eel that you do not
believe me--and I have no strength left. Go away, every one of you!"

He said a few more words which M. Desmalions could not make out. Then the
voice ceased; and, though the Prefect still heard cries, it seemed to him
that those cries were distant, as though the instrument were no longer
within the reach of the mouth that uttered them.

He hung up the receiver.

"Gentlemen," he said, with a smile, "it is seventeen to three. In
seventeen minutes we shall all be blown up together. At least, that is
what our good friend Don Luis Perenna declares."

In spite of the jokes with which this threat was met, there was a general
feeling of uneasiness. Weber asked:

"Was it really Don Luis, Monsieur le Prefet?"

"Don Luis in person. He has gone to earth in some hiding-hole in his
house, above the study; and his fatigue and privations seem to have
unsettled him a little. Mazeroux, go and ferret him out--unless this is
just some fresh trick on his part. You have your warrant."

Sergeant Mazeroux went up to M. Desmalions. His face was pallid.

"Monsieur le Prefet, did _he_ tell you that we were going to be
blown up?"

"He did. He relies on the note which M. Weber found in a volume of
Shakespeare. The explosion is to take place to-night."

"At three o'clock in the morning?"

"At three o'clock in the morning--that is to say, in less than a quarter
of an hour."

"And do you propose to remain, Monsieur le Prefet?"

"What next, Sergeant? Do you imagine that we are going to obey that
gentleman's fancies?"

Mazeroux staggered, hesitated, and then, despite all his natural
deference, unable to contain himself, exclaimed:

"Monsieur le Prefet, it's not a fancy. I have worked with Don Luis. I
know the man. If he tells you that something is going to happen, it's
because he has his reasons."

"Absurd reasons."

"No, no, Monsieur le Prefet," Mazeroux pleaded, growing more and more
excited. "I swear that you must listen to him. The house will be blown
up--he said so--at three o'clock. We have a few minutes left. Let us go.
I entreat you, Monsieur le Prefet."

"In other words, you want us to run away."

"But it's not running away, Monsieur le Prefet. It's a simple precaution.
After all, we can't risk--You, yourself, Monsieur le Prefet--"

"That will do."

"But, Monsieur le Prefet, as Don Luis said--"

"That will do, I say!" repeated the Prefect harshly. "If you're afraid,
you can take advantage of the