“It is there no longer! It has been stolen! Look for the flagon containing the war powder, which was on the table. Disappeared!” “Stolen? By whom?” “Perhaps by the same person who set fire to the works? Whose blood is that on the floor? Uncle Graff, we have brought about our heads a terrible stream of enemies. Think of what has happened concerning the inventions of M. de Trémont. There has been a whole band of rascals at work for months, bent on stealing these secrets at whatever cost, and in face of the greatest difficulties! My father guessed this, for it was with the utmost trouble that I succeeded in obtaining his permission to continue this discovery. Baudoin knew it, for he asked my permission to keep watch in the laboratory. It was the excitement caused by the fire which forced him to quit his post; doubtless, had he stayed here, he, too, would have lost his life. But whose blood is this that has been shed?” “Come, my child, do calm yourself,” said the old man, alarmed at the increasing agitation of his nephew. “Speak, Baudoin, tell us all you know.” “Monsieur Graff, I know who has fallen here, and I know, too, whose hand struck the blow. The victim is a man devoted to our cause, who, from the very first, had scented the culprits. He could not help the robbery being committed, and, had he not been killed, he would certainly have arrested the thief.” “And who is the man who struck him?” “Ah! This is by no means the first attempt. He is a determined villain; all the troubles in the district have been caused by this man. It is he who started the conflagration. He who stabbed General de Trémont. It is the man of Vanves. In a word, it is Hans!” “How do you know this?” “Because I have seen him. Laforêt, whom I had sent for to keep a watch on these people whom I suspected, and who has doubtless paid with his life for his zeal and devotion, followed him last night, and we both spent part of the night in tracking his movements. We were present at his conferences with the leaders of the strike at the Soleil d’Or. We heard him give his orders to his acolytes. It is he our unhappy workmen obeyed, without knowing it, seduced as they were by the rabid language of the leaders. This is the villain who, secretly, and from a distance, directed the riot, and set fire to the works!” “But how could he know that the written formula was in the table of the laboratory? Why did he come here?” “He came here because I ran off to the fire and left my post. He has, somehow or other, received precise information.” Baudoin stopped. He gave his young master a look of anguish. “Ah, Monsieur Marcel, must I speak? Will you pardon me?” Marcel turned pale. All the same he said, in firm tones— “Speak. I insist upon it.” “Well, then, this man, for the past week, has been living at the Villa de la Cavée.” “Impossible!” exclaimed Marcel. “Hans! This villain?”