"And is it done?"

"It's done. Florence Levasseur and Gaston Sauverand are in my room,
gagged and bound. You have only to accept delivery of the goods."

"Gaston Sauverand!" cried Weber. "Then it was he who was seen coming in?"

"Yes. He was simply living with Florence Levasseur, whose lover he is."

"Oho!" said the deputy chief, in a bantering tone. "Her lover!"

"Yes; and when Sergeant Mazeroux brought Florence Levasseur to my room,
to question her out of hearing of the servants, Sauverand, foreseeing the
arrest of his mistress, had the audacity to join us. He tried to rescue
her from our hands."

"And you checkmated him?"

"Yes."

It was clear that the deputy chief did not believe one word of the story.
He knew through M. Desmalions and Mazeroux that Don Luis was in love with
Florence; and Don Luis was not the man even through jealousy to hand over
a woman whom he loved. He increased his attention.

"Good business!" he said. "Take me up to your room. Was it a hard
struggle?"

"Not very. I managed to disarm the scoundrel. All the same, Mazeroux got
stabbed in the thumb."

"Nothing serious?"

"Oh, dear, no; but he has gone to have his wound dressed at the
chemist's."

The deputy chief stopped, greatly surprised.

"What! Isn't Mazeroux in your room with the two prisoners?"

"I never told you that he was."

"No, but your butler--"

"The butler made a mistake. Mazeroux went out a few minutes before
you came."

"It's funny," said Weber, watching Don Luis closely, "but my men all
think he's here. They haven't seen him go out."

"They haven't seen him go out?" echoed Don Luis, pretending to feel
anxious. "But, then, where can he be? He told me he wanted to have his
thumb seen to."

The deputy chief was growing more and more suspicious. Evidently Perenna
was trying to get rid of him by sending him in search of the sergeant.

"I will send one of my men," he said. "Is the chemist's near?"

"Just around the corner, in the Rue de Bourgogne. Besides, we can
telephone."

"Oh, we can telephone!" muttered Weber.

He was quite at a loss and looked like a man who does not know what is
going to happen next. He moved slowly toward the instrument, while
barring the way to Don Luis to prevent his escaping. Don Luis
therefore retreated to the telephone box, as if forced to do so, took
down the receiver with one hand, and, calling, "Hullo! Hullo! Saxe,
2409," with the other hand, which was resting against t