the thief at work; but Fossard, putting himself on the defensive, escaped. A window was open near him, and, darting out of it, he fell into the street without injury, and disappeared as swift as lightning.

Another time, whilst he was escaping, he was surprised on the tiles of Bicêtre, and fired at. Fossard, never disconcerted, continued to walk along without stopping or hastening his steps, and getting to that side which looks into the fields, he slid down. The fall was enough to have broken a hundred necks, but he received no hurt; only the slide was so rapid, that his clothes were rent in shreds.