Juve frowned and suddenly fell silent. Then abruptly changing the conversation, he asked his lieutenant: "You told me, did you not, that you could no longer appear in the character of the Sapper?" "Quite true, Inspector, I was spotted just the day before the crime by Loupart, and so was my colleague, Nonet." "Talking of that," answered Juve, "Nonet mentioned vaguely something about an affair at the docks, supposed to have been planned by the Beard and an individual known as the Cooper. Are you fully informed?" "Unfortunately no, Inspector. I know no more about the matter than you do." "And what is Nonet about now?" "He has left for Chartres." Juve shrugged his shoulders. He was annoyed. Perhaps if Léon, nicknamed Nonet, had not been transferred he would by now have obtained pertinent clues to the dock's affair. After having enjoined Michel to devise a new disguise which allowed him to mix once more with the Band of Cyphers and going back to "The Good Comrades," Juve went down to the basement to supervise the workmen, who were now back; while Michel busied himself with the inventory of the papers found in Doctor Chaleck's study. * * * * * On leaving the house toward half-past seven in the evening Juve went slowly down to the Rue des Martyrs, pondering over the occurrences which for several days had succeeded each other with such startling rapidity. As he reached the boulevards the bawling of newsboys attracted his attention. An ominous headline was displayed in the papers the crowd was struggling for. "ANOTHER RAILROAD ACCIDENT. THE SIMPLON EXPRESS TELESCOPES THE MARSEILLES LIMITED. MANY VICTIMS." Juve anxiously bought a paper and scanned the list of the injured, fearful that Fandor would be found among the number. But as he read the details and learned that those in the detached carriage had escaped, he felt somewhat relieved. Hailing a taxi he drove off rapidly to the Prefecture in search of more precise information. "A message for you, M. Juve." The detective, hurrying home, was passing the porter's lodge. He pulled up short. "For me?" "Yes--it's certainly your name on the telegram." Juve took the blue envelope with distrust and uneasiness. He had given his home address to no one. He glanced over the message, and gave a sigh of relief. "The dear fellow," he muttered as he went upstairs. "He's had a narrow escape; however, all's well than ends well." After a hurried toilet and a bite of dinner, Juve set off again, jumped into a train for the Boulevard St. Germain and got down at the Jardin des Plantes. Then, sauntering casually along, he made for Bercy by the docks, which were covered as far as the eye could see with rows and rows of barrels. * * * * * About two hours later, Juve, who had been wandering about the vast labyrinth of wine-docks, began to grow impatient.