considerable crowd had flocked
to the scene of the accident; but barriers had been quickly erected, and
the crowd, directed by the police, were able to circulate in orderly
fashion when Fandor arrived on the scene.

The agile young journalist had made his way to the front row of the
curious, and was bent on entering the stone and wood yards of the works
forbidden to the public; the usual palisade no longer existed owing to
the landslip.

Just as he was searching in his pocket for the precious identification
card, which the police grant to the reporters connected with the big
newspapers, Fandor was jostled by an individual coming out of the yards.
It was a navvy all covered with mortar, white dust, and mud; he was
without a hat and held his right hand pressed against his cheek; between
his fingers there filtered a few drops of blood.

The glances of the man and the journalist met, and Fandor felt as though
someone had struck him a blow on the heart! The navvy had given him so
strange a look. Fandor thought he had read in his eyes a threat and an
invitation.

Whilst our journalist hesitated, troubled by this sudden encounter, the
man moved off, forcing his way through the crowd. Then Fandor caught
sight of some of his colleagues, stumbling about amidst the ruins and
rubble in the stone-yard. This reassured him; if he followed the navvy,
and he had the strongest inclination to do so, he could telephone to
some reporter friend who would supply him with the necessary details for
his article on the accident. He had got some facts already: a sudden
collapse of stones and mortar had buried a hand-cart, in which were
large bars of gold belonging to the Barbey-Nanteuil bank. But the
precious vehicle had soon been rescued, and they were taking it to the
bank under escort.

Satisfied as to this, Fandor followed with his eyes this strange navvy
who was going further and further away.

Fandor had an intuition--a very strong feeling--that he must follow the
trail of this man and make him talk. It was of the utmost
importance--something told him this was so.

The navvy was not simply going away, he had the air of a man in flight.

Fandor, who was following now and keenly observant, noticed the
hesitating movements of the man--then there was an astonishing move on
the navvy's part: he hailed a taxi and got in. Fandor had the good luck
to find another taxi at once; jumping in, he said to the driver:

"Follow the 4227 G.H. whi