But he only knew the sugar refiner by sight, and had heard him speak but once or twice at the ball: that was not enough to go on, for Fandor had not paid special attention to the distinguishing tone and quality of his host's voice. Nevertheless, he could not get out of his head the idea that the celebrated sugar refiner, honoured by all Paris, esteemed by everybody, was standing only a step or two away from him now in this house of strange happenings, and under very peculiar circumstances. "Was he a burglar--an assassin? One of a nefarious band?" For Fandor was now convinced that these were not police emissaries bearing a legal mandate to search and distrain: no, they were robbers, criminals! He was preparing to rise from his hiding place and appear before the bandits: he would fire a few shots and make the deuce of a row and rouse the neighbourhood. He would also save poor Madame Bourrat, who was certainly not their accomplice. Just then he heard the pretended police inspector say: "Will you provide us with writing materials, madame? We must write an official report." "Why, certainly, monsieur," replied Madame Bourrat. "I will go downstairs and get what you require." Fandor heard her leave the room. No sooner had she gone than a hurried conversation began in low tones. Clearly Jules was guilty, for the pretended police inspector asked: "No one this evening? Nothing happened?" "No," replied Jules in a servile tone. "The journalist brought the mistress back and then went off at nine o'clock...." "No news of Alfred?" asked the voice. The third person answered: "Why, no. You know very well he is always at the Depot." "Let us set to work!" said voice number one. Fandor felt that the decisive moment had arrived: someone opened the cover of the trunk and feverish hands were turning over the confused mass of objects in the top compartment. "Didn't you find anything?" asked the voice of Jules. "No, no, monsieur! I searched everywhere; but as I do not read easily, it's difficult for me...." "Imbecile!" murmured the voice. "Ah!" said Fandor to himself. "This fellow pleases me! He has the same opinion of this dolt of a Jules as I have!" Revolver in hand, Fandor was on the alert. The moment they lifted up the compartment out he would jump. Just then, Madame Bourrat could be heard approaching. "Confound it! We shall not have time to go through everything!" muttered a voice. The trunk cover was hastily closed. Fandor heard Madame Bourrat enter the room with slow, heavy step. "Here are ink and paper, messieurs!" she said. Then the pretended police inspector made a statement that startled the concealed Fandor. "Madame, we have no time, nor are we able to make a minute investigation now. Besides, with one exception, there does not seem to be anything suspicious about the room; but here is a trunk which contains papers of great importance. We are going to take it to the police station."