Little by little, with a series of natural and hardly perceptible movements, he leant elbows on the table. He gradually lowered his arms, slipped his hand under Maître Quimbel's hat, put his finger into the leather band and took out one of those strips of paper, folded lengthwise, which the hatter inserts between the leather and the lining when the hat is a trifle too large. He unfolded the paper. It was a message from Doudeville, written in a cipher agreed upon beforehand: "I am engaged as indoor servant at Maître Quimbel's. You can answer by the same means without fear. "It was L. M., the murderer, who gave away the envelope trick. A good thing that you foresaw this move!" Hereupon followed a minute report of all the facts and comments caused by Lupin's revelations. Lupin took from his pocket a similar strip of paper containing his instructions, quietly substituted it in the place of the other and drew his hand back again. The trick was played. And Lupin's correspondence with the _Grand Journal_ was resumed without further delay. "I apologize to the public for not keeping my promise. The postal arrangements at the Santé Palace are woefully inadequate. "However, we are near the end. I have in hand all the documents that establish the truth upon an indisputable basis. I shall not publish them for the moment. Nevertheless, I will say this: among the letters are some that were addressed to the chancellor by one who, at that time, declared himself his disciple and his admirer and who was destined, several years after, to rid himself of that irksome tutor and to govern alone. "I trust that I make myself sufficiently clear." And, on the next day: "The letters were written during the late Emperor's illness. I need hardly add more to prove their importance." Four days of silence, and then this final note, which caused a stir that has not yet been forgotten: "My investigation is finished. I now know everything. "By dint of reflection, I have guessed the secret of the hiding-place. "My friends are going to Veldenz and, in spite of every obstacle, will enter the castle by a way which I am pointing out to them. "The newspapers will then publish photographs of the letters, of which I already know the tenor; but I prefer to reproduce the whole text. "This certain, inevitable publication will take place in a fortnight from to-day precisely, on the 22nd of August next. "Between this and then I will keep silence . . . and wait." The communications to the _Grand Journal_ did, in fact, stop for a time, but Lupin never ceased corresponding with his friends, "_via_ the hat," as they said among themselves. It was so simple! There was no danger. Who could ever suspect that Maître Quimbel's hat served Lupin as a letter-box?