"Take care, Sire, take care!"

Shouts of alarm ... a great crash from the direction of the chapel.

... The Emperor turned round. He saw a huge rock come rolling down upon him like a whirlwind.

At the same moment, he was seized round the body by the hermit and flung to a distance of ten yards away.

The rock struck against the stone seat where the Emperor had been standing a quarter of a second before and smashed the seat into fragments. But for the hermit, the Emperor would have been killed.

He gave him his hand and said, simply:

"Thank you."

The officers flocked round him.

"It's nothing, gentlemen... . We have escaped with a fright ...

though it was a fine fright, I confess... . All the same, but for the intervention of this worthy man ..."

And, going up to the hermit:

"What is your name, my friend?"

The hermit had kept his head concealed in his hood. He pushed it back an inch or so and, in a very low voice, so as to be heard by none but the Emperor, he said:

"The name of a man, Sire, who is very pleased that you have shaken him by the hand."

The Emperor gave a start and stepped back. Then, at once controlling himself:

"Gentlemen," he said to the officers, "I will ask you to go up to the chapel. More rocks can break loose; and it would perhaps be wise to warn the authorities of the island. You will join me later. I want to thank this good man."

He walked away, accompanied by the hermit. When they were alone, he said:

"You! Why?"

"I had to speak to you, Sire. If I had asked for an audience ... would you have granted my request? I preferred to act directly and I intended to make myself known while Your Imperial Majesty was signing the book, when that stupid accident ..."

"Well?" said the Emperor.

"The letters which I gave Waldemar to hand to you, Sire, are forgeries."

The Emperor made a gesture of keen annoyance:

"Forgeries? Are you sure?"

"Absolutely sure, Sire."

"Yet that Malreich ..."

"Malreich was not the culprit."

"Then who was?"

"I must beg Your Imperial Majesty to treat my answer as secret and confidential. The real culprit was Mrs. Kesselbach."

"Kesselbach's own wife?"

"Yes, Sire. She is dead now. It was she who made or caused to be made the copies which are in your possession. She kept the real letters."

"But where are they?" exclaimed the Emperor. "That is the important thing! They must be recovered at all costs! I attach the greatest value to those letters... ."

"Here they are, Sire."

The Emperor had a moment of stupefaction. He looked at Lupin, looked at the letters, then at Lupin again and pocketed the bundle without examining it.

Clearly, this man was puzzling him once more. Where did this scoundrel spring from who, possessing so terrible a weapon, handed it over like that, generously, unconditionally? It would have been so easy for him to keep the letters and to make such use of them as he pleased! No, he had given his promise and he was keeping his word.

And the Emperor thought of all the astounding things which that man had done.

"The papers said that you were dead," he said.

"Yes, Sire. In reality, I am dead. And the police of my country, glad to be rid of me, have buried the charred and unrecognizable remains of my body."

"Then you are free?"

"As I always have been."

"And nothing attaches you to anything?"

"Nothing, Sire."

"In that case ..."

The Emperor hesitated and then, explicitly:

"In that case, enter my service. I offer you the command of my private police. You shall be the absolute master. You shall have full power, even over the other police."

"No, Sire."

"Why not?"

"I am a Frenchman."

There was a pause. The Emperor was evidently pleased with the answer. He said:

"Still, as you say that no link attaches you ..."

"That is, one, Sire, which nothing can sever." And he added, laughing, "I am dead as a man, but alive as a Frenchman. I am sure that Your Imperial Majesty will understand."

The Emperor took a few steps up and down. Then he said: