And so, in a fight in which the police had a band of experienced detectives at their disposal, while the enemy, a prisoner, seemed to possess not the remotest chance of safety, this enemy, by a strategem of unprecedented daring, had led two of his adversaries aside, disabled both of them, drawn the others into the house and, finding the coast clear, escaped.

M. Desmalions was white with anger and despair.  He exclaimed: 

“He’s tricked us!  His letters, his hiding-place, the movable nail, were all shams.  Oh, the scoundrel!”

He went down to the ground floor and into the courtyard.  On the boulevard he met one of the detectives who had given chase to the murderer and who was returning quite out of breath.

“Well?” he asked anxiously,

“Monsieur le Prefet, he turned down the first street, where there was a motor waiting for him.  The engine must have been working, for our man outdistanced us at once.”

“But what about my car?”

“You see, Monsieur le Prefet, by the time it was started—­”

“Was the motor that picked him up a hired one?”

“Yes, a taxi.”

“Then we shall find it.  The driver will come of his own accord when he has seen the newspapers.”

Weber shook his head.

“Unless the driver is himself a confederate, Monsieur le Prefet. 
Besides, even if we find the cab, aren’t we bound to suppose that Gaston
Sauverand will know how to front the scent?  We shall have trouble,
Monsieur le Prefet.”

“Yes,” whispered Don Luis, who had been present at the first investigation and who was left alone for a moment with Mazeroux.  “Yes, you will have trouble, especially if you let the people you capture take to their heels.  Eh, Mazeroux, what did I tell you last night?  But, still, what a scoundrel!  And he’s not alone, Alexandre.  I’ll answer for it that he has accomplices—­and not a hundred yards from my house—­do you understand?  From my house.”

After questioning Mazeroux upon Sauverand’s attitude and the other incidents of the arrest, Don Luis went back to the Place du Palais-Bourbon.

* * * * *

The inquiry which he had to make related to events that were certainly quite as strange as those which he had just witnessed; and while the part played by Gaston Sauverand in the pursuit of the Mornington inheritance deserved all his attention, the behaviour of Mile.  Levasseur puzzled him no less.

He could not forget the cry of terror that escaped the girl while he was telephoning to Mazeroux, nor the scared expression of her face.  Now it was impossible to attribute that cry and that expression to anything other than the words which he had uttered in reply to Mazeroux: 

“What!  Mme. Fauville tried to commit suicide!”

The fact was certain; and the connection between the announcement of the attempt and Mlle. Levasseur’s extreme emotion was too obvious for Perenna not to try to draw conclusions.