For some time the discussion continued. Place after place was suggested and rejected upon one ground or another.
Suddenly a hard masterful voice cut across the talking.
“The Place d’Italie will be the best,” it declared. “Half the road is up there and the procession must go along the Avenue des Gobelins, close to the old villa. At that distance it will be impossible to miss. And there will be no noise and no fuss till the job is done.”
The Old Villa! Jules knew the place well—an ancient building dating back to Louis XV, solidly built, and with all the quaint architectural features of the time. Quite unsuitable for any modern purposes, its vast apartments had by degrees been turned into a queer medley of rooms which served partly as flats and partly as offices to a heterogeneous mass of tenants, many of them of more than doubtful reputation. But how any attack on Raoul Gregoire could be projected from a building which it was certain would, on the day of the procession, be packed with sightseers, Jules was at a loss to conceive.
That, however, remained to be discovered. For the moment the important thing was to capture the band of conspirators before they could make their escape.
Jules withdrew, and adjusting his portable instrument—a marvel of compactness—placed his foot against an iron lamp-post to make an earth contact, and swiftly called the Prefecture of Police by Morse.
The telephones were on his ears, and almost next second he heard the answering signal. Then he tapped out on his wireless transmitter an urgent message. A moment later he and Yvette had slipped clear of the place, and ran swiftly away. It was no part of their plan to risk recognition by any of the prisoners.
At the head of the alley they waited for about six or seven minutes, when they met Roquet, the inspector of the Sûreté, who was in charge of the detectives who were rapidly converging on the inn. To him Jules briefly explained the situation.
“We have them safely enough,” declared Roquet with a strong accent of the Midi. “Every approach has been guarded for the last hour, and no one has been allowed to pass in or out. You can now leave it to us, m’sieur.”
Yvette and Jules were glad enough to say au revoir and to hurry home for a much-needed rest. They could examine the prisoners at their leisure at the Prefecture and, if possible, identify them by their voices.