ue was probably taking his
passage for some foreign land at that very moment. But Clameran should
not escape unpunished; and how this punishment could be brought about
without compromising Mme. Fauvel, was the problem to be solved.

M. Verduret thought over the various cases similar to this, but not one
of his former expedients could be applied to the present circumstances.
He could not deliver the villain over to justice without involving Mme.
Fauvel.

After long thought, he decided that an accusation of poisoning must come
from Oloron. He would go there and work upon "public opinion," so that,
to satisfy the townspeople, the authorities would order a post-mortem
examination of Gaston. But this mode of proceeding required time; and
Clameran would certainly escape before another day passed over his head.
He was too experienced a knave to remain on slippery ground, now that
his eyes were open to the danger which menaced him. It was almost dark
when the carriage stopped in front of the Hotel du Louvre; M. Verduret
noticed a crowd of people collected together in groups, eagerly
discussing some exciting event which seemed to have just taken
place. Although the policeman attempted to disperse the crowd by
authoritatively ordering them to "Move on! Move on!" they would merely
separate in one spot to join a more clamorous group a few yards off.

"What has happened?" demanded M. Verduret of a lounger near by.

"The strangest thing you ever heard of," replied the man; "yes, I saw
him with my own eyes. He first appeared at that seventh-story window; he
was only half-dressed. Some men tried to seize him; but, bast! with the
agility of a squirrel, he jumped out upon the roof, shrieking, 'Murder!
murder!' The recklessness of his conduct led me to suppose--"

The gossip stopped short in his narrative, very much surprised and
vexed; his questioner had vanished.

"If it should be Clameran!" thought M. Verduret; "if terror has deranged
that brain, so capable of working out great crimes! Fate must have
interposed----"

While thus talking to himself, he elbowed his way through the crowded
court-yard of the hotel.

At the foot of the staircase he found M. Fanferlot and three
peculiar-looking individuals standing together, as if waiting for
someone.

"Well," cried M. Verduret, "what is the matter?"

With laudable emulation, the four men rushed forward to report to their
superior officer.

"Patron," they all began at once.

"