sewer-way.

In safe hiding the two men could watch the approaching intruder: they
had extinguished their lantern, and were peering through the badly
joined wood of the solid door. Friend or foe? An individual moved into
view. The reflected light of his lantern lit up the vaulting of the
sewer-way, and showed up his face. The man was young, fair, wore a
small moustache!

Hardly had he passed the cellar door when Nibet gripped Cranajour's arm
and growled--intense rage was expressed in grip and tone--"It's he!
Again! The journalist of the Dollon affair, of the Depot
business--Jerome Fandor! Ah.... This time we'll see!..."

Nibet's hand plunged into his trouser pocket.

Cranajour was eagerly watching the warder's every movement: he clearly
heard the sharp snap of a pocket-knife--a long sharp knife--a deadly
weapon!

Giving prudence the go-by, Nibet had opened the door, and dragging
Cranajour in his wake had rushed into the sewer-way, hard on the heels
of the journalist, who was slowly going in the direction of the Seine.
Nibet ground his teeth.

"I have had enough of that beast! Always on our track! Too good a chance
to miss! I'm going to make a hole in his skin for him!"

In the twilight of early dawn, which penetrated the sewer near the
opening, Cranajour shuddered.

With stealthy step the two men drew near the journalist. Fandor walked
on unsuspicious at a slow regular pace, his head lowered. The two
bandits came up to within a yard of him. Noiselessly, savagely
determined, Nibet lifted his arm for a murderous stroke. At this precise
moment Fandor stopped at the verge of the exit, by which the sewer
discharged its burden steeply into the Seine.

Yet a moment: Nibet's knife was poised for the rapid and terrible
stroke; it was about to bury itself in the neck of the journalist up to
the hilt, when Cranajour lifted his foot, as if inspired by an idea on
the spur of the moment, gave the journalist a violent kick in the lower
part of the back, and sent him flying into space!

They heard his body fall heavily into the Seine.... So roughly sudden
had been Cranajour's movement that Nibet stood dumbfounded, arm in air,
and staring at Cranajour:

Cranajour smiled his most idiotic smile, nodded, but did not utter one
word!...

* * * * *

It was formidable, the rage of Nibet! Here had that crass fool,
Cranajour, kicked away the warder's chance of ridding himself of the
journalist for