o press, a bloody imprint has been
discovered on hand-cart number 2. Monsieur Bertillon immediately
identified this imprint: it was made by the hand of Jacques Dollon,
the criminal who is already wanted by the police for the murder of
the Baroness de Vibray, and the robbery committed on the Princess
Sonia Danidoff._"

"But I am not mad!" cried Fandor, when he had read these lines. "I
declare I am not mad! By all that's holy, Jacques Dollon is dead!...
Fifty persons have seen him dead! But, for all that, Bertillon cannot be
mistaken!"

After a minute or two, Fandor took up his pen again, and added a note to
his article, entitled:--

_Sensational development. The police say: "It is the late Jacques
Dollon who has stolen the millions!"_

This note showed clearly that Jerome Fandor did not believe that Jacques
Dollon could possibly be involved in this affair, or in either of the
other crimes in connection with which his name had been mentioned.

XII

INVESTIGATIONS

A man jumped quickly out of the Auteuil-Madeleine tram.

It would have been difficult to guess his age, or see his face. He wore
a large soft hat--a Brazilian sombrero--whose edges he had turned down.
The collar of his overcoat was turned up, so that the lower part of his
face was so far buried in it that his features were almost hidden. Then,
during the entire journey, seated at the end of the tramcar he had kept
his back turned on the other passenger: he seemed to be absorbed in
watching the movements of the driver. At the end of the rue Mozart,
where the rues La Fontaine, Poussin, des Perchamps meet, he had quitted
the tram with real satisfaction.

Then, in the silence of the evening, the clock of Auteuil church had
slowly struck eight silvery strokes.

The listening man murmured:

"Oh, there's no hurry after all. I've a two good hours' wait in front of
me!"

Leaving the frequented ways, he plunged into the little by-streets,
newly made and not yet named, which join the end of the rue Mozart with
the boulevard Montmorency. He walked fast, at the same time taking his
bearings.

"Rue Raffet?... If I don't deceive myself, it lies in this direction!"

He reached the hilly and lonely road bearing that name, which, on both
sides of its entire length, is bordered by attractive private
residences.

Swiftly, silently, stealthily, this individual approached one of these
houses. He glanced through the garde