He was on the point of shutting the door in the face of his pursuer, but Fandor had foreseen this. He slipped through with a forceful push and caught the navvy by his jacket. Quick as lightning the navvy turned, and the two men stood face to face... The result was startling Speechless they stared at each other for what seemed an interminable moment; then, with a strangled cry, Fandor fell into the man’s arms, and was crushed in a strong embrace. Two cries escaped from their lips at the same moment:

“Juve!”

“Fandor!”

When he came to himself again, Fandor found he was lying in one of the comfortable leather arm-chairs in Juve’s study. His temples and the lobes of his ears were being bathed with some refreshing liquid : the commingled scent of ether and eau-de-Cologne was in the air.

When he opened his eyes, it was with difficulty that he could credit the sight that met them.

Juve, his dear Juve, was bending over him, gazing at him tenderly, watching his return to consciousness with some anxiety.

Fandor vainly strove to rise: he felt dazed.

“Fandor!” murmured Juve, in a voice trembling with emotion. “Fandor, my little Fandor. My lad, my own dear lad!” Oh, yes, this was Juve, his own Juve, whom Fandor saw before him! He had aged a little, this dear Juve of his – had gone slightly grey at the temples: there were some fresh lines on his forehead, at the corners of his mouth too; but it was the Juve of old times, for all that!... Juve, alert, supple, robust, Juve in his full vigour, in the prime of life! Oh, a living, breathing, fatherly Juve: his respected master and most intimate friend – restored to him, after mourning his irreparable loss and his incomprehensible disappearance!

While Fandor slowly came to himself, Juve had lessened the disordered state of his appearance; he had taken off his workman’s clothes and also the red beard which he had worn when he ran up against the journalist in the place de l’Opéra.

As soon as Fandor was himself again, not only did he feel intense joy, a quite wild joy, but he also knew the goad of a keen curiosity. Now he would know why the detective had felt obliged to disappear, officially at any rate, from Paris life for so long a period.

Protestations of faithful attachment, of inalterable affection poured from Fandor’s excited lips, intermingled with questions: he wanted to know everything at once.

Juve smiled in silence and gazed most affectionately at his dear lad.

At last he said:

“I am not going to ask you for your news, Fandor, for I have seen you repeatedly, and I know you are quite all right... Why, I do believe you have put on a little weight!” Juve was smiling that enigmatic smile of his!