The baron afterwards regretted making the charge against Lupin
when he saw his castle delivered over to the gendarmes, the
procureur, the judge d'instruction, the newspaper reporters and
photographers, and a throng of idle curiosity-seekers.

The affair soon became a topic of general discussion, and the name
of Arsene Lupin excited the public imagination to such an extent
that the newspapers filled their columns with the most fantastic
stories of his exploits which found ready credence amongst their
readers.

But the letter of Arsene Lupin that was published in the `Echo de
France' (no once ever knew how the newspaper obtained it), that
letter in which Baron Cahorn was impudently warned of the coming
theft, caused considerable excitement. The most fabulous theories
were advanced. Some recalled the existence of the famous
subterranean tunnels, and that was the line of research pursued by
the officers of the law, who searched the house from top to
bottom, questioned every stone, studied the wainscoting and the
chimneys, the window-frames and the girders in the ceilings. By
the light of torches, they examined the immense cellars where the
lords of Malaquis were wont to store their munitions and
provisions. They sounded the rocky foundation to its very centre.
But it was all in vain. They discovered no trace of a subterranean
tunnel. No secret passage existed.

But the eager public declared that the pictures and furniture
could not vanish like so many ghosts. They are substantial,
material things and require doors and windows for their exits and
their entrances, and so do the people that remove them. Who were