nder Police Headquarters would make! What a fine joke! Fandor
really must help it on! He said to himself:

"Only let the police paralyse the action of the Second Bureau agent,
old Vagualame, and I, the false Corporal Vinson, will be all the more
free to act."

"You have serious circumstantial evidence against this person?" Fandor
asked with a grave face.

"Very serious. I know for certain that he saw Nichoune the evening
before her death: he was even the last person known to have spoken to
the singer. I know that he then left Chalons, and has not returned
there!... I know that he was on good terms with very shady people,
some of whom are suspected of spying; and all that."...

Fandor interrupted:

"If I were in your place, Chief, and knew what you seem to know, I
would not hesitate a moment.... I should arrest Vagualame!"

Monsieur Havard's glance was ironical.

"Who told you that I had not so decided?... At this moment my best
trackers are out on Vagualame's trail.... If I run him to earth, he
will not be at large long, I can promise you! It would end a
bothersome affair, and would open the eyes of Colonel Hofferman who
must be a hundred leagues from imagining that Vagualame is the
murderer of Captain Brocq and Nichoune."

On this Fandor and Monsieur Havard parted. Dancing went gaily on in
the warm, perfumed atmosphere of the ball-rooms; but Fandor and
Monsieur Havard, Colonel Hofferman and Lieutenant de Loubersac had had
their serious interviews and had gone their respective ways.

XVII

IN THE STRONGHOLD OF THE ENEMY

The curtain with its pictured red cock was down, lights were up in the
modern Cinema Concert Hall, rue des Poissonniers. Most of the
spectators were on the move. An old white-bearded man of
poverty-stricken appearance rose from his seat beside a pretty,
red-haired girl, elegantly dressed. He murmured:

"I am going out for a smoke."

The girl nodded. She stared at the spectators with indifferent eyes.
They were mostly women and girls. There was a mingled odour of hot
coffee and orange peel. Drinks and refreshments, for the good of the
house, were now the order of the evening.

The odd-looking old fellow, with a shabby accordion slung over his
bent shoulders, making his way to the exit, was detective Juve,
Juve-Vagualame in fact. He had kept the appointment made with
Bobinette a week ago. This cinema entertainment in an unfashionable
quarter suited his purpose exactly. In such a