But what precisely was Tom Bob doing? On what lines was he pursuing his investigations against Fantômas? As to this, Fandor was very much in the dark. Like the general public, he had read in the newspapers of the sensational discovery of the bank collector’s body which the American detective had succeeded in making in Elisabeth Dollon’s flat. Fandor, like everybody else, more perhaps than most, for he knew the difficulties that beset police researches, had felt a profound admiration for the astuteness the American had given proof of on that occasion. “No doubt,” Fandor said to himself, “I put him on the scent when I told him about Moche, but all said and done, I had no information to give him of a sort to lead him to the discovery of the victim. The line of reasoning that took him to Elisabeth’s, that brought about the finding of the ‘wall that bleeds,’ after rousing his suspicions of Paulet, this reasoning was purely his own and it is marvellous in all respects.” He had even added in his self-communings: “If my fine fellow goes on as he has begun, I verily believe Fantômas will have found his match!” It was the sole gleam of hope still left to Jérôme Fandor. * * * * * “Ho there! my man.” “M’sieu?” “What d’ye mean, strolling about like that? You’re a gentleman of means, eh?” “No, m’sieu, I’m strolling because ...” “Right oh! D’ye care to earn six sous an hour? you know how to hold a shovel?” “Yes, m’sieu; yes, I’m willing.” “Come with me then!” The man who had hailed Fandor, as the journalist was finishing his circuit of the lake and had now reached the Racing Club enclosure, was evidently a roadman of the city of Paris. He wore the flat, silver-laced cap of the roads department, he had the heavy gait of an employé in that service, and the same good-natured look: “If I take you on,” he explained, leading Fandor towards the further end of the lake, near the Rond Royal, “it’s along of a pressing job, for to-morrow’s fête. I want hands.” “There’s a fête to-morrow?” Fandor asked. “And a smart one, I can tell you, my lad! a fête on the lake in honour of I don’t know what good Dutch folks, who are paying an official visit to Paris. Seems they’re going to take ’em on the water. It’s the municipality gives the show. Now I got my notice only just in time; so I’ve not been able to get my men together, and I’m glad enough to find outsiders like you to give a hand.” “What is it you want done?” queried Fandor, delighted at the opportunity that offered of earning a few sous.