reduced models, in ivory and steel, of apparatus
constructed or invented by the engineer.

A large sofa stood against the wall. In one corner was a winding
staircase that led to a circular gallery. An electric chandelier hung
from the ceiling.

Mazeroux, after stating his quality and introducing his friend Perenna
as also sent by the Prefect of Police, at once expounded the object of
their visit.

M. Desmalions, he said, was feeling anxious on the score of very serious
indications which he had just received and, without waiting for the next
day's interview, begged M. Fauville to take all the precautions which his
detectives might advise.

Fauville at first displayed a certain ill humour.

"My precautions are taken, gentlemen, and well taken. And, on the other
hand, I am afraid that your interference may do harm."

"In what way?"

"By arousing the attention of my enemies and preventing me, for that
reason, from collecting proofs which I need in order to confound them."

"Can you explain--?"

"No, I cannot ... To-morrow, to-morrow morning--not before."

"And if it's too late?" Don Luis interjected.

"Too late? To-morrow?"

"Inspector Verot told M. Desmalions's secretary that the two murders
would take place to-night. He said it was fatal and irrevocable."

"To-night?" cried Fauville angrily. "I tell you no! Not to-night.
I'm sure of that. There are things which I know, aren't there, which
you do not?"

"Yes," retorted Don Luis, "but there may also be things which Inspector
Verot knew and which you don't know. He had perhaps learned more of your
enemies' secrets than you did. The proof is that he was suspected, that a
man carrying an ebony walking-stick was seen watching his movements,
that, lastly, he was killed."

Hippolyte Fauville's self-assurance decreased. Perenna took advantage of
this to insist; and he insisted to such good purpose that Fauville,
though without withdrawing from his reserve, ended by yielding before a
will that was stronger than his own.

"Well, but you surely don't intend to spend the night in here?"

"We do indeed."

"Why, it's ridiculous! It's sheer waste of time! After all, looking at
things from the worst--And what do you want besides?"

"Who lives in the house?"

"Who? My wife, to begin with. She has the first floor."

"Mme. Fauville is not threatened?"

"No, not at all. It's I who am threatened with death; I and my son
Edmond. That is why, for the past week, inste