AT SEVEN O'CLOCK IN the evening, astonished at receiving no news, the head of the detective-service, M. Dudouis, called at the Rue Clapeyron in person. He put a few questions to the men who were watching the house and then went up to Maître Detinan, who took him to his room. There he saw a man, or rather a man's two legs struggling on the carpet, while the body to which they belonged was stuffed up the chimney.
"Hi!... Hi!... " yelped a stifled voice.
And a more distant voice, from right above, echoed:
"Hi!... Hi!... "
M. Dudouis laughed and exclaimed:
"Well, Ganimard, what are you playing sweep for?"
The inspector withdrew his body from the chimney. He was unrecognizable, with his black face, his sooty clothes and his eyes glowing with fever.
"I'm looking for him," he growled.
"Fo
