, the report of the detective
Montremain, which was laid before him, put him on the right road, and
soon led him to recognise the miscreants of La Jonchere as the authors
of the crime of the Rue de Ramey. He ordered a search to be made for
Arcade and Zita, and issued a warrant against Prince Istar, on whom the
detectives laid hands as he was leaving Bouchotte's, where he had been
depositing some bombs of new design. The Kerub, on learning the
detectives' intentions, smiled broadly and asked them if they had a
powerful motor-car. On their replying that they had one at the door, he
assured them that was all he wanted. Thereupon he felled the two
detectives on the stairs, walked up to the waiting car, flung the
chauffeur under a motor-'bus which was opportunely passing, and seized
the steering wheel under the eyes of the terrified crowd.

That same evening Monsieur Jeancourt, the Police Magistrate, entered
Theophile's rooms just when Bouchotte was swallowing a raw egg to clear
her voice, for she was to sing her new song, "They haven't got any in
Germany," at the "National Eldorado" that evening. The musician was
absent. Bouchotte received the Magistrate, and received him with a
hauteur which intensified the simplicity of her attire; Bouchotte was
_en deshabille_. The worthy Magistrate seized the score of _Aline, Queen
of Golconda_, and the love-letters which the singer carefully preserved
in the drawer of the table by her bed, for she was an orderly young
woman. He was about to withdraw when he espied a cupboard, which he
opened with a careless air, and found machines capable of blowing up
half Paris, and a pair of large white wings, whose nature and use
appeared inexplicable to him. Bouchotte was invited to complete her
toilette, and, in spite of her cries, was taken off to the
police-station.

Monsieur Salneuve was indefatigable. After the examination of the papers
seized in Bouchotte's house, and acting on the information of
Montremain, he issued a warrant for the arrest of young d'Esparvieu,
which was executed on Wednesday, the 27th May, at seven o'clock in the
morning, with great discretion. For three days Maurice had neither slept
nor eaten, loved nor lived. He had not a moment's doubt as to the nature
of the matutinal visit. At the sight of the police magistrate a strange
calm fell on him. Arcade had not returned to sleep in the flat. Maurice
begged the magistrate to wait for him, dressed with care, and then
accom