to the future Madame de Relzieres.”
“For Jacques de Bartut, Marquis de Relzieres, Prince of Virieux, Duke of Charmerace.”
“His butler, ARSÈNE.”
“Shall I write Arsène?” said Charolais, in a horrified tone.
“Why not?” said Lupin. “It’s your charming name, isn’t it?”
Bonavent pricked up his ears, and looked at Charolais with a new interest.
Charolais shrugged his shoulders, finished the letter, blotted it, put it in an envelope, addressed it, and handed it to Lupin.
“Take this to Mademoiselle Gournay-Martin,” said Lupin, handing it to Bonavent.
Bonavent took the letter, turned, and had taken one step towards the door when Lupin sprang. His arm went round the detective’s neck; he jerked him backwards off his feet, scragging him.
“Stir, and I’ll break your neck!” he cried in a terrible voice; and then he said quietly to Charolais, “Just take my pocket-book out of this fellow’s tunic.”
Charolais, with deft fingers, ripped open the detective’s tunic, and took out the pocket-book.
“This is what they call Jiu-jitsu, old chap! You’ll be able to teach it to your colleagues,” said Lupin. He loosed his grip on Bonavent, and knocked him straight with a thump in the back, and sent him flying across the room. Then he took the pocket-book from Charolais and made sure that its contents were untouched.
“Tell your master from me that if he wants to bring me down he’d better fire the gun himself,” said Lupin contemptuously. “Show the gentleman out, Charolais.”
Bonavent staggered to the door, paused, and turned on Lupin a face livid with fury.
“He will be here himself in ten minutes,” he said.
“Many thanks for the information,” said Lupin quietly.
CHAPTER XXII
THE BARGAIN
Charolais conducted the detective down the stairs and let him out of the front door, cursing and threatening vengeance as he went. Charolais took no notice of his words—he was the well-trained servant. He came back upstairs, and on the landing called to Victoire and Bernard. They came hurrying down; and the three of them went into the smoking-room.
“Now we know where we are,” said Lupin, with cheerful briskness. “Guerchard will be here in ten minutes with a warrant for my arrest. All of you clear out.”
“It won’t be so precious easy. The house is watched,” said Charolais. “And I’ll bet it’s watched back and front.”
“Well, slip out by the secret entrance. They haven’t found that yet,” said Lupin. “And meet me at the house at Passy.”
Charolais and Bernard wanted no more telling; they ran to the book-case and pressed the buttons; the book-case slid aside; the doors opened and disclosed the lift. They stepped into it. Victoire had followed them. She paused and said: “And you? Are you coming?”
“In an instant I shall slip out the same way,” he said.
“I’ll wait for him. You go on,” said Victoire; and the lift went down.
Lupin went to the telephone, rang the bell, and put the receiver to his ear.
“You’ve no time to waste telephoning. They may be here at any moment!” cried Victoire anxiously.
“I must. If I don’t telephone Sonia will come here. She will run right into Guerchard’s arms. Why the devil don’t they answer? They must be deaf!” And he rang the bell again.
“Let’s go to her! Let’s get out of here!” cried Victoire, more anxiously. “There really isn’t any time to waste.”
“Go to her? But I don’t know where she is. I lost my head last night,” cried Lupin, suddenly anxious himself. “Are you there?” he shouted into the telephone. “She’s at a little hotel near the Star.… Are you there?… But there are twenty hotels near the Star.… Are you there?… Oh, I did lose my head last night.… Are you there? Oh, hang this telephone! Here I’m fighting with a piece of furniture. And every second is important!”
He picked up the machine, shook it, saw that the wires were cut, and cried furiously: “Ha! They’ve played the telephone trick on me! That’s Guerchard.… The swine!”
“And now you can come along!” cried Victoire.
“But that’s just what I can’t do!” he cried.
“But there’s nothing more for you to do here, since you can no longer telephone,” said Victoire, bewildered.
Lupin caught her arm and shook her, staring into her face with panic-stricken eyes. “But don’t you understand that, since I haven’t telephoned, she’ll come here?” he cried hoarsely. “Five-and-twenty minutes past eight! At half-past eight she will start—start to come here.”
His face had suddenly grown haggard; this new fear had brought back all the exhaustion of the night; his eyes were panic-stricken.
“But what about you?” said Victoire, wringing her hands.
“What about her?” said Lupin; and his voice thrilled with anguished dread.
“But you’ll gain nothing by destroying both of you—nothing at all.”
“I prefer it,” said Lupin slowly, with a suddenly stubborn air.
“But they’re coming to take you,” cried Victoire, gripping his arm.
“Take me?” cried Lupin, freeing himself quietly from her grip. And he stood frowning, plunged in deep thought, weighing the chances, the risks, seeking a plan, saving devices.
He crossed the room to the writing-table, opened a drawer, and took out a cardboard box about eight inches square and set it on the table.
“They shall never take me alive,” he said gloomily.
“Oh, hush, hush!” said Victoire. “I know very well that you’re capable of anything…and they too—they’ll destroy you. No, look you, you must go. They won’t do anything to her—a child like that—so frail. She’ll get off quite easily. You’re coming, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not,” said Lupin stubbornly.
“Oh, well, if you won’t,” said Victoire; and with an air of resolution she went to the side of the lift-well, and pressed the buttons. The doors closed; the book-case slid across. She sat down and folded her arms.
“What, you’re not going to stop here?” cried Lupin.
“Make me stir if you can. I’m as fond of you as she is—you know I am,” said Victoire, and her face set stonily obstinate.
Lupin begged her to go; ordered her to go; he seized her by the shoulder, shook her, and abused her like a pickpocket. She would not stir. He abandoned the effort, sat down, and knitted his brow again in profound and painful thought, working out his plan. Now and again his eyes flashed, once or twice they twinkled. Victoire watched his face with just the faintest hope on her own.
It was past five-and-twenty minutes to nine when the front-door bell rang. They gazed at one another with an unspoken question on their lips. The eyes of Victoire were scared, but in the eyes of Lupin the light of battle was gathering.
“It’s her,” said Victoire under her breath.
“No,” said Lupin. “It’s Guerchard.”
He sprang to his feet with shining eyes. His lips were curved in a fighting smile. “The game isn’t lost yet,” he said in a tense, quiet voice. “I’m going to play it to the end. I’ve a card or two left still—good cards. I’m still the Duke of Charmerace.”