case."

I remembered it, certainly, for the robbery had been conceived and
carried out with such brilliancy and daring that its details had at
once arrested my attention--to say nothing of the fact that the
diamonds, which formed the celebrated collection belonging to the
Grand Duke Michael, of Russia,--sojourning in Paris because
unappreciated in his native land and also because of the supreme
attraction of the French capital to one of his temperament--were
valued at something like eight million francs.

"That theft," continued M. Pigot, "was accomplished in a manner at
once so bold and so unique that we were certain it could be the work
of but a single man--a rascal named Crochard, who calls himself also
'The Invincible'--a rascal who has given us very great trouble, but
whom we have never been able to convict. In this case, we had against
him no direct evidence; we subjected him to an interrogation and
found that he had taken care to provide a perfect alibi; so we were
compelled to release him. We knew that it would be quite useless to
arrest him unless we should find some of the stolen jewels in his
possession. He appeared as usual upon the boulevards, at the cafés,
everywhere. He laughed in our faces. For us, it was not pleasant; but
our law is strict. For us to accuse a man, to arrest him, and then to
be compelled to own ourselves mistaken, is a very serious matter. But
we did what we could. We kept Crochard under constant surveillance;
we searched his rooms and those of his mistress not once but many
times. On one occasion, when he passed the barrier at Vincennes, our
agents fell upon him and searched him, under pretence of robbing him.

"He was, understand well, not for an instant deceived. He knew