would have reached Moret more quickly by the rapide.
"My infant child!" he returned; " the celebrated Latin poet Quintus
Horatius Flaccus has observed, for our edification and behoof, 'Festina lente.'
This epigram has been translated by a famous Spanish author, 'manana.'
Dante adds his testimony to truth in his grandiose outburst, 'Domani.' Also,
an Arab philosopher, whom I personally revere, remarks, if we may trust the
assertion of Sir Richard Francis Burton, K.C.M.G. — and why should we
not? — 'Conceal thy tenets, thy treasure, and thy travelling!' This I do. More
so," he concluded cryptically, "than you imagine!"
They were still waiting for their local funeral (which the French
grandiloquently describe as a train) to start when Dr. Balloch returned radiant
to the Rue Quincampoix.
Douglas was on the alert to receive him. The news took only a second to
communicate.
"Marcel Dufour!" cried S.R.M.D. "We shall drink for him, as he may not
drink on duty."
He carefully opened two bottles of whisky, mixed the stale spirit in the
magic saucer with their contents, and bade Balloch join him at the table.
"Your very good health, Marcel Dufour!" cried Douglas. "And mind you
drive carefully!" [128] Balloch and he now set to work steadily to drain the
two bottles — a stiff nip every minute — but the stuff had no effect on them.
It was far otherwise with the man on the engine.
Almost before he had well left Paris behind him, he began to fret about the
furnace, and told his fireman to keep up the fullest head of steam. At Melun
the train should have slackened speed; instead, it increased it. The signalman
at Fontainebleau was amazed to see the rapide rush through the station, eight
minutes ahead of time, against the signals. He saw the driver grappling with
the fireman, who was thrown from the foot-plate a moment after, but escaped
with a broken leg.
"My mate went suddenly mad," the injured man explained later. "He held
up a five-franc piece which some old gentleman had given him, and  swore
that the devil had promised him another if he made Dijon in two hours. (And,
as you know, it is five, what horror!)."
He grew afraid, saw the signals set at danger, and sprang to the lever. Then
that poor crazed Dufour had thrown him off the train.
The guard was new to that section of the line, and so, no doubt, too timid
to take the initiative; he certainly should have applied the brakes, even at