order which I gave you and go off after
Don Luis."

Mazeroux clicked his heels together and, old soldier that he was,
saluted:

"I shall stay here, Monsieur le Prefet."

And he turned and went back to his place at a distance.

* * * * *

Silence followed. M. Desmalions began to walk up and down the room, with
his hands behind his back. Then, addressing the chief detective and the
secretary general:

"You are of my opinion, I hope?" he said.

"Why, yes, Monsieur le Prefet."

"Well, of course! To begin with, that supposition is based on nothing
serious. And, besides, we are guarded, aren't we? Bombs don't come
tumbling on one's head like that. It takes some one to throw them. Well,
how are they to come? By what way?"

"Same way as the letters," the secretary general ventured to suggest.

"What's that? Then you admit--?"

The secretary general did not reply and M. Desmalions did not complete
his sentence. He himself, like the others, experienced that same feeling
of uneasiness which gradually, as the seconds sped past, was becoming
almost intolerably painful.

Three o'clock in the morning! ... The words kept on recurring to his
mind. Twice he looked at his watch. There was twelve minutes left. There
was ten minutes. Was the house really going to be blown up, by the mere
effect of an infernal and all-powerful will?

"It's senseless, absolutely senseless!" he cried, stamping his foot.

But, on looking at his companions, he was amazed to see how drawn their
faces were; and he felt his courage sink in a strange way. He was
certainly not afraid; and the others were no more afraid than he. But all
of them, from the chiefs to the simple detectives, were under the
influence of that Don Luis Perenna whom they had seen accomplishing such
extraordinary feats, and who had shown such wonderful ability throughout
this mysterious adventure.

Consciously or unconsciously, whether they wished it or no, they looked
upon him as an exceptional being endowed with special faculties, a
being of whom they could not think without conjuring up the image of
the amazing Arsene Lupin, with his legend of daring, genius, and
superhuman insight.

And Lupin was telling them to fly. Pursued and hunted as he was, he
voluntarily gave himself up to warn them of their danger. And the danger
was immediate. Seven minutes more, six minutes more--and the house would
be blown up.

With great simplicity, Mazeroux