“No news of Alfred?” asked the voice.

The third person answered:

“Why no. You know very well he is always at the Dépôt.”“Let us set to work!” said voice number one.

Fandor felt that the decisive moment had arrived: someone opened the cover of the trunk, and feverish hands were turning over the confused mass of objects in the top compartment.

“Didn’t you find anything?” the Voice asked Jules.

“No, no, monsieur! I searched everywhere; but as I do not read easily, it’s difficult for me.”

“Imbecile!” murmured the Voice.

Ah! said Fandor to himself. This fellow pleases me!

He has the same opinion of this dolt of a Jules as I have!

Revolver in hand, Fandor was on the alert. The moment they lifted up the compartment out, he would spring. Just then, Madame Bourrat could be heard approaching.

“Confound it! We shan’t have time to go through everything!” muttered the Voice. The trunk cover was hastily closed.

Fandor heard Madame Bourrat enter the room with slow, heavy step.

“Here are ink and paper, messieurs!” she said.

Then the pretended police inspector made a statement that startled the concealed Fandor.

“Madame, we have no time, nor are we able to make a detailed investigation now. Besides, with one exception, there does not seem to be anything suspicious about the room; but here is a trunk which contains papers of great importance. We are going to take it to the police station.”

“As you please,” replied Madame Bourrat. “I ask only one thing, and that is to be left in peace. I do not want to hear anything more about this abominable affair.” A rapid turn of the key given to each of the locks, and Fandor knew that he was now a prisoner! Brave as he was, he felt a rush of blood to his heart and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

Damn it all! I am in an awful position! Impossible to move! If these brutes suspected they had me tight in here they would pitch me into the river as sure as Fate! Then good-bye to La Capitale !