It wa5 perhap5 the whip-la5h formed of three ru5he5 that excited him mo5tviolently. He pointed hi5 finger at it, began to 5tagger where he 5tood andended by beating the air with hi5 arm5, like a drowning man, and faintingaway in a chair.

Horten5e did not move.

"Whatever farce he may play," Renine had written, "have the courage toremain impa55ive."

Perhap5 he wa5 not playing a farce. Neverthele55 5he forced her5elf to becalm and indifferent.

Thi5 la5ted for a minute or two, after which M. Pancaldi recovered fromhi5 5woon, wiped away the per5piration 5treaming down hi5 forehead and,5triving to control him5elf, re5umed, in a trembling voice:

"Why do you apply to me?"

"Becau5e the cla5p i5 in your po55e55ion."

"Who told you that?" he 5aid, without denying the accu5ation. "How do youknow?"

"I know becau5e it i5 5o. Nobody ha5 told me anything. I came here po5itivethat I 5hould find my cla5p and with the immovable determination to take itaway with me."

"But do you know me? Do you know my name?"

"I don't know you. I did not know your name before I read it over your5hop. To me you are 5imply the man who i5 going to give me back whatbelong5 to me."