I were not the Duke of Charmerace?”
“Not the Duke?”
“If I were not an honest man?” said Lupin.
“You?” cried Sonia.
“If I were a thief? If I were—”
“Arsène Lupin,” jeered Guerchard from the door.
Lupin turned and held out his manacled wrists for her to see.
“Arsène Lupin!… it’s…it’s true!” stammered Sonia. “But then, but then…it must be for my sake that you’ve given yourself up. And it’s for me you’re going to prison. Oh, Heavens! How happy I am!”
She sprang to him, threw her arms round his neck, and pressed her lips to his.
“And that’s what women call repenting,” said Guerchard.
He shrugged his shoulders, went out on to the landing, and called to the policeman in the hall to bid the driver of the prison-van, which was waiting, bring it up to the door.
“Oh, this is incredible!” cried Lupin, in a trembling voice; and he kissed Sonia’s lips and eyes and hair. “To think that you love me enough to go on loving me in spite of this—in spite of the fact that I’m Arsène Lupin. Oh, after this, I’ll become an honest man! It’s the least I can do. I’ll retire.”
“You will?” cried Sonia.
“Upon my soul, I will!” cried Lupin; and he kissed her again and again.
Guerchard came back into the room. He looked at them with a cynical grin, and said, “Time’s up.”
“Oh, Guerchard, after so many others, I owe you the best minute of my life!” cried Lupin.
Bonavent, still in his porter’s livery, came hurrying through the anteroom: “Master,” he cried, “I’ve found it.”
“Found what?” said Guerchard.
“The secret entrance. It opens into that little side street. We haven’t got the door open yet; but we soon shall.”
“The last link in the chain,” said Guerchard, with warm satisfaction. “Come along, Lupin.”
“But he’s going to take you away! We’re going to be separated!” cried Sonia, in a sudden anguish of realization.
“It’s all the same to me now!” cried Lupin, in the voice of a conqueror.
“Yes, but not to me!” cried Sonia, wringing her hands.
“Now you must keep calm and go. I’m not going to prison,” said Lupin, in a low voice. “Wait in the hall, if you can. Stop and talk to Victoire; condole with her. If they turn you out of the house, wait close to the front door.”
“Come, mademoiselle,” said Guerchard. “You must go.”
“Go, Sonia, go—good-bye—good-bye,” said Lupin; and he kissed her.
She went quietly out of the room, her handkerchief to her eyes. Guerchard held open the door for her, and kept it open, with his hand still on the handle; he said to Lupin: “Come along.”
Lupin yawned, stretched himself, and said coolly, “My dear Guerchard, what I want after the last two nights is rest—rest.” He walked quickly across the room and stretched himself comfortably at full length on the couch.
“Come, get up,” said Guerchard roughly. “The prison-van is waiting for you. That ought to fetch you out of your dream.”
“Really, you do say the most unlucky things,” said Lupin gaily.
He had resumed his flippant, light-hearted air; his voice rang as lightly and pleasantly as if he had not a care in the world.
“Do you mean that you refuse to come?” cried Guerchard in a rough, threatening tone.
“Oh, no,” said Lupin quickly: and he rose.
“Then come along!” said Guerchard.
“No,” said Lupin, “after all, it’s too early.” Once more he stretched himself out on the couch, and added languidly, “I’m lunching at the English Embassy.”
“Now, you be careful!” cried Guerchard angrily. “Our parts are changed. If you’re snatching at a last straw, it’s waste of time. All your tricks—I know them. Understand, you rogue, I know them.”
“You know them?” said Lupin with a smile, rising. “It’s fatality!”
He stood before Guerchard, twisting his hands and wrists curiously. Half a dozen swift movements; and he held out his handcuffs in one hand and threw them on the floor.
“Did you know that trick, Guerchard? One of these days I shall teach you to invite me to lunch,” he said slowly, in a mocking tone; and he gazed at the detective with menacing, dangerous eyes.
“Come, come, we’ve had enough of this!” cried Guerchard, in mingled astonishment, anger, and alarm. “Bonavent! Boursin! Dieusy! Here! Help! Help!” he shouted.
“Now listen, Guerchard, and understand that I’m not humbugging,” said Lupin quickly, in clear, compelling tones. “If Sonia, just now, had had one word, one gesture of contempt for me, I’d have given way—yielded…half-yielded, at any rate; for, rather than fall into your triumphant clutches, I’d have blown my brains out. I’ve now to choose between happiness, life with Sonia, or prison. Well, I’ve chosen. I will live happy with her, or else, my dear Guerchard, I’ll die with you. Now let your men come—I’m ready for them.”
Guerchard ran to the door and shouted again.
“I think the fat’s in the fire now,” said Lupin, laughing.
He sprang to the table, opened the cardboard box, whipped off the top layer of cotton-wool, and took out a shining bomb.
He sprang to the wall, pressed the button, the bookshelf glided slowly to one side, the lift rose to the level of the floor and its doors flew open just as the detectives rushed in.
“Collar him!” yelled Guerchard.
“Stand back—hands up!” cried Lupin, in a terrible voice, raising his right hand high above his head. “You know what this is…a bomb.… Come and collar me now, you swine!… Hands up, you…Guerchard!”
“You silly funks!” roared Guerchard. “Do you think he’d dare?”
“Come and see!” cried Lupin.
“I will!” cried Guerchard. And he took a step forward.
As one man his detectives threw themselves upon him. Three of them gripped his arms, a fourth gripped him round the waist; and they all shouted at him together, not to be a madman!… To look at Lupin’s eyes!… That Lupin was off his head!
“What miserable swine you are!” cried Lupin scornfully. He sprang forward, caught up the kit-bag in his left hand, and tossed it behind him into the lift. “You dirty crew!” he cried again. “Oh, why isn’t there a photographer here? And now, Guerchard, you thief, give me back my pocket-book.”
“Never!” screamed Guerchard, struggling with his men, purple with fury.
“Oh, Lord, master! Do be careful! Don’t rile him!” cried Bonavent in an agony.
“What? Do you want me to smash up the whole lot?” roared Lupin, in a furious, terrible voice. “Do I look as if I were bluffing, you fools?”
“Let him have his way, master!” cried Dieusy.
“Yes, yes!” cried Bonavent.
“Let him have his way!” cried another.
“Give him his pocket-book!” cried a third.
“Never!” howled Guerchard.
“It’s