It was a hot July day, and Paris should have been half empty, but the pavements were crowded.
"What is the matter ?" I said to Alphonse Giraud, who was too busy with his horse to look about.

"See the faces of the men at the cafes--they are wild with excitement and some look scared.

There is news afoot." "My good friend," returned Giraud, "I was in bed when your note reached me.

Besides, I only read the sporting columns of the papers." So we took train to Passy, without learning what it was that seemed to be stirring Paris as a squall stirs the sea.
At Passy there was indeed grim work awaiting us.

The Prefet himself was kind enough to busy himself in a matter which was scarcely within his province.