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Updated: June 7, 2025
The express was entering the tunnels pierced in the precipitous coastline of the Channel near Dover. There was a short stop at Dover Town station before it drew up on the Pier. There the travellers would embark. Of these there were two distant streams: those crossing to Belgium: those bound for France. Butler-Vinson still slept soundly. Juve was waiting till the last minute.
Unfortunate Butler-Vinson, lulled by the regular movement of the train, was soon fast asleep. Juve and Loreuil kept vigil. They were sitting side by side facing their captive. "Dover will be the difficulty," whispered Juve, who had drawn closer to the captain. "Yes, that is the crucial point," agreed Loreuil....
Then he would awaken his prisoner as he already considered him and shepherd him aboard the Calais boat. Captain Loreuil got out and went on ahead. "Come along, Butler!" Juve cried suddenly. He shook the slumbering traitor sharply. Butler-Vinson leaped to his feet with frightened eyes and gaping mouth. "What is it?" he stuttered. "What do you want with me?"
Besides, he could not be brought to consider that to arrest criminals came within the scope of his duties: to mark them down, point them out, yes. Thus he had tracked down the traitor and left him in good hands. Meanwhile, Butler-Vinson was suffering from a severe attack of sea-sickness. His head seemed splitting with throbbing pain.
Juve considered the miserable heap collapsed on a side bench: this traitorous rag of humanity had once been an upright man a true soldier of France! It was terrible! It was piteous! Juve raised Butler-Vinson. The wretched fellow could hardly stand up. Juve signed to a sailor, who took the corporal's left arm while Juve supported him on the right. Vinson disembarked.
The vagaries of the steamer would further distract what thoughts he was capable of. Still, they were on an English boat, and should the corporal grasp what was happening and refuse to disembark, Juve would be in a fix. Butler-Vinson must be kept in ignorance of the truth till they were on French soil. Captain Loreuil had remained at Dover, declaring he still had much to do in England.
It is the Victoria that goes to Calais: we go to Ostend with the Empress." Butler-Vinson accepted this statement as true. An ear-piercing whistle sounded; the cables were drawn up: a vibratory motion told the passengers they were off. The mast-head light was extinguished: the mail-boat silently made its way out to sea. There was a dense fog in the Channel. The fog-horn sounded its lugubrious note.
He set his feet on the soil the sacred soil of France! The crowd was pouring into the great hall, where customs officers were examining the small baggage. Juve drew Butler-Vinson to the left: the traitor must not catch sight of the French uniforms. An individual seemed to rise out of the ground in front of them: Juve said to him in a low voice: "Our man!"
All that mattered to Butler-Vinson for the moment was he had to reach his new quarters by crossing the rue Cherche-Midi between two jailors.... He would be exposed to the curious glances of the public! He shuddered at the thought!... And there was worse to come!
Juve's smile was a masterpiece of hypocrisy. "Why, old fellow, you must wake up! We must go aboard our boat!" The corporal heard men shouting: "Steamer Victoria for Ostend! Steamer Empress for Calais!" "We must hurry!" cried Juve, pushing the bemused Butler-Vinson out of the compartment. There was a sea fog growing denser every minute.
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