What Leslie Dane might have answered to this reasoning will never be a matter of history, for before he could open his lips to speak there was a thundering rap at the door. In some suspense he advanced and threw it open. Three or four officers of the French police, in their neat uniform, stood in the hallway without. "Enter, gentlemen," he said, courteously, though there was a tone of surprise in his voice that they could not mistake. Carl Muller, too, though he did not speak, rose from his seat and expressed his amazement by his manner. The officers filed into the room gravely, closing the door after them. Then the foremost one advanced, with an open paper in his hand, and laid his hand firmly but respectfully on Leslie Dane's arm. "Monsieur Dane," he said, in clear, incisive tones that fell like a thunder-clap on the hearing of the two artists--"Monsieur Dane, I arrest you for the willful murder of Francis Arnold at his home in America three years ago!" CHAPTER XXX. "_Quelle horreur_, Felise! that was a shocking _denouement_ to-night. We tremble on the brink of a volcano." Mrs. Arnold and her daughter were rolling homeward in their luxurious carriage from the masquerade ball at Colonel Carlyle's chateau, and the elder lady's remark was uttered in a tone of trepidation and terror. But Felise leaning back in her corner among the silken cushions in the picturesque costume of a fortune-teller, only laughed at her terror--a low and fiendish laugh that expressed unqualified satisfaction. "_Ma mere_, was Leslie Dane's resurrection a great surprise to you?" she inquired, with a covert sneer. "A great surprise, and a terrible shock to me, too," the lady answered. "Of course, after believing him dead so long, it is very inconvenient to have him come to life again--as inconvenient for Colonel Carlyle and his wife as for us." And again Felise laughed mockingly, as if she found only the sweetest pleasure in her mother's words. "Felise, I cannot understand you," exclaimed Mrs. Arnold, anxiously. "Surely you forget the peril we are in from this man's resurrection from the grave where we thought him lying. I thought you would be as much surprised and frightened at this dreadful _contretemps_ as I am." "I have known that Leslie Dane was living all these three years," answered Miss Herbert, as coolly as before. "Then the paper you showed to me and to Bonnibel must have been a forgery!' "It was. I had the notice of Leslie Dane's death inserted myself." The carriage paused at their hotel, and they were handed out. Mrs. Arnold followed her daughter to her own apartments. "Send your maid away, Felise. I must talk to you a little," she said. Felise had a French maid now instead of Janet, who had resolutely declined to cross the ocean with her. "Finette, you may go for awhile," she said. "I will ring when I need you." The maid courtesied and went away.