Without thinking what he was doing, the deputy chief pushed Don Luis aside and took hold of the receiver. The thought of the poisoned wound was too much for him.
"Are you there?" he cried, keeping an eye on Don Luis and motioning to him not to go away. "Are you there?… Eh?… It's Deputy Chief Weber, of the detective office, speaking.… Hullo! Are you there?… I want to know about Sergeant Mazeroux.… Are you there?… Oh, hang it, why don't you answer!"
Suddenly he let go the instrument, looked at the wires, perceived that they had been cut, and turned round, showing a face that clearly expressed the thought in his mind.
"That's done it. I've been tricked!"
Perenna was standing a couple of yards behind him, leaning carelessly against the woodwork of the arch, with his left hand passed between his back and the woodwork. He was smiling, smiling pleasantly, kindly, and genially:
"Don't move!" he said, with a gesture of his right hand.
Weber, more frightened by that smile than he would have been by threats, took good care not to move.
"Don't move," repeated Don Luis, in a very queer voice. "And, whatever you do, don't be alarmed. You shan't be hurt, I promise you. Just five minutes in a dark cell for a naughty little boy. Are you ready? One two, three! Bang!"
He stood aside and pressed the button that worked the iron curtain. The heavy panel came crashing to the floor. The deputy chief was a prisoner.
"That's a hundred millions gone to Jericho," grinned
