“Oh, it would not have mattered if they had met!  However, perhaps it’s better as it is.  I hope that the American Ambassador did not trouble to come in person?”

“No, Monsieur le Prefet.”

“Have you their cards?”

“Yes.”

The Prefect of Police took the five visiting cards which his secretary handed him and read: 

“Mr. Archibald Bright, First Secretary United States Embassy; Maitre Lepertuis, Solicitor; Juan Caceres, Attache to the Peruvian Legation; Major Comte d’Astrignac, retired.”

The fifth card bore merely a name, without address or quality of any kind—­

DON LUIS PERENNA

“That’s the one I’m curious to see!” said M. Desmalions.  “He interests me like the very devil!  Did you read the report of the Foreign Legion?”

“Yes, Monsieur le Prefet, and I confess that this gentleman puzzles me, too.”

“He does, eh?  Did you ever hear of such pluck?  A sort of heroic madman, something absolutely wonderful!  And then there’s that nickname of Arsene Lupin which he earned among his messmates for the way in which he used to boss them and astound them! ...  How long is it since the death of Arsene Lupin?”

“It happened two years before your appointment, Monsieur le Prefet.  His corpse and Mme. Kesselbach’s were discovered under the ruins of a little chalet which was burnt down close to the Luxemburg frontier.  It was found at the inquest that he had strangled that monster, Mrs. Kesselbach, whose crimes came to light afterward, and that he hanged himself after setting fire to the chalet.”

“It was a fitting end for that—­rascal,” said M. Desmalions, “and I confess that I, for my part, much prefer not having him to fight against.  Let’s see, where were we?  Are the papers of the Mornington inheritance ready for me?”

“On your desk, Monsieur le Prefet.”

“Good.  But I was forgetting:  is Inspector Verot here?”

“Yes, Monsieur le Prefet.  I expect he’s in the infirmary getting something to pull him together.”

“Why, what’s the matter with him?”

“He struck me as being in a queer state—­rather ill.”

“How do you mean?”

The secretary described his interview with Inspector Verot.

“And you say he left a letter for me?” said M. Desmalions with a worried air.  “Where is it?”

“Among the papers, Monsieur le Prefet.”

“Very odd:  it’s all very odd.  Verot is a first-rate inspector, a very sober-minded fellow; and he doesn’t get frightened easily.  You might go and fetch him.  Meanwhile, I’ll look through my letters.”

The secretary hurried away.  When he returned, five minutes later, he stated, with an air of astonishment, that he had not seen Inspector Verot.

“And what’s more curious still,” he added, “is that the messenger who saw him leave this room saw him come in again almost at once and did not see him go out a second time.”