CHAPTER XXVII.
The Hand of God "Chacun ne comprend que ce qu'il retrouve en soi." Mr.Sander only made a mistake common to Englishmen when he underrated the capacity of his neighbour.

Hearing from his colleague in Nice that Miste had left that city for St.Martin Lantosque, with us upon his heels, Sander concluded that our quarry would escape us, and with great promptitude set forth to Cuneo to await his arrival there.
Before leaving Genoa, however, my agent took steps to ensure the transmission of his correspondence, and a telegram despatched by Giraud from St.Martin, after my departure thence, duly reached the addressee at Cuneo.

On arriving, therefore, at Genoa, and going to the Hotel de Genes there, I found, not Mr.Sander, but a telegraphic message from him bidding me await his return.
"At what time," I asked the waiter, "arrives the next train from Cuneo ?" "At eight o'clock, signor." I looked at the clock.

It was now seven.
"There is a steamer sailing this evening for South America," I said.
"Yes, signor; with many passengers from this hotel." "At what time ?" "At seven o'clock--even now." A minute later I was driving down to the docks--my swimming head full of half-matured ideas of bribing some one to delay the steamer.

Then came the blessed reflection that, in the absence of Miste, his confederate would certainly not depart alone.