The chief commissary, much astonished, regarded me at first with suspicion. "My God, monsieur," said I to him, "the disappearance of these articles of furniture coincides strangely with that of the merchant." He laughed. "That is true. You did wrong in buying and paying for the articles which were your own property, yesterday. It was that that gave him the cue." "What seems to me incomprehensible," I replied, "is, that all the places that were occupied by my furniture are now filled by other furniture." "Oh!" responded the commissary, "he has had all night, and has no doubt been assisted by accomplices. This house must communicate with its neighbors. But have no fear, monsieur; I will have the affair promptly and thoroughly investigated. The brigand shall not escape us for long, seeing that we are in charge of the den." * * * * * Ah! My heart, my heart, my poor heart, how it beat! I remained a fortnight at Rouen. The man did not return. Heavens! good heavens! That man, what was it that could have frightened and surprised him! But, on the sixteenth day, early in the morning, I received from my gardener, now the keeper of my empty and pillaged house, the following strange letter: * * * * * Monsieur: I have the honor to inform monsieur, that there happened something, the evening before last, which nobody can understand, and the police no more than the rest of us. The whole of the furniture has been returned, not one piece is missing--everything is in its place, up to the very smallest article. The house is now the same in every respect as it was before the robbery took place. It is enough to make one lose one's head. The thing took place during the night Friday--Saturday. The roads are dug up as though the whole barrier had been dragged from its place up to the door. The same thing was observed the day after the disappearance of the furniture. We are anxiously expecting monsieur, whose very humble and obedient servant, I am, Raudin, Phillipe. * * * * * Ah! no, no, ah! never, never, ah! no. I shall never return there! I took the letter to the commissary of police. "It is a very dexterous restitution," said he. "Let us bury the hatchet. We shall, however, nip the man one of these days." But he has never been nipped. No. They have not nipped him, and I am afraid of him now, as though he were a ferocious animal that had been let loose behind me. Inexplicable! It is inexplicable, this monster of a moon-struck skull! We shall never get to comprehend it. I shall not return to my former residence. What does it matter to me? I am afraid of encountering that man again, and I shall not run the risk. I shall not risk it! I shall not risk it! I shall not risk it!