thing like the grand finale of a fireworks display. And it was all over. The volcano had erupted.
"Look sharp!" shouted the Prefect of Police, darting forward. "Telephone for the engines, quick, in case of fire!"
He caught Mazeroux by the arm:
"Run to my motor; you'll see her a hundred yards down the boulevard. Tell the man to drive you to Don Luis, and, if you find him, release him and bring him here."
"Under arrest, Monsieur le Préfet?"
"Under arrest? You're mad!"
"But, if the deputy chief"
"The deputy chief will keep his mouth shut. I'll see to that. Be off!"
Mazeroux fulfilled his mission, not with greater speed than if he had been sent to arrest Don Luis, for Mazeroux was a conscientious man, but with extraordinary pleasure. The fight which he had been obliged to wage against the man whom he still called "the chief" had often distressed him to the point of tears. This time he was coming to help him, perhaps to save his life.
That afternoon the deputy chief had ceased his search of the house, by M. Desmalions's orders, as Don Luis's escape seemed certain, and left only three men on duty. Mazeroux found them in a room on the ground floor, where they were sitting up in turns. In reply to his questions, they declared that they had not heard a sound.
He went upstairs alone, so as to have no witnesses to his interview with the governor, passed through the drawing-room and entered the study.
Here he was overcome with anxiety, for, after turning on the light, the first glance revealed nothing to his eyes.
