e of M. Fauvel.

On the other hand, in acting thus hastily, he was insuring the safety of
the principal plotter, De Clameran. What proofs had he against him? Not
one. He had strong suspicions, but no well-grounded charge to produce
against him.

On reflection the clown decided that he would act alone, as he had thus
far done, and that alone and unaided he would discover the truth of all
his suspicions.

Having reached this decision, the first step to be taken was to put his
followers on the wrong scent.

He walked rapidly up the Rue Sebastopol, and, reaching the square of
the Arts et Metiers, he abruptly stopped, and asked some insignificant
questions of two constables who were standing talking together.

The manoeuvre had the result he expected; Raoul and Clameran stood
perfectly still about twenty steps off, not daring to advance.

Twenty steps! That was as much start as the clown wanted. While talking
with the constables, he had pulled the bell of the door before which
they were standing, and its hollow sound apprised him that the door was
open. He bowed, and entered the house.

A minute later the constables had passed on, and Lagors and Clameran in
their turn rang the bell. When the concierge appeared, they asked who it
was that had just gone in disguised as a clown.

They were told that no such person had entered, and that none of
the lodgers had gone out disguised that night. "However," added the
concierge, "I am not very sure, for this house has a back door which
opens on the Rue St. Denis."

"We are tricked," interrupted Lagors, "and will never know who the clown
is."

"Unless we learn it too soon for our own good," said Clameran musingly.

While Lagors and Clameran were anxiously trying to devise some means of
discovering the clown's identity, Verduret hurried up the back street,
and reached the Archangel as the clock struck three.

Prosper, who was watching from his window, saw him in the distance, and
ran down to open the door for him.

"What have you learned?" he said; "what did you find out? Did you see
Madeleine? Were Raoul and Clameran at the ball?"

But M. Verduret was not in the habit of discussing private affairs where
he might be overheard.

"First of all, let us go into your room, and get some water to wash this
cut, which burns like fire."

"Heavens! Are you wounded?"

"Yes, it is a little souvenir of your friend Raoul. Ah, I will soon
teach him the danger of chopping up a man'