“‘The history of the Rue du Bac is much more simple. The Prefect of Police had received a note which ran: “If you dare, come and find me; I am always at the inn in the Rue du Bac, with Bernard.” It was signed “Cartouche.” The thing had occurred after Mme. de Bithigne had told her story. The Prefect thought over his case and laid his plans. “‘That same evening, a quarter of an hour after midnight, half a dozen policemen raided the tavern in the Rue du Bac. They were met on the stairs by a man, who, although still young, had perfectly white hair. He was endowed with almost superhuman strength, and, on seeing the police, he picked up a chair near by and started striking them. Three of them were stunned, and the others only just had time to drag the prostrated bodies of their companions into the street to prevent them from being burned by a fire started on the first landing by this man with white hair. The man saved himself by jumping from roof to roof over spaces more than thirty feet high. “‘The new Cartouche,’ continued Théophraste, amid the scared silence of Marceline and M. Le-camus, ‘the new Cartouche has taken possession of the Rue Guenegaud. Several days ago they found in a vault-like passage there under the floor the body of a young doctor, who had been active at the death of Mme. de Bardinoldi, the mystery of which had baffled the police and press. The police had not confided to any one the fact that pinned to the young doctor’s tunic was a card on which some one had written in pencil: “We will meet each other in the other world, M. de Traneuse.” This was without doubt a crime of the new Cartouche, for the old one did in fact assassinate at this place an engineer named Traneuse. Cartouche had knocked him on the head with a stick, and the young doctor had had his skull fractured with a blunt instrument.’” Théophraste laid down the paper, and, looking at Adolphe and Marceline, remarked that they both looked as if they were expecting a like catastrophe. “Why, my dear Adolphe,” said he, “it is ridiculous for you to be angry at such pleasantries. I take the opportunity of telling you that I often frequent the Rue Guenegaud. That history of M. de Traneuse was to me the beginning of one of the prettiest farces that ever I played with M. d’Argenson’s spies. Following the death of M. de Traneuse (who had allowed some very improper talk about me), I was followed by two patrols of the guard, who covered me and rendered all resistance impossible. But they were ignorant that I was Cartouche, and satisfied themselves by conducting me to the Ford l’Avegne, which was the easiest prison in Paris. In this prison they put debtors, drunks, and disorderly people, and the people who have not paid their fines. They were sure that they had taken Cartouche on the 10th of January, but on the evening of the 9th Cartouche had made his escape, and took the direction of his police. It was time, for everybody was now searching the streets of Paris.