shan't be easy in my mind until some one besides myself knows
the secret."

"Have no fear, Verot. Monsieur le Prefet is bound to be back soon.
Meanwhile, I advise you to go to the infirmary and ask for a pick-me-up."

The inspector seemed undecided what to do. Once more he wiped away the
perspiration that was trickling down his forehead. Then, drawing himself
up, he left the office. When he was gone the secretary slipped the letter
into a big bundle of papers that lay on the Prefect's desk and went out
by the door leading to his own room.

He had hardly closed it behind him when the other door opened once again
and the inspector returned, spluttering:

"Monsieur le Secretaire ... it'd be better if I showed you--"

The unfortunate man was as white as a sheet. His teeth were chattering.
When he saw that the secretary was gone, he tried to walk across to his
private room. But he was seized with an attack of weakness and sank into
a chair, where he remained for some minutes, moaning helplessly:

"What's the matter with me? ... Have I been poisoned, too? ... Oh, I
don't like this; I don't like the look of this!"

The desk stood within reach of his hand. He took a pencil, drew a
writing-pad toward him and began to scribble a few characters. But he
next stammered:

"Why, no, it's not worth while. The Prefect will be reading my
letter.... What on earth's the matter with me. I don't like this at all!"

Suddenly he rose to his feet and called out:

"Monsieur le Secretaire, we've got ... we've got to ... It's for
to-night. Nothing can prevent--"

Stiffening himself with an effort of his whole will, he made for the door
of the secretary's room with little short steps, like an automaton. But
he reeled on the way--and had to sit down a second time.

A mad terror shook him from head to foot; and he uttered cries which were
too faint, unfortunately, to be heard. He realized this and looked round
for a bell, for a gong; but he was no longer able to distinguish
anything. A veil of darkness seemed to weigh upon his eyes.

Then he dropped on his knees and crawled to the wall, beating the air
with one hand, like a blind man, until he ended by touching some
woodwork. It was the partition-wall.

He crept along this; but, as ill-luck would have it, his bewildered brain
showed him a false picture of the room, so that, instead of turning to
the left as he should have done, he followed the wall to the right,
behind a screen which