imself modest, as usual, a little surprised at
the excessive cheering, a little embarrassed by the extravagant
panegyrics in which he was pronounced greater than the most illustrious
detectives--a little embarrassed, but also not a little touched.

He said as much in a few words that pleased all his hearers and with
the shyness of a child that blushes when you look at it. He spoke of
his delight, of his pride. And really, reasonable and self-controlled
as he was, this was for him a moment of never-to-be-forgotten
exultation. He smiled to his friends, to his fellow-Jansonians, to
Valmeras, who had come specially to give him a cheer, to M. de Gesvres,
to his father.

When he had finished speaking; and while he still held his glass in his
hand, a sound of voices came from the other end of the room and some
one was gesticulating and waving a newspaper. Silence was restored and
the importunate person sat down again: but a thrill of curiosity ran
round the table, the newspaper was passed from hand to hand and, each
time that one of the guests cast his eyes upon the page at which it was
opened, exclamations followed:

"Read it! Read it!" they cried from the opposite side.

The people were leaving their seats at the principal table. M.
Beautrelet went and took the paper and handed it to his son.

"Read it out! Read it out!" they cried, louder.

And others said:

"Listen! He's going to read it! Listen!"

Beautrelet stood facing his audience, looked in the evening paper which
his father had given him for the article that was causing all this
uproar and, suddenly, his eyes encountering a heading underlined in
blue pencil, he raised his hand to call for silence and began in a loud
voice to read a letter addressed to the editor by M. Massiban, of the
Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres. His voice broke and fell,
little by little, as he read those stupefying revelations, which
reduced all his efforts to nothing, upset his notions concerning the
Hollow Needle and proved the vanity of his struggle with Arsene Lupin:

* * * * *

Sir:

On the 17th of March, 1679, there appeared a little book with the
following title: The Mystery of the Hollow Needle. The Whole Truth now
first exhibited. One hundred copies printed by myself for the
instruction of the Court.

At nine o'clock on the morning of that day, the author, a very young
man, well-dressed, whose name has remained unknown, began to