It went in by an old gate in the wall, which was called the Cart Gate.
The street of the same name, a street in the poor suburb, was narrow and the houses low; it was paved with cobbles. A little farther along several lanes formed a crossroads.
This was a quarter of brothels and of gipsies who made baskets.
When he reached the crossroads, in the narrowest part there was a cart blocking the street. The automobile stopped.
“What’s the matter?” asked Cæsar, standing up.
At that moment two shots rang out, and Cæsar fell wounded into the bottom of the car. The chauffeur saw that the discharges came from the low windows of a loom, and backing the motor, he returned rapidly, passed out the Cart Gate, at risk of running into it, went down to the highway, and drove at high speed to Cæsar’s house.
A moment later “Driveller” Juan and “Sparkler” came out of the loom and disappeared down a lane. The judge who went to take depositions learned from the chauffeur that Cæsar had received a letter as he was getting into the car. He had the wounded man’s clothes searched, and they found “The Cub-Slut’s” letter, in which she warned Cæsar of the danger he was in. Fate had kept Cæsar from reading it.
THE RED FLAG
The news that Cæsar was seriously wounded ran through the town like a train of powder.