The Teeth of the Tiger

by Maurice Leblanc

  CHAPTER TWO

  A MAN DEAD

  The declaration was followed by a silence of some length. The Secretaryof the American Embassy and the Peruvian attache had followed theconversation with eager interest. Major d'Astrignac nodded his head withan air of approval. To his mind, Perenna could not be mistaken.

  The Prefect of Police confessed:

  "Certainly, certainly ... we have a number of circumstances here ... thatare fairly ambiguous.... Those brown patches; that doctor.... It's a casethat wants looking into." And, questioning Don Luis Perenna as though inspite of himself, he asked, "No doubt, in your opinion, there is apossible connection between the murder ... and Mr. Mornington's will?"

  "That, Monsieur le Prefet, I cannot tell. If there is, we should have tosuppose that the contents of the will were known. Do you think they canhave leaked out, Maitre Lepertuis?"

  "I don't think so, for Mr. Mornington seemed to behave with greatcaution."

  "And there's no question, is there, of any indiscretion committed inyour office?"

  "By whom? No one handled the will except myself; and I alone have thekey of the safe in which I put away documents of that importanceevery evening."

  "The safe has not been broken into? There has been no burglary atyour office?"

  "No."

  "You saw Cosmo Mornington in the morning?"

  "Yes, on a Friday morning."

  "What did you do with the will until the evening, until you locked itaway up your safe?"

  "I probably put it in the drawer of my desk."

  "And the drawer was not forced?"

  Maitre Lepertuis seemed taken aback and made no reply.

  "Well?" asked Perenna.

  "Well, yes, I remember ... there was something that day ... thatsame Friday."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. When I came in from lunch I noticed that the drawer was not locked,although I had locked it beyond the least doubt. At the time I attachedcomparatively little importance to the incident. To-day, I understand, Iunderstand--"

  Thus, little by little, were all the suppositions conceived by Don Luisverified: suppositions resting, it is true, upon just one or two clues,but yet containing an amount of intuition, of divination, that was reallysurprising in a man who had been present at none of the events betweenwhich he traced the connection so skilfully.

  "We will lose no time, Monsieur," said the Prefect of Police, "inchecking your statements, which you will confess to be a littleventuresome, by the more positive evidence of one of my detectives whohas the case in charge ... and who ought to be here by now."

  "Does his evidence bear upon Cosmo Mornington's heirs?" asked thesolicitor.

  "Upon the heirs principally, because two days ago he telephoned to methat he had collected all the particulars, and also upon the very pointswhich--But wait: I remember that he spoke to my secretary of a murdercommitted a month ago to-day.... Now it's a month to-day since Mr. CosmoMornington--"

  M. Desmalions pressed hard on a bell. His private secretary atonce appeared.

  "Inspector Verot?" asked the Prefect sharply.

  "He's not back yet."

  "Have him fetched! Have him brought here! He must be found at all costsand without delay."

  He turned to Don Luis Perenna.

  "Inspector Verot was here an hour ago, feeling rather unwell, very muchexcited, it seems, and declaring that he was being watched and followed.He said he wanted to make a most important statement to me about theMornington case and to warn the police of two murders which are to becommitted to-night ... and which would be a consequence of the murder ofCosmo Mornington."

  "And he was unwell, you say?"

  "Yes, ill at ease and even very queer and imagining things. By way ofbeing prudent, he left a detailed report on the case for me. Well, thereport is simply a blank sheet of letter-paper.

  "Here is the paper and the envelope in which I found it, and here is acardboard box which he also left behind him. It contains a cake ofchocolate with the marks of teeth on it."

  "May I look at the two things you have mentioned, Monsieur le Prefet?"

  "Yes, but they won't tell you anything."

  "Perhaps so--"

  Don Luis examined at length the cardboard box and the yellow envelope,on which were printed the words, "Cafe du Pont-Neuf." The others awaitedhis words as though they were bound to shed an unexpected light. Hemerely said:

  "The handwriting is not the same on the envelope and the box. The writingon the envelope is less plain, a little shaky, obviously imitated."

  "Which proves--?"

  "Which proves, Monsieur le Prefet, that this yellow envelope does notcome from your detective. I presume that, after writing his report at atable in the Cafe du Pont-Neuf and closing it, he had a moment ofinattention during which somebody substituted for his envelope anotherwith the same address, but containing a blank sheet of paper."

  "That's a supposition!" said the Prefect.

  "Perhaps; but what is certain, Monsieur le Prefet, is that yourinspector's presentiments are well-grounded, that he is being closelywatched, that the discoveries about the Mornington inheritance which hehas succeeded in making are interfering with criminal designs, and thathe is in terrible danger."

  "Come, come!"

  "He must be rescued, Monsieur le Prefet. Ever since the commencement ofthis meeting I have felt persuaded that we are up against an attemptwhich has already begun. I hope that it is not too late and that yourinspector has not been the first victim."

  "My dear sir," exclaimed the Prefect of Police, "you declare all thiswith a conviction which rouses my admiration, but which is not enough toestablish the fact that your fears are justified. Inspector Verot'sreturn will be the best proof."

  "Inspector Verot will not return."

  "But why not?"

  "Because he has returned already. The messenger saw him return."

  "The messenger was dreaming. If you have no proof but that man'sevidence--"

  "I have another proof, Monsieur le Prefet, which Inspector Verot himselfhas left of his presence here: these few, almost illegible letters whichhe scribbled on this memorandum pad, which your secretary did not see himwrite and which have just caught my eye. Look at them. Are they not aproof, a definite proof that he came back?"

  The Prefect did not conceal his perturbation. The others all seemedimpressed. The secretary's return but increased their apprehensions:nobody had seen Inspector Verot.

  "Monsieur le Prefet," said Don Luis, "I earnestly beg you to have theoffice messenger in."

  And, as soon as the messenger was there, he asked him, without evenwaiting for M. Desmalions to speak:

  "Are you sure that Inspector Verot entered this room a second time?"

  "Absolutely sure."

  "And that he did not go out again?"

  "Absolutely sure."

  "And your attention was not distracted for a moment?"

  "Not for a moment."

  "There, Monsieur, you see!" cried the Prefect. "If Inspector Verot werehere, we should know it."

  "He is here, Monsieur le Prefet."

  "What!"

  "Excuse my obstinacy, Monsieur le Prefet, but I say that, when some oneenters a room and does not go out again, he is still in that room."

  "Hiding?" said M. Desmalions, who was growing more and more irritated.

  "No, but fainting, ill--dead, perhaps."

  "But where, hang it all?"

  "Behind that screen."

  "There's nothing behind that screen, nothing but a door."

  "And that door--?"

  "Leads to a dressing-room."

  "Well, Monsieur le Prefet, Inspector Verot, tottering, losing his head,imagining himself to be going from your office to your secretary's room,fell into your dressing-room."

  M. Desmalions ran to the door, but, at the moment of opening it, shrankback. Was it apprehension, the wish to withdraw himself from theinfluence of that astonishing man, who gave his orders with suchauthority and who
seemed to command events themselves?

  Don Luis stood waiting imperturbably, in a deferential attitude.

  "I cannot believe--" said M. Desmalions.

  "Monsieur le Prefet, I would remind you that Inspector Verot'srevelations may save the lives of two persons who are doomed to dieto-night. Every minute lost is irreparable."

  M. Desmalions shrugged his shoulders. But that man mastered him with thepower of his conviction; and the Prefect opened the door.

  He did not make a movement, did not utter a cry. He simply muttered:

  "Oh, is it possible!--"

  By the pale gleam of light that entered through a ground-glass windowthey saw the body of a man lying on the floor.

  "The inspector! Inspector Verot!" gasped the office messenger,running forward.

  He and the secretary raised the body and placed it in an armchair in thePrefect's office.

  Inspector Verot was still alive, but so little alive that they couldscarcely hear the beating of his heart. A drop of saliva trickled fromthe corner of his mouth. His eyes were devoid of all expression. However,certain muscles of the face kept moving, perhaps with the effort of awill that seemed to linger almost beyond life.

  Don Luis muttered:

  "Look, Monsieur le Prefet--the brown patches!"

  The same dread unnerved all. They began to ring bells and open doors andcall for help.

  "Send for the doctor!" ordered M. Desmalions. "Tell them to bring adoctor, the first that comes--and a priest. We can't let the poor man--"

  Don Luis raised his arm to demand silence.

  "There is nothing more to be done," he said. "We shall do better tomake the most of these last moments. Have I your permission, Monsieurle Prefet?"

  He bent over the dying man, laid the swaying head against the back of thechair, and, in a very gentle voice, whispered:

  "Verot, it's Monsieur le Prefet speaking to you. We should like a fewparticulars about what is to take place to-night. Do you hear me, Verot?If you hear me, close your eyelids."

  The eyelids were lowered. But was it not merely chance? Don Luis went on:

  "You have found the heirs of the Roussel sisters, that much we know; andit is two of those heirs who are threatened with death. The double murderis to be committed to-night. But what we do not know is the name of thoseheirs, who are doubtless not called Roussel. You must tell us the name.

  "Listen to me: you wrote on a memorandum pad three letters which seem toform the syllable Fau.... Am I right? Is this the first syllable of aname? Which is the next letter after those three? Close your eyes when Imention the right letter. Is it 'b?' Is it 'c?'"

  But there was now not a flicker in the inspector's pallid face. The headdropped heavily on the chest. Verot gave two or three sighs, his frameshook with one great shiver, and he moved no more.

  He was dead.

  The tragic scene had been enacted so swiftly that the men who wereits shuddering spectators remained for a moment confounded. Thesolicitor made the sign of the cross and went down on his knees. ThePrefect murmured:

  "Poor Verot!... He was a good man, who thought only of the service, ofhis duty. Instead of going and getting himself seen to--and who knows?Perhaps he might have been saved--he came back here in the hope ofcommunicating his secret. Poor Verot!--"

  "Was he married? Are there any children?" asked Don Luis.

  "He leaves a wife and three children," replied the Prefect.

  "I will look after them," said Don Luis simply.

  Then, when they brought a doctor and when M. Desmalions gave orders forthe corpse to be carried to another room, Don Luis took the doctoraside and said:

  "There is no doubt that Inspector Verot was poisoned. Look at hiswrist: you will see the mark of a puncture with a ring of inflammationround it."

  "Then he was pricked in that place?"

  "Yes, with a pin or the point of a pen; and not as violently as they mayhave wished, because death did not ensue until some hours later."

  The messengers removed the corpse; and soon there was no one left in theoffice except the five people whom the Prefect had originally sent for.The American Secretary of Embassy and the Peruvian attache, consideringtheir continued presence unnecessary, went away, after warmlycomplimenting Don Luis Perenna on his powers of penetration.

  Next came the turn of Major d'Astrignac, who shook his former subordinateby the hand with obvious affection. And Maitre Lepertais and Perenna,having fixed an appointment for the payment of the legacy, werethemselves on the point of leaving, when M. Desmalions entered briskly.

  "Ah, so you're still here, Don Luis Perenna! I'm glad of that. I have anidea: those three letters which you say you made out on thewriting-table, are you sure they form the syllable Fau?"

  "I think so, Monsieur le Prefet. See for yourself: are not these an 'F,'an 'A' and a 'U?' And observe that the 'F' is a capital, which made mesuspect that the letters are the first syllable of a proper name."

  "Just so, just so," said M. Desmalions. "Well, curiously enough, thatsyllable happens to be--But wait, we'll verify our facts--"

  M. Desmalions searched hurriedly among the letters which his secretaryhad handed him on his arrival and which lay on a corner of the table.

  "Ah, here we are!" he exclaimed, glancing at the signature of one of theletters. "Here we are! It's as I thought: 'Fauville.' ... The firstsyllable is the same.... Look, 'Fauville,' just like that, withoutChristian name or initials. The letter must have been written in afeverish moment: there is no date nor address.... The writing is shaky--"

  And M. Desmalions read out:

  "MONSIEUR LE PREFET:

  "A great danger is hanging over my head and over the head of my son.Death is approaching apace. I shall have to-night, or to-morrow morningat the latest, the proofs of the abominable plot that threatens us. I askleave to bring them to you in the course of the morning. I am in need ofprotection and I call for your assistance.

  "Permit me to be, etc. FAUVILLE."

  "No other designation?" asked Perenna. "No letter-heading?"

  "None. But there is no mistake. Inspector Verot's declarations agree tooevidently with this despairing appeal. It is clearly M. Fauville and hisson who are to be murdered to-night. And the terrible thing is that, asthis name of Fauville is a very common one, it is impossible for ourinquiries to succeed in time."

  "What, Monsieur le Prefet? Surely, by straining every nerve--"

  "Certainly, we will strain every nerve; and I shall set all my men towork. But observe that we have not the slightest clue."

  "Oh, it would be awful!" cried Don Luis. "Those two creatures doomed todeath; and we unable to save them! Monsieur le Prefet, I ask you toauthorize me--"

  He had not finished speaking when the Prefect's private secretary enteredwith a visiting-card in his hand.

  "Monsieur le Prefet, this caller was so persistent.... I hesitated--"

  M. Desmalions took the card and uttered an exclamation of mingledsurprise and joy.

  "Look, Monsieur," he said to Perenna.

  And he handed him the card.

  _Hippolyte Fauville, Civil Engineer.14 bis Boulevard Suchet._

  "Come," said M. Desmalions, "chance is favouring us. If this M. Fauvilleis one of the Roussel heirs, our task becomes very much easier."

  "In any case, Monsieur le Prefet," the solicitor interposed, "I mustremind you that one of the clauses of the will stipulates that it shallnot be read until forty-eight hours have elapsed. M. Fauville, therefore,must not be informed--"

  The door was pushed open and a man hustled the messenger aside andrushed in.

  "Inspector ... Inspector Verot?" he spluttered. "He's dead, isn't he? Iwas told--"

  "Yes, Monsieur, he is dead."

  "Too late! I'm too late!" he stammered.

  And he sank into a chair, clasping his hands and sobbing:

  "Oh, the scoundrels! the scoundrels!"

  He was a pale, hollow-cheeked, sickly looking man of about fifty.His head was bald, above a for
ehead lined with deep wrinkles. Anervous twitching affected his chin and the lobes of his ears. Tearsstood in his eyes.

  The Prefect asked:

  "Whom do you mean, Monsieur? Inspector Verot's murderers? Are you able toname them, to assist our inquiry?"

  Hippolyte Fauville shook his head.

  "No, no, it would be useless, for the moment.... My proofs would not besufficient.... No, really not."

  He had already risen from his chair and stood apologizing:

  "Monsieur le Prefet, I have disturbed you unnecessarily, but I wanted toknow.... I was hoping that Inspector Verot might have escaped.... Hisevidence, joined to mine, would have been invaluable. But perhaps he wasable to tell you?"

  "No, he spoke of this evening--of to-night--"

  Hippolyte Fauville started.

  "This evening! Then the time has come!... But no, it's impossible, theycan't do anything to me yet.... They are not ready--"

  "Inspector Verot declared, however, that the double murder would becommitted to-night."

  "No, Monsieur le Prefet, he was wrong there.... I know all aboutit.... To-morrow evening at the earliest ... and we will catch them in atrap.... Oh, the scoundrels!"

  Don Luis went up to him and asked:

  "Your mother's name was Ermeline Roussel, was it not?"

  "Yes, Ermeline Roussel. She is dead now."

  "And she was from Saint-Etienne?"

  "Yes. But why these questions?"

  "Monsieur le Prefet will tell you to-morrow. One word more." He openedthe cardboard box left by Inspector Verot. "Does this cake of chocolatemean anything to you? These marks?"

  "Oh, how awful!" said the civil engineer, in a hoarse tone. "Where didthe inspector find it?"

  He dropped into his chair again, but only for a moment; then, drawinghimself up, he hurried toward the door with a jerky step.

  "I'm going, Monsieur le Prefet, I'm going. To-morrow morning I'll showyou.... I shall have all the proofs.... And the police will protectme.... I am ill, I know, but I want to live! I have the right tolive ... and my son, too.... And we will live.... Oh, the scoundrels!--"

  And he ran, stumbling out, like a drunken man.

  M. Desmalions rose hastily.

  "I shall have inquiries made about that man's circumstances.... I shallhave his house watched. I've telephoned to the detective office already.I'm expecting some one in whom I have every confidence."

  Don Luis said:

  "Monsieur le Prefet, I beg you, with an earnestness which you willunderstand, to authorize me to pursue the investigation. CosmoMornington's will makes it my duty and, allow me to say, gives me theright to do so. M. Fauville's enemies have given proofs of extraordinarycleverness and daring. I want to have the honour of being at the post ofdanger to-night, at M. Fauville's house, near his person."

  The Prefect hesitated. He was bound to reflect how greatly to Don LuisPerenna's interest it was that none of the Mornington heirs should bediscovered, or at least be able to come between him and the millionsof the inheritance. Was it safe to attribute to a noble sentiment ofgratitude, to a lofty conception of friendship and duty, that strangelonging to protect Hippolyte Fauville against the death thatthreatened him?

  For some seconds M. Desmalions watched that resolute face, thoseintelligent eyes, at once innocent and satirical, grave and smiling, eyesthrough which you could certainly not penetrate their owner's bafflingindividuality, but which nevertheless looked at you with an expression ofabsolute frankness and sincerity. Then he called his secretary:

  "Has any one come from the detective office?"

  "Yes, Monsieur le Prefet; Sergeant Mazeroux is here."

  "Please have him shown in."

  And, turning to Perenna:

  "Sergeant Mazeroux is one of our smartest detectives. I used to employhim together with that poor Verot when I wanted any one more thanordinarily active and sharp. He will be of great use to you."

  * * * * *

  Sergeant Mazeroux entered. He was a short, lean, wiry man, whose droopingmoustache, heavy eyelids, watery eyes and long, lank hair gave him a mostdoleful appearance.

  "Mazeroux," said the Prefect, "you will have heard, by this time, of yourcomrade Verot's death and of the horrible circumstances attending it. Wemust now avenge him and prevent further crimes. This gentleman, who knowsthe case from end to end, will explain all that is necessary. You willwork with him and report to me to-morrow morning."

  This meant giving a free hand to Don Luis Perenna and relying on hispower of initiative and his perspicacity. Don Luis bowed:

  "I thank you, Monsieur le Prefet. I hope that you will have no reason toregret the trust which you are good enough to place in me."

  And, taking leave of M. Desmalions and Maitre Lepertuis, he went out withSergeant Mazeroux.

  As soon as they were outside, he told Mazeroux what he knew. Thedetective seemed much impressed by his companion's professional gifts andquite ready to be guided by his views.

  They decided first to go to the Cafe du Pont-Neuf. Here they learned thatInspector Verot, who was a regular customer of the place, had written along letter there that morning. And the waiter remembered that a man atthe next table, who had entered the cafe at almost the same time as theinspector, had also asked for writing-paper and called twice for yellowenvelopes.

  "That's it," said Mazeroux to Don Luis. "As you suspected, one letter hasbeen substituted for the other."

  The description given by the waiter was pretty explicit: a tall man, witha slight stoop, wearing a reddish-brown beard cut into a point, atortoise-shell eyeglass with a black silk ribbon, and an ebonywalking-stick with a handle shaped like a swan's head.

  "That's something for the police to go upon," said Mazeroux.

  They were leaving the cafe when Don Luis stopped his companion.

  "One moment."

  "What's the matter?"

  "We've been followed."

  "Followed? What next? And by whom, pray?"

  "No one that matters. I know who it is and I may as well settle hisbusiness and have done with it. Wait for me. I shall be back; and I'llshow you some fun. You shall see one of the 'nuts,' I promise you."

  He returned in a minute with a tall, thin man with his face set inwhiskers. He introduced him:

  "M. Mazeroux, a friend of mine, Senor Caceres, an attache at the PeruvianLegation. Senor Caceres took part in the interview at the Prefect's justnow. It was he who, on the Peruvian Minister's instructions, collectedthe documents bearing upon my identity." And he added gayly: "So you werelooking for me, dear Senor Caceres. Indeed, I expected, when we left thepolice office--"

  The Peruvian attache made a sign and pointed to Sergeant Mazeroux.Perenna replied:

  "Oh, pray don't mind M. Mazeroux! You can speak before him; he is thesoul of discretion. Besides, he knows all about the business."

  The attache was silent. Perenna made him sit down in front of him.

  "Speak without beating about the bush, dear Senor Caceres. It's a subjectthat calls for plain dealing; and I don't mind a blunt word or two. Itsaves such a lot of time! Come on. You want money, I suppose? Or, rather,more money. How much?"

  The Peruvian had a final hesitation, gave a glance at Don Luis'scompanion, and then, suddenly making up his mind, said in a dull voice:

  "Fifty thousand francs!"

  "Oh, by Jove, by Jove!" cried Don Luis. "You're greedy, you know! What doyou say, M. Mazeroux? Fifty thousand francs is a lot of money. Especiallyas--Look here, my dear Caceres, let's go over the ground again.

  "Three years ago I had the honour of making your acquaintance in Algeria,when you were touring the country. At the same time, I understood thesort of man you were; and I asked you if you could manage, in threeyears, with my name of Perenna, to fix me up a Spanish-Peruvian identity,furnished with unquestionable papers and respectable ancestors. You said,'Yes,' We settled the price: twenty thousand francs. Last week, when thePrefect of Police asked me for my papers, I came to se
e you and learnedthat you had just been instructed to make inquiries into my antecedents.

  "Everything was ready, as it happened. With the papers of a deceasedPeruvian nobleman, of the name of Pereira, properly revised, you hadfaked me up a first-rate civic status. We arranged what you were to saybefore the Prefect of Police; and I paid up the twenty thousand. We werequits. What more do you want?"

  The Pervian attache did not betray the least embarrassment. He put histwo elbows on the table and said, very calmly:

  "Monsieur, when treating with you, three years ago, I thought I wasdealing with a gentleman who, hiding himself under the uniform of theForeign Legion, wished to recover the means to live respectablyafterward. To-day, I have to do with the universal legatee of CosmoMornington, with a man who, to-morrow, under a false name, will receivethe sum of one million francs and, in a few months, perhaps, the sum of ahundred millions. That's quite a different thing."

  The argument seemed to strike Don Luis. Nevertheless, he objected:

  "And, if I refuse--?"

  "If you refuse, I shall inform the solicitor and the Prefect of Policethat I made an error in my inquiry and that there is some mistake aboutDon Luis Perenna. In consequence of which you will receive nothing at alland very likely find yourself in jail."

  "With you, my worthy sir."

  "Me?"

  "Of course: on a charge of forgery and tampering with registers. For youdon't imagine that I should take it lying down."

  The attache did not reply. His nose, which was a very big one, seemed tolengthen out still farther between his two long whiskers.

  Don Luis began to laugh.

  "Come, Senor Caceres, don't pull such a face! No one's going to hurt you.Only don't think that you can corner me. Better men than you have triedand have broken their backs in the process. And, upon my word, you don'tcut much of a figure when you're doing your best to diddle yourfellowmen.

  "You look a bit of a mug, in fact, Caceres: a bit of a mug is what youlook. So it's understood, what? We lay down our arms. No more basedesigns against our excellent friend Perenna. Capital, Senor Caceres,capital. And now I'll be magnanimous and prove to you that the decent manof us two is--the one whom any one would have thought!"

  He produced a check-book on the Credit Lyonnais.

  "Here, my dear chap. Here's twenty thousand francs as a present fromCosmo Mornington's legatee. Put it in your pocket and look pleasant. Saythank you to the kind gentleman, and make yourself scarce without turningyour head any more than if you were one of old man Lot's daughters. Offyou go: hoosh!"

  This was said in such a manner that the attache obeyed Don Luis Perenna'sinjunctions to the letter. He smiled as he pocketed the check, said thankyou twice over, and made off without turning his head.

  "The low hound!" muttered Don Luis. "What do you say to that, Sergeant?"

  Sergeant Mazeroux was looking at him in stupefaction, with his eyesstarting from his head.

  "Well, but, Monsieur--"

  "What, Sergeant?"

  "Well, but, Monsieur, who are you?"

  "Who am I?"

  "Yes."

  "Didn't they tell you? A Peruvian nobleman, or a Spanish nobleman, Idon't know which. In short, Don Luis Perenna."

  "Bunkum! I've just heard--"

  "Don Luis Perenna, late of the Foreign Legion."

  "Enough of that, Monsieur--"

  "Medaled and decorated with a stripe on every seam."

  "Once more, Monsieur, enough of that; and come along with me tothe Prefect."

  "But, let me finish, hang it! I was saying, late private in the ForeignLegion.... Late hero.... Late prisoner of the Surete.... Late Russianprince.... Late chief of the detective service.... Late--"

  "But you're mad!" snarled the sergeant. "What's all this story?"

  "It's a true story, Sergeant, and quite genuine. You ask me who I am; andI'm telling you categorically. Must I go farther back? I have still moretitles to offer you: marquis, baron, duke, archduke, grand-duke,petty-duke, superduke--the whole 'Almanach de Gotha,' by Jingo! If anyone told me that I had been a king, by all that's holy, I shouldn't dareswear to the contrary!"

  Sergeant Mazeroux put out his own hands, accustomed to rough work, seizedthe seemingly frail wrists of the man addressing him and said:

  "No nonsense, now. I don't know whom I've got hold of, but I shan't letyou go. You can say what you have to say at the Prefect's."

  "Don't speak so loud, Alexandre."

  The two frail wrists were released with unparalleled ease; the sergeant'spowerful hands were caught and rendered useless; and Don Luis grinned:

  "Don't you know me, you idiot?"

  Sergeant Mazeroux did not utter a word. His eyes started still fartherfrom his head. He tried to understand and remained absolutely dumfounded.

  The sound of that voice, that way of jesting, that schoolboy playfulnessallied with that audacity, the quizzing expression of those eyes, andlastly that Christian name of Alexandre, which was not his name at alland which only one person used to give him, years ago. Was it possible?

  "The chief!" he stammered. "The chief!"

  "Why not?"

  "No, no, because--"

  "Because what?"

  "Because you're dead."

  "Well, what about it? D'you think it interferes with my living,being dead?"

  And, as the other seemed more and more perplexed, he laid his hand on hisshoulder and said:

  "Who put you into the police office?"

  "The Chief Detective, M. Lenormand."

  "And who was M. Lenormand?"

  "The chief."

  "You mean Arsene Lupin, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, Alexandre, don't you know that it was much more difficult forArsene Lupin to be Chief Detective--and a masterly Chief Detective hewas--than to be Don Luis Perenna, to be decorated in the Foreign Legion,to be a hero, and even to be alive after he was dead?"

  Sergeant Mazeroux examined his companion in silence. Then his lacklustreeyes brightened, his drab features turned scarlet and, suddenly strikingthe table with his fist, he growled, in an angry voice:

  "All right, very well! But I warn you that you mustn't reckon on me. No,not that! I'm in the detective service; and in the detective service Iremain. Nothing doing. I've tasted honesty and I mean to eat no otherbread. No, no, no, no! No more humbug!"

  Perenna shrugged his shoulders:

  "Alexandre, you're an ass. Upon my word, the bread of honesty hasn'tenlarged your intelligence. Who talked of starting again?"

  "But--"

  "But what?"

  "All your maneuvers, Chief."

  "My maneuvers! Do you think I have anything to say to this business?"

  "Look here, Chief--"

  "Why, I'm out of it altogether, my lad! Two hours ago I knew no moreabout it than you do. It's Providence that chucked this legacy at me,without so much as shouting, 'Heads!' And it's in obedience to thedecrees of--"

  "Then--?"

  "It's my mission in life to avenge Cosmo Mornington, to find his naturalheirs, to protect them and to divide among them the hundred millionsthat belong to them. That's all. Don't you call that the mission of anhonest man?"

  "Yes, but--"

  "Yes, but, if I don't fulfil it as an honest man: is that what you mean?"

  "Chief--"

  "Well, my lad, if you notice the least thing in my conduct thatdissatisfies you, if you discover a speck of black on Don Luis Perenna'sconscience, examined under the magnifying glass, don't hesitate: collarme with both hands. I authorize you to do it. I order you to do it. Isthat enough for you?"

  "It's not enough for it to be enough for me, Chief."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "There are the others."

  "Explain yourself."

  "Suppose you're nabbed?"

  "How?"

  "You can be betrayed."

  "By whom?"

  "Your old mates."

  "Gone away. I've sent them out of
France."

  "Where to?"

  "That's my secret. I left you at the police office, in case I shouldrequire your services; and you see that I was right."

  "But suppose the police discover your real identity?"

  "Well?"

  "They'll arrest you."

  "Impossible!"

  "Why?"

  "They can't arrest me."

  "For what reason?"

  "You've said it yourself, fat-head: a first-class, tremendous,indisputable reason."

  "What do you mean?"

  "_I'm dead_!"

  Mazeroux seemed staggered. The argument struck him fully. He at onceperceived it, with all its common sense and all its absurdity. Andsuddenly he burst into a roar of laughter which bent him in two andconvulsed his doleful features in the oddest fashion:

  "Oh, Chief, just the same as always!... Lord, how funny!... Will I comealong? I should think I would! As often as you like! You're dead andburied and put out of sight!... Oh, what a joke, what a joke!"

  * * * * *

  Hippolyte Fauville, civil engineer, lived on the Boulevard Suchet, nearthe fortifications, in a fair-sized private house having on its left asmall garden in which he had built a large room that served as his study.The garden was thus reduced to a few trees and to a strip of grass alongthe railings, which were covered with ivy and contained a gate thatopened on the Boulevard Suchet.

  Don Luis Perenna went with Mazeroux to the commissary's office at Passy,where Mazeroux, on Perenna's instructions, gave his name and asked tohave M. Fauville's house watched during the night by two policemen whowere to arrest any suspicious person trying to obtain admission. Thecommissary agreed to the request.

  Don Luis and Mazeroux next dined in the neighbourhood. At nine o'clockthey reached the front door of the house.

  "Alexandre," said Perenna.

  "Yes, Chief?"

  "You're not afraid?"

  "No, Chief. Why should I be?"

  "Why? Because, in defending M. Fauville and his son, we are attackingpeople who have a great interest in doing away with them and becausethose people seem pretty wide-awake. Your life, my life: a breath, atrifle. You're not afraid?"

  "Chief," replied Mazeroux, "I can't say if I shall ever know what itmeans to be afraid. But there's one case in which I certainly shallnever know."

  "What case is that, old chap?"

  "As long as I'm by your side, Chief."

  And firmly he rang the bell.