It was the promenade hour.

The water, which still dripped from his clothes and trickled from his shoes, left a conspicuous trail behind; and this alone, without the absence of a hat, would have made him the object of amused and wondering smiles.
A gendarme stared at him, but seeing that he walked straight, said nothing.

Maurice, however, was serenely unaware of what was passing around him.

He did not notice even the tall, broad-shouldered man who, with a gun under his arm, brushed past him, followed by a round-faced German over whose back was slung a game-bag.

The man with the gun was also oblivious of his surroundings.