resumptions, he dreaded the slowness of the police, their inevitable
indiscretions, the whole preliminary inquiry, during which Lupin, who
was sure to be warned, would have time to effect a retreat in good
order.

At eight o'clock the next morning, with his bundle under his arm, he
left the inn in which he was staying near Cuzion, made for the nearest
thicket, took off his workman's clothes, became once more the young
English painter that he had been and went to call on the notary at
Eguzon, the largest place in the immediate neighborhood.

He said that he liked the country and that he was thinking of taking up
his residence there, with his relations, if he could find a suitable
house.

The notary mentioned a number of properties. Beautrelet took note of
them and let fall that some one had spoken to him of the Chateau de
l'Aiguille, on the bank of the Creuse.

"Oh, yes, but the Chateau de l'Aiguille, which has belonged to one of
my clients for the last five years, is not for sale."

"He lives in it, then?"

"He used to live in it, or rather his mother did. But she did not care
for it; found the castle rather gloomy. So they left it last year."

"And is no one living there at present?"

"Yes, an Italian, to whom my client let it for the summer season: Baron
Anfredi."

"Oh, Baron Anfredi! A man still young, rather grave and
solemn-looking--?"

"I'm sure I can't say.--My client dealt with him direct. There was no
regular agreement, just a letter--"

"But you know the baron?"

"No, he never leaves the castle.--Sometimes, in his motor, at night, so
they say. The marketing is done by an old cook, who talks to nobody.
They are queer people--"

"Do you think your client would consent to sell his castle?"

"I don't think so. It's an historic castle, built in the purest Louis
XIII. style. My client was very fond of it; and, unless he has changed
his mind--"

"Can you give me his name and address?"

"Louis Valmeras, 34, Rue du Mont-Thabor."

Beautrelet took the train for Paris at the nearest station. On the next
day but one, after three fruitless calls, he at last found Louis
Valmeras at home. He was a man of about thirty, with a frank and
pleasing face. Beautrelet saw no need to beat about the bush, stated
who he was and described his efforts and the object of the step which
he was now taking:

"I have good reason to believe," he concluded, "that my father is
imprisoned in the Chateau de l'Aiguille, doubt