outwitting me, he can yet easily outwit any police. This man who,
four years ago, introduced himself to the Surete, and became
celebrated as Frederic Larsan, is notorious under another name--a
name well known to crime. Frederic Larsan, Monsieur President,
is Ballmeyer!"

"Ballmeyer!" cried the President.

"Ballmeyer!" exclaimed Robert Darzac, springing to his feet.
"Ballmeyer!--It was true, then!"

"Ah! Monsieur Darzac; you don't think I am mad, now!" cried
Rouletabille.

Ballmeyer! Ballmeyer! No other word could be heard in the
courtroom. The President adjourned the hearing.

Those of my readers who may not have heard of Ballmeyer will wonder
at the excitement the name caused. And yet the doings of this
remarkable criminal form the subject-matter of the most dramatic
narratives of the newspapers and criminal records of the past twenty
years. It had been reported that he was dead, and thus had eluded
the police as he had eluded them throughout the whole of his career.

Ballmeyer was the best specimen of the high-class "gentleman
swindler." He was adept at sleight of hand tricks, and no bolder
or more ruthless crook ever lived. He was received in the best
society, and was a member of some of the most exclusive clubs. On
many of his depredatory expeditions he had not hesitated to use
the knife and the mutton-bone. No difficulty stopped him and no