the mail train for Southampton, and amused myself by studying the faces of the passengers on the Jersey and Cherbourg boats.

There was no sailing for Havre that night.

At Radley's Hotel, where I had secured a room, I learnt that an old gentleman and lady with their daughter had arrived by the earlier train, and no one else.
At the railway station I could hear of none answering to my description.
If Charles Miste had entered the train at Waterloo station, he had disappeared in his shadowy way en route.
During the stirring months of the close of 1870, men awoke each morning with a certain glad expectancy.

For myself--even in my declining years--the stir of events in the outer world and near at home is preferable to a life of that monotony which I am sure ages quickly those that live it.