"Well, but, Monsieur, who are you?"

"Who am I?"

"Yes."

"Didn't they tell you? A Peruvian nobleman, or a Spanish nobleman, I
don't know which. In short, Don Luis Perenna."

"Bunkum! I've just heard--"

"Don Luis Perenna, late of the Foreign Legion."

"Enough of that, Monsieur--"

"Medaled and decorated with a stripe on every seam."

"Once more, Monsieur, enough of that; and come along with me to
the Prefect."

"But, let me finish, hang it! I was saying, late private in the Foreign
Legion.... Late hero.... Late prisoner of the Surete.... Late Russian
prince.... Late chief of the detective service.... Late--"

"But you're mad!" snarled the sergeant. "What's all this story?"

"It's a true story, Sergeant, and quite genuine. You ask me who I am; and
I'm telling you categorically. Must I go farther back? I have still more
titles to offer you: marquis, baron, duke, archduke, grand-duke,
petty-duke, superduke--the whole 'Almanach de Gotha,' by Jingo! If any
one told me that I had been a king, by all that's holy, I shouldn't dare
swear to the contrary!"

Sergeant Mazeroux put out his own hands, accustomed to rough work, seized
the seemingly frail wrists of the man addressing him and said:

"No nonsense, now. I don't know whom I've got hold of, but I shan't let
you go. You can say what you have to say at the Prefect's."

"Don't speak so loud, Alexandre."

The two frail wrists were released with unparalleled ease; the sergeant's
powerful hands were caught and rendered useless; and Don Luis grinned:

"Don't you know me, you idiot?"

Sergeant Mazeroux did not utter a word. His eyes started still farther
from his head. He tried to understand and remained absolutely dumfounded.

The sound of that voice, that way of jesting, that schoolboy playfulness
allied with that audacity, the quizzing expression of those eyes, and
lastly that Christian name of Alexandre, which was not his name at all
and which only one person used to give him, years ago. Was it possible?

"The chief!" he stammered. "The chief!"

"Why not?"

"No, no, because--"

"Because what?"

"Because you're dead."

"Well, what about it? D'you think it interferes with my living,
being dead?"

And, as the other seemed more and more perplexed, he laid his hand on his
shoulder and said:

"Who put you into the police office?"

"The Chief Detective, M. Lenormand."

"And who was M. Lenormand?"

"The chief."

"You mean Arsene Lupin, don'