“You Fandor! You arrested!... But am I going mad?” The journalist had been taken from his cell at eight in the morning, and had been conducted to the office of the Public Prosecutor. Here, the acting magistrate, in conformity with the law, wished to put him through the examination which would establish his identity. All arrested persons have to submit to this interrogation within twenty-four hours of their arrival at the Dépôt.

Jérôme Fandor had given his name at once, and, in order to prove the truth of his statements, he had asked that Monsieur Fuselier should be sent for, so that the magistrate might vouch for his identity and say a word in his favour.

Monsieur Fuselier had hastened to the Dépôt, had taken Fandor to his office, and had anxiously questioned him. Why, he asked, had the police been obliged to arrest him for drunkenness in the open thoroughfare?

When Fandor had concluded his statement, the magistrate exclaimed:

“Your ruse is inconceivable!... I must compliment you highly on your ability and your detective gifts!”

“I wish I could agree with you,” replied Fandor in a depressed tone. “But inn spite of everything, I have not got into communication with Jules. But, Monsieur Fuselier, have you interrogated him yet?”

The magistrate shook his head.

“Alas, my poor friend, you have no idea of the extraordinary events of the past night; evidently, notwithstanding the fact that you played a passive part, in them!” “I played a part?... Extraordinary events? What the devil do you mean?”

“I mean, dear Fandor, that all Paris is laughing over it. The police have been tricked! You have been tricked! Did you not tell me, just now, that your prison van had had an accident? Do you know what really happened?”

“I ask you to tell me.”

“Your vehicle was run into by a motor-car. The driver was extremely clumsy... or very capable!”

“What’s that?” Fandor leaned forward, keen as a gun-dog on the scent.

“It was like this,” replied Monsieur Fuselier. “Your van was very badly knocked about by the collision. The driver could not possibly repair it single-handed. He telephoned to Headquarters. Help was sent at once, and he had orders to drive to the Dépôt as soon as he could: he was not to trouble about the boulevard Exelmans station; that, for once, could be cleared the following morning.

Unfortunately the telephone messages and replies had taken up a certain amount of time. When they telephoned to the boulevard Exelmans station, from Headquarters, to warn them not to expect the damaged van, the Dépôt man who was telephoning was extremely surprised to hear that the van had already passed onto the Auteuil station and had taken away the arrested individuals there, notably this famous Jules!”

“I never gambled on this!” cried Fandor.