"That's the one I'm curious to see!" said M. Desmalions. "He interests me like the very devil! Did you read the report of the Foreign Legion?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Préfet, and I confess that this gentleman puzzles me, too."
"He does, eh? Did you ever hear of such pluck? A sort of heroic madman, something absolutely wonderful! And then there's that nickname of Arsène Lupin which he earned among his messmates for the way in which he used to boss them and astound them!… How long is it since the death of Arsène Lupin?"
"It happened two years before your appointment, Monsieur le Préfet. His corpse and Mme. Kesselbach's were discovered under the ruins of a little chalet which was burnt down close to the Luxemburg frontier. It was found at the inquest that he had strangled that monster, Mrs. Kesselbach, whose crimes came to light afterward, and that he hanged himself after setting fire to the chalet."
"It was a fitting end for that—rascal," said M. Desmalions, "and I confess that I, for my part, much prefer not having him to fight against. Let's see, where were we? Are the papers of the Mornington inheritance ready for me?"
"On your desk, Monsieur le Préfet."
"Good. But I was forgetting: is Inspector Vérot here?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Préfet, I expect he's in the infirmary getting something to pull him together."
"Why, what's the matter with him?"
"He struck me as being in a queer state—rather ill."
"How do you mean?"
