Eighteen months later, having attracted the favourable notice of the Chamber by his wise common sense, and the maturity of his views, he was invited by Monnier to join his Cabinet in the position of an Under Secretary of State; then, in course of time, as resignations or deaths opened the way, Ferrand secured the portfolio of the Minister of Justice, the highest functionary after the President of the Council! From that moment, his career was one series of triumphs. So far from throwing him back, the extraordinary adventure of a few days before had actually added to his popularity. Henceforth he felt persuaded he had only to steer his bark adroitly to arrive at the very highest honours the country could bestow. On reaching his rooms, the young Minister cast a weary, worried look at the heap of documents, whose contents he must master. Smiling to himself: “All that stuff,” he said, “is marked ‘urgent,’ and for several days now a whole pile of these documents has been lying here that I’ve not even looked at. I wonder what really happens in a Ministry to matters that are _not_ ‘urgent’?” Thereupon the Minister set feverishly to work at the task of sorting the voluminous correspondence heaped up in front of him. Two or three times his brow contracted, he made a gesture of exasperation: “Again!” he groaned, “again! it is really abominable!” From time to time, in fact, lurking among letters and papers, hidden under bundles of documents, Désiré Ferrand kept coming upon a little memorandum, identical in every instance, but repeated in quite a number of copies. It was headed: _The Million._ Its text, which never varied, was a discreetly worded and anonymous reminder of the claim, rather say the order, formulated by the person calling himself Fantômas, who called upon the Chamber to pay the ransom fixed by himself. The fourth time this happened, the Minister banged his fist heavily on the table: “It is past endurance,” he vociferated; “if one of my _attachés_ has ventured on this pleasantry, the first thing I do to-morrow will be to show my gentleman the door.” But it was getting very late; to snatch a few hours’ sleep was imperative. Within a few minutes, Ferrand had put out the light and gone to bed. With closed eyes, he was trying to get to sleep, when, just as the pleasant drowsiness that precedes slumber was creeping over him, the Minister sprang half up in bed, listening intently. He had heard footsteps. Then he leapt to the floor, convinced someone was coming into the room, though he knew he was alone, that he must be alone, in his private suite! Too much alone, perhaps, he thought, as he remembered that at night the Ministry was entirely deserted and that his man slept in a separate building a long way off. “Perhaps I have been unwise,” he reflected, but his reflections were suddenly cut short.