cable, a stranger
rang at Mme. Dugrival's door and handed her an envelope. The envelope
contained fifty thousand-franc notes.

This theatrical stroke was not at all calculated to allay the universal
comment. But an event soon occurred which provided any amount of
additional excitement. Two days later, the people living in the same
house as Mme. Dugrival and her nephew were awakened, at four o'clock in
the morning, by horrible cries and shrill calls for help. They rushed to
the flat. The porter succeeded in opening the door. By the light of a
lantern carried by one of the neighbours, he found Gabriel stretched at
full-length in his bedroom, with his wrists and ankles bound and a gag
forced into his mouth, while, in the next room, Mme. Dugrival lay with
her life's blood ebbing away through a great gash in her breast.

She whispered:

"The money.... I've been robbed.... All the notes gone...."

And she fainted away.

What had happened? Gabriel said--and, as soon as she was able to speak,
Mme. Dugrival completed her nephew's story--that he was startled from
his sleep by finding himself attacked by two men, one of whom gagged
him, while the other fastened him down. He was unable to see the men in
the dark, but he heard the noise of the struggle between them and his
aunt. It was a terrible struggle, Mme. Dugrival declared. The ruffians,
who obviously knew their way about, guided by some intuition, made
straight for the little cupboard containing the money and, in spite of
her resistance and outcries, laid hands upon the bundle of bank-notes.
As they left, one of them, whom she had bitten in the arm, stabbed her
with a knife, whereupon the men had both fled.

"Which way?" she was asked.

"Through the door of my bedroom and afterward, I suppose, through the
hall-door."

"Impossible! The porter would have noticed them."

For the whole mystery lay in this: how had the ruffians entered the
house and how did they manage to leave it? There was no outlet open to
them. Was it one of the tenants? A careful inquiry proved the absurdity
of such a supposition.

What then?

Chief-inspector Ganimard, who was placed in special charge of the case,
confessed that he had never known anything more bewildering:

"It's very like Lupin," he said, "and yet it's not Lupin.... No, there's
more in it than meets the eye, something very doubtful and
suspicious.... Besides, if it were Lupin, why should he take back the
fifty thousand fran