have the honour of speaking, but with Monsieur 'Castigat Ridendo.'
Permit me to congratulate you--personally, as well as the writer
for the 'Epoque.'" And Rouletabille, having first introduced me,
introduced himself.

Monsieur de Marquet, with a nervous gesture, caressed his beard into
a point, and explained to Rouletabille, in a few words, that he was
too modest an author to desire that the veil of his pseudonym should
be publicly raised, and that he hoped the enthusiasm of the
journalist for the dramatist's work would not lead him to tell the
public that Monsieur "Castigat Ridendo" and the examining magistrate
of Corbeil were one and the same person.

"The work of the dramatic author may interfere," he said, after a
slight hesitation, "with that of the magistrate, especially in a
province where one's labours are little more than routine."

"Oh, you may rely on my discretion!" cried Rouletabille.

The train was in motion.

"We have started!" said the examining magistrate, surprised at
seeing us still in the carriage.

"Yes, Monsieur,--truth has started," said Rouletabile, smiling
amiably,--"on its way to the Chateau du Glandier. A fine case,
Monsieur de Marquet,--a fine case!"

"An obscure--incredible, unfathomable, inexplicable affair--and
there is only one thing I fear, Monsieur Rouletabille,--that the