geant
lost his balance.

The man had stretched out his hand, armed with a revolver. A shot
rang out. The bullet whistled past the ears of Don Luis, who had
bobbed his head.

"After him!" he roared. "You're not hurt, Mazeroux?"

"No, Chief."

They both rushed in pursuit, shouting for assistance. But, at that early
hour, there are never many people in the wide avenues of this part of the
town. The man, who was making off swiftly, increased his distance, turned
down the Rue Octave-Feuillet, and disappeared.

"All right, you scoundrel, I'll catch you yet!" snarled Don Luis,
abandoning a vain pursuit.

"But you don't even know who he is, Chief."

"Yes, I do: it's he."

"Who?"

"The man with the ebony stick. He's cut off his beard and shaved his
face, but I knew him for all that. It was the man who was taking
pot-shots at us yesterday morning, from the top of his stairs on the
Boulevard Richard-Wallace, the one who killed Inspector Ancenis. The
blackguard! How did he know that I had spent the night at Fauville's?
Have I been followed then and spied on? But by whom? And why? And how?"

Mazeroux reflected and said:

"Remember, Chief, you telephoned to me in the afternoon to give me an
appointment. For all you know, in spite of lowering your voice, you may
have been heard by somebody at your place."

Don Luis did not answer. He thought of Florence.

That morning Don Luis's letters were not brought to him by Mlle.
Levasseur, nor did he send for her. He caught sight of her several times
giving orders to the new servants. She must afterward have gone back to
her room, for he did not see her again.

In the afternoon he rang for his car and drove to the house on the
Boulevard Suchet, to pursue with Mazeroux, by the Prefect's instructions,
a search that led to no result whatever.

It was ten o'clock when he came in. The detective sergeant and he had
some dinner together. Afterward, wishing also to examine the home of the
man with the ebony stick, he got into his car again, still accompanied by
Mazeroux, and told the man to drive to the Boulevard Richard-Wallace.

The car crossed the Seine and followed the right bank.

"Faster," he said to his new chauffeur, through the speaking-tube. "I'm
accustomed to go at a good pace."

"You'll have an upset one fine day, Chief," said Mazeroux.

"No fear," replied Don Luis. "Motor accidents are reserved for fools."

They reached the Place de l'Alma. The car turned to the l