"Where is 'The American'?" asked the commissary, of Adolphe. "We know he is here, somewhere. You need not affect innocence, for your hand tells the truth. You and he did the job at the Baron de Rycker's, and you left a large blood-stain behind. What have you done with the stolen property--eh? Now, out with it! Give it up, and it will be better for you when in court." "I haven't any," protested the young man. "Ralph has it all." "Where is he?" "I don't know. He locked me in yonder room and got away." "Got away with the swag? Ah! Just like 'The American'! He did that same trick three years ago. I remember a complaint made by one of your fraternity whom I arrested at Versailles," replied the commissary. "How did he get away?" Adolphe pointed to where the commissary was standing, and the official, looking down, saw, to his surprise, for the first time, the rusty ring in the floor. He bent and tried to raise it, but found it firmly secured. "He's gone!" he cried to the two agents in uniform, who were cyclists, wearing the flat-peaked caps with the arms of the City of Paris upon them. "Go out and scour all the streets in the neighbourhood. You may catch him yet!" Without a second's delay, both men dashed out to do the bidding of their superior officer. Adolphe Carlier was left with the two agents of the Surete--both dark, shrewd little men, broad-shouldered, and short of stature,--while the commissary, who wore the button of the Legion d'Honneur in his overcoat, made a tour of the apartment. Another agent of police, in plain clothes, entered and saluted. "Did you see anything of the fugitive, Leblanc?" asked the commissary eagerly. "Nothing, m'sieur. I came along from the depot, but met nobody." "Search this place," he said. "There is some stolen stuff hidden in this rat-hole, I expect." "I tell you Ralph Ansell has it all," declared the man held by the two officers, who were now allowing him to bandage up his hand, prior to putting handcuffs upon his wrists. "Arrest Ansell, and you will find everything upon him." "Do you live here?" asked the commissary. "No. Ansell lives here with his wife." "His wife! Where is she?" "I don't know. She was here at dinner-time, but now she's gone. She's left him." "Why?" "Because of his brutality." And Adolphe described the scene of the previous night. "We must find her," said the commissary, decisively. "Perhaps she knows something. Ansell and you are the last two members of the Bonnemain gang. Am I not correct?" "Quite, m'sieur." "I thought I was," and the commissary smiled. "Well," he added, "your friend robbed you and threw you right into our hands. No wonder you are ready to give him away." The commissary well knew the ways of criminals, and was also aware with what murderous hatred a man was regarded who robbed his accomplice.