Meantime the empty garret was the scene of a frenzied search. The police, who had invaded the place like pillagers into a captured city, were now convinced that the man they sought for had escaped. “The scoundrel!” screamed one of them, who running to the window had discovered a rope hanging from it, the rope that doubtless had helped Fantômas to escape over the roofs, “the scoundrel!” Fandor could not see the man well, but he had a better view of another officer who answered him; it was Michel, Inspector Michel, who had once served under Juve’s orders! “My word,” the Inspector was saying, “but the villain had planned it all to rights. He was expecting us; while we were breaking in the door, he had plenty of time to get away.... Curse him! to think three of us have got themselves knocked out of time!” But at this point a constable who was still busy turning out a corner of the garret, interrupted his chief by a sharp exclamation: “Look, sir, just look here!”—“What is it?”—It was a small, shiny object—Fandor could see it quite plainly from his eyrie in the lantern—which the man held out for his chief’s inspection. The latter seemed prodigiously surprised at sight of it: “God bless us! where did you find that?” “In the corner over there ... It means something, that does.” “Means something?... It means everything!” The other men had gathered round the two: “What is it, sir?” “Look! an astonishing find! Léon has just picked up a button of the uniform the collectors of the Comptoir National wear.” While this was going on, a series of ominous cracks had seriously alarmed the unfortunate young man who was still hunched up on his uncomfortable perch. Meantime, however, the police officers had disconsolately taken their departure; they had arrived a dozen men, they returned to headquarters only nine. Hardly had the constables gone when, suddenly, in a moment, without further warning, the bottom of the Chinese lantern fell out. With a mighty crash Fandor tumbled out on to the floor. Luckily, the ceiling was low; the young man was not hurt, but he lay stunned on the ground, and for some seconds did not know where he was. Then, quickly, with his usual courage, he regained command of himself. “Good Lord!” he reflected, “I made a hideous noise in falling. Unless everybody is out of the house helping to remove the wounded men, they’ll come here with a rush and find me.” Then, straining his muscles almost to cracking point, Jérôme Fandor, in spite of the intolerable pain these efforts caused him, struggled to unloose his bonds; at all costs he must regain his liberty.