"What I have to find out is how the dead man left the Depot. It is the first discovery to be made, the first impossibility to be explained--yes, and how am I to set about it?" Suddenly Fandor jumped up, marched rapidly up and down his room, whistled a few bars of a popular melody, and in his exuberant gaiety attempted an operatic air in a voice deplorably out of tune. "There are eighty chances out of a hundred that I shall not succeed," cried he; "but that still leaves me twenty chances of arriving at a satisfactory result--let us make the attempt!" As Fandor was hurrying off, he called to the portress in passing: "Madame Oudry, I don't know whether I shall be back this evening or no. Perhaps I may have to leave Paris for awhile, so would you be kind enough to pay particular attention to any letters that may come for me--be very particular about them, please!" Fandor went off. A thought struck him. He turned back. He had something more to say to the good woman: "I forgot to ask you whether anyone called to see me yesterday afternoon!" "No, Monsieur Fandor, no one!" "Good! If by any chance a messenger should bring a letter for me, look very carefully at him, Madame Oudry. I have a colleague or two who are playing a joke on me, and I should not be sorry to get even with them!" This time Fandor really went off, having set his portress on the alert. In the rue Montmartre he hailed a cab: "To the National Library! And as quick as you can!" * * * * * "By Jove! It's three o'clock! I've not a minute to lose!" cried Fandor as he got back his stick from the cloak-room of the National Library: he had handed it in there some hours ago. He entered the rue Richelieu. Now for an ironmonger's shop! He caught sight of one and went in: "I should like fifty yards of fine cord, please; very strong and very pliable," said Fandor. The shopkeeper stared at the smart young man: "What do you want it for, sir?... I have various qualities." Without the trace of a smile, and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he replied: "It is for one of my friends: he wants to hang himself!" A shout of laughter was the response to this witticism, and the amused shopkeeper forthwith displayed various samples of cords. Fandor promptly made his choice and left the shop. "Now for a watchmaker's!" said our journalist. He entered a jeweller's close by: "I want an alarum clock--a small one--the cheapest you have!" Provided with his alarum, Fandor looked at his watch again: "Confound it all! It's half-past three!" he cried. He signalled to a closed cab: "To the Palais de Justice! As hard as you can lick!" Directly Fandor was well inside the vehicle, he drew down the blinds; took off his coat; unbuttoned his waistcoat!... * * * * *