hood. On the
cover of the trunk we have once again found an imprint, a very clear
impression--the famous imprint of Jacques Dollon!..."

"And you found nothing else?"

"Yes, in the dust on the floor, we found the marks of steps, numerous
foot marks: we have made tracings of them."

"My steps, evidently," thought Fandor. But what he said was:

"What, in short, is your view of the general position, Monsieur Havard?"

"I am very much bothered about it. For my part, I think we are once
again faced by another of Jacques Dollon's crimes. This wretch, after
having attempted to assassinate his sister, has learned that we were
going to search mademoiselle's room. He then made arrangements to steal
this trunk, by pretending to be a police inspector, as you know; then he
brought the trunk to this flat, examined its contents thoroughly, and
having some special interest in the sugar refiner's death, he managed to
get him to come to the flat, and there assassinated him, leaving his
dead body in front of this trunk, where it was bound to be seen; all
this he did in order to tangle the traces and perplex those on his
track...."

"But how do you explain the fact of Jacques Dollon being so simple as to
leave the imprints of his hand everywhere?... Deuce take it, this
individual is at liberty: he reads the papers.... He knows that Monsieur
Bertillon is tracing him!... So great a criminal would certainly be on
his guard!"

"Of course! Such a successful criminal as Dollon has shown himself to
be, must have resources at his disposal, which allow him to laugh at the
police. He does not trouble to cover his tracks; it is enough for him
that he should escape us."

As Fandor could not suppress a smile, the chief of the detective force
added:

"Oh, we shall finish by arresting Dollon, have no fear! So far he has
quite extraordinary luck in his favour, but the luck will turn, and we
shall put our hand on his collar!"

"I certainly hope you may. But what are you going to do now?"

The two had stopped on the edge of the pavement, and were talking
without paying any attention to the passers-by who rubbed shoulders with
them. The well-known journalist and the important police official were
unrecognised.

Monsieur Havard took Fandor's arm.

"Look here, come along with me, Fandor? Just the time to telephone to a
police station, and then I will take you with me to make a fresh
investigation."

"Where!"

"At Jacques Dollon's studio. I