“You must remember, sir,” observed a valet, who at M. Landais’ summons had cautiously half opened the door, “it is barely a quarter of an hour since they went for him. If M. Havard was still in bed ...” “Well, he had only to get up, eh? _I_’ve got up, haven’t I?...” But the Minister stopped abruptly; he had just got connection with the Prefecture of Police: “Hello!” he called, “well, what news?... What?... What’s that you tell me? Juve is dead? Good Lord! you are simply mad!... You don’t know? They never do know anything at the Prefecture! We must make a change there!” Trembling with agitation, he hung up the receiver again and, all alone in the room, began a perplexed soliloquy: “Juve is dead! Juve is dead! That isn’t true, for I was awakened by a message informing me that he was tied up at the Palais de Justice, along with M. Fuselier! But in that case ...” Suddenly he stopped to listen; there was a knock at the door of his room. “What now?” he yelled, “what is it?... Come in, come in!” The same valet who had just before answered M. Landais’ summons, again put in his head. “It is a cyclist constable who would like ...” “Tell him to come in, for God’s sake!” The manservant vanished, far from anxious to enjoy a prolonged tête-à-tête with his master, who was in the vilest of tempers. A second or two more and a police-officer entered the Minister’s working room. He had no time to stare in astonishment at the great man’s unconventional attire; the Minister was down on him instantly: “Why, what is it now? Where d’you come from?” The officer saluted respectfully. “Sir,” he was beginning, “I’ve come from the Commissary’s office at Alfort....” “From Alfort? Alfort, what the devil’s up at Alfort? What do you want?” “Sir,” the man persisted, “they have just captured a dozen brigands ... a dozen accomplices of Fantômas.” “Who has captured them?” “Inspector Juve, sir.” The Minister stood hesitating a moment. “Juve?” he said at last. “But that’s impossible; Juve is dead!” Losing all sense of the respect due to a superior, the officer, overwhelmed by the news, asked excitedly: “Juve dead? is Juve dead?” But, paying no heed to the worthy policeman’s emotion, the Minister proceeded: “Or he is tied up in the Palais de Justice, since yesterday evening....” “Tied up in the Palais de Justice? ... since yesterday evening?” stammered the officer, opening eyes of sheer amazement. M. Landais completed the man’s mystification. “Certainly!” he affirmed. “He is tied up, because he is set at liberty! You can make nothing of it, my man? No more can I!... And that’s about enough! Clear out!” The officer swung round on his heels as if to leave the room; then, dead set on delivering his message, he repeated: “Well, sir! Juve may be dead, or he may be tied up, or he may be at large; anyway this much is certain, he has just arrested twelve apaches!”