"Oh, you old fox, you were expecting some one!"
The captive's eyes gleamed with hope. He could be heard chuckling under the hand that stifled him.
The stranger shook with rage:
"Hold your tongue, or I'll strangle you! Here, Marco, gag him! Quick! . . . That's it!"
The bell rang again. He shouted, as though he himself were Kesselbach and as though Edwards were still there:
"Why don't you open the door, Edwards?"
Then he went softly into the lobby and, pointing to the secretary and the manservant, whispered:
"Marco, help me shift these two into the bedroom . . . over there . . . so that they can't be seen."
He lifted the secretary. Marco carried the servant.
"Good! Now go back to the sitting-room."
He followed him in and at once returned to the lobby and said, in a loud tone of astonishment:
"Why, your man's not here, Mr. Kesselbach. . . . No, don't move . . . finish your letter. . . . I'll go myself."
And he quietly opened the hall-door.
"Mr. Kesselbach?"
He found himself faced by a sort of jovial, bright-eyed giant, who stood swinging from one foot to the other and twisting the brim of his hat between his fingers. He answered:
"Yes, that's right. Who shall I say. . . ?"
"Mr. Kesselbach telephoned. . . . He expects me. . . ."
"Oh, it's you. . . . I'll tell him. . . . Do you mind waiting a minute? . . . Mr. Kesselbach will speak to you."
He had the audacity to leave the visitor standing on the threshold of the little entrance-hall, at a place from which he could see a portion of the sitting-room through the open door, and, slowly, without so much as turning round, he entered the room, went to his confederate by Mr. Kesselbach's side and whispered:
"We're done! It's Gourel, the detective. . . ."
The other drew his knife. He caught him by the arm:
"No nonsense! I have an idea. But, for God's sake, Marco, understand me and speak in your turn. Speak as if you were Kesselbach. . . . You hear, Marco! You are Kesselbach."
He expressed himself so coolly, so forcibly and with such authority that Marco understood, without further explanation, that he himself was to play the part of Kesselbach. Marco said, so as to be heard:
"You must apologize for me, my dear fellow. Tell M. Gourel I'm awfully sorry, but I'm over head and ears in work. . . . I will see him to-morrow morning, at nine . . . yes, at nine o'clock punctually."
"Good!" whispered the other. "Don't stir."
He went back to the lobby, found Gourel waiting, and said:
"Mr. Kesselbach begs you to excuse him. He is finishing an important piece of work. Could you possibly come back at nine o'clock to-morrow morning?"
There was a pause. Gourel seemed surprised, more or less bothered and undecided. The other man's hand clutched the handle of a knife at the bottom of his pocket. At the first suspicious movement, he was prepared to strike.
At last, Gourel said:
"Very well. . . . At nine o'clock to-morrow. . . . But, all the same . . . However, I shall be here at nine to-morrow. . . ."
And, putting on his hat, he disappeared down the passage of the hotel.
Marco, in the sitting-room, burst out laughing:
"That was jolly clever of you, governor! Oh, how nicely you spoofed him!"
"Look alive, Marco, and follow him. If he leaves the hotel, let him be, meet Jérôme at the omnibus-office as arranged . . . and telephone."
Marco went away quickly.
Then the man took a water-bottle on the chimneypiece, poured himself out a tumblerful, which he swallowed at a draught, wetted his handkerchief, dabbed his forehead, which was covered with perspiration, and then sat down beside his prisoner and, with an affectation of politeness, said:
"But I must really have the honor, Mr. Kesselbach, of introducing myself to you."
And, taking a card from his pocket, he said: "Allow me. . . . Arsène Lupin, gentleman-burglar."
The name of the famous adventurer seemed to make the best of impressions upon Mr. Kesselbach. Lupin did not fail to observe the fact and exclaimed:
"Aha, my dear sir, you breathe again! Arsène Lupin is a delicate, squeamish burglar. He loathes bloodshed, he has never committed a more serious crime than that of annexing other people's property . . . a mere peccadillo, eh? And what you're saying to yourself is that he is not going to burden his conscience with a useless murder. Quite so. . . . But will your destruction be so useless as all that? Everything depends on the answer. And I assure you that I'm not larking at present. Come on, old chap!"
He drew up his chair beside the arm-chair, removed the prisoner's gag and, speaking very plainly:
"Mr. Kesselbach," he said, "on the day when you arrived in Paris you entered into relations with one Barbareux, the manager of a confidential inquiry agency; and, as you were acting without the knowledge of your secretary, Chapman, it was arranged that the said Barbareux, when communicating with you by letter or telephone, should call himself 'the Colonel.' I hasten to tell you that Barbareux is a perfectly honest man. But I have the good fortune to number one of his clerks among my own particular friends. That is how I discovered the motive of your application to Barbareux and how I came to interest myself in you and to make a search or two here, with the assistance of a set of false keys . . . in the course of which search or two, I may as well tell you, I did not find what I was looking for."
He lowered his voice and, with his eyes fixed on the eyes of his prisoner, watching his expression, searching his secret thoughts, he uttered these words:
"Mr. Kesselbach, your instructions to Barbareux were that he should find a man hidden somewhere in the slums of Paris who bears or used to bear the name of Pierre Leduc. The man answers to this brief description: height, five feet nine inches; hair and complexion, fair; wears a moustache. Special mark: the tip of the little finger of the left hand is missing, as the result of a cut. Also, he has an almost imperceptible scar on the right cheek. You seem to attach enormous importance to this man's discovery, as though it might lead to some great advantage to yourself. Who is the man?"
"I don't know."
The answer was positive, absolute. Did he know or did he not know? It made little difference. The great thing was that he was determined not to speak.
"Very well," said his adversary, "but you have fuller particulars about him than those with which you furnished Barbareux."
"I have not."
"You lie, Mr. Kesselbach. Twice, in Barbareux's presence, you consulted papers contained in the morocco case."
"I did."
"And the case?"
"Burnt."
Lupin quivered with rage. The thought of torture and of the facilities which it used to offer was evidently passing through his mind again.
"Burnt? But the box? . . . Come, own up . . . confess that the box is at the Crédit Lyonnais."
"Yes."
"And what's inside it?"
"The finest two hundred diamonds in my private collection."
This statement did not seem to displease the adventurer.
"Aha, the finest two hundred diamonds! But, I say, that's a fortune! . . . Yes, that makes you smile. . . . It's a trifle to you, no doubt. . . .