When Charles Thelin returned with the cabriolet, he found the prince on his knees before a large crucifix, returning thanks for his delivery.
As they drove towards St. Quentin, an old woman who knew Thelin passed them, and afterwards told her friends that she had never before seen him in such disreputable looking company, for she had always regarded the valet to the good prince as a very respectable young man. At St. Quentin the prince walked round the outskirts of the town to the opposite side to that on which he had entered, while the valet drove to the post-house to get a chaise to take them to Valenciennes.
Thelin being a great favourite with Madame Abrai, who kept the inn from which the chaise had to be obtained, had much trouble to get away. She insisted upon his taking some breakfast, and to tempt him, brought out a pie of her own making, which she declared he must taste or never speak to her again. Always ready to improve the occasion, her guest not only ate some, but in a jocular way declared that the pasty was so good that he should steal it and take it with him to eat on the journey. The good soul consenting, it was taken to his highness, who, being very hungry, condescended to finish it.
Owing to the pressure put upon him at the inn, Thelin was so long that the prince feared he had mistaken the rendezvous. As he sat in great suspense on a bank by the roadside, a fussy-looking little gentleman passed and scanned him somewhat narrowly.
“Have you seen a postchaise on the road you have come, sir?” said the prince.
“I have not, sir!” replied the little man, pompously. This was the Procureur du Roi, who would have been charged with the prosecution of the prince if he had been recaptured.
After the postchaise arrived, there were no further adventures until Valenciennes was reached a little before two. The train for Brussels did not leave till four, so for two weary hours the travellers sat together in the waiting room of the station talking over the events of the journey, and wondering how it fared with poor Dr. Conneau, who, although free to walk out of the prison when he liked, had insisted upon remaining to cover their retreat. While they sat there, a gendarme from Ham suddenly appeared, and clapped Thelin on the shoulder. The consternation of the travellers may be easily imagined.