"Since Your Imperial Majesty requires proofs in order to have confidence in me, I will furnish them. The twelve rooms leading out of this gallery each bear a different name, which is inscribed in French--obviously by a French decorative artist--over the various doors. One of the inscriptions, less damaged by the fire than the others, caught my eye as I was passing along the gallery. I examined the other doors: all of them bore hardly legible traces of names caned over the pediments. Thus I found a 'D' and an 'E' the first and last letters of 'Diane.' I found an 'A' and 'LON' which pointed to 'Apollon.' These are the French equivalents of Diana and Apollo, both of them mythological deities. The other inscriptions presented similar characteristics. I discovered traces of such names as Jupiter, Venus, Mercury, Saturn and so on. This part of the problem was solved: each of the twelve rooms bears the name of an Olympian god or goddess; and the letters APOON, completed by Isilda, point to the Apollo Room or Salle d'Apollon. So it is here, in the room in which we now are, that the letters are hidden. A few minutes, perhaps, will suffice in which to discover them." "A few minutes or a few years . . . or even longer!" said the Emperor, laughing. He seemed greatly amused; and the count also displayed a coarse merriment. Lupin asked: "Would Your Imperial Majesty be good enough to explain?" "M. Lupin, the exciting investigation which you have conducted to-day and of which you are telling us the brilliant results has already been made by me . . . yes, a fortnight ago, in the company of your friend Holmlock Shears. Together we questioned little Isilda; together, we employed the same method in dealing with her that you did; and together we observed the names in the gallery and got as far as this room, the Apollo Room." Lupin turned livid. He spluttered: "Oh, did Shears get . . . as far as . . . this?" "Yes, after four days' searching. True, it did not help us, for we found nothing. All the same, I know that the letters are not here." Trembling with rage, wounded in his innermost pride, Lupin fired up under the gibe, as though he had been lashed with a whip. He had never felt humiliated to such a degree as this. In this fury, he could have strangled the fat Waldemar, whose laughter incensed him. Containing himself with an effort, he said: "It took Shears four days, Sire, and me only four hours. And I should have required even less, if I had not been thwarted in my search." "And by whom, bless my soul? By my faithful count? I hope he did not dare . . . !" "No, Sire, but by the most terrible and powerful of my enemies, by that infernal being who killed his own accomplice Altenheim." "Is he here? Do you think so?" exclaimed the Emperor, with an agitation which showed that he was familiar with every detail of the dramatic story.