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He went back to his chair:
"Let's finish our lunch. But as I like proving the virtues to which I lay claim, and as, on the other hand, I don't want to hurt your cook's feelings, just pass me that plate of cakes."
He took one of them, broke it in two and held out one half to the baron:
"Eat that!"
The other gave a movement of recoil.
"Funk!" said Sernine.
And, before the wondering eyes of the baron and his satellites, he began to eat the first and then the second half of the cake, quietly, conscientiously, as a man eats a dainty of which he would hate to miss the smallest morsel.
They met again.
That same evening, Prince Sernine invited Baron Altenheim to dinner at the Cabaret Vatel, with a party consisting of a poet, a musician, a financier and two pretty actresses, members of the Théâtre Français.
The next day, they lunched together in the Bois and, at night, they met at the Opéra.
They saw each other every day for a week. One would have thought that they could not do without each other and that they were united by a great friendship, built up of mutual confidence, sympathy and esteem.
They had a capital time, drinking good wine, smoking excellent cigars, and laughing like two madmen.
In reality, they were watching each other fiercely. Mortal enemies, separated by a merciless hatred, each feeling sure of winning and longing for victory with an unbridled will, they waited for the propitious moment: Altenheim to do away with Sernine; and Sernine to hurl Altenheim into the pit which he was digging for him.
Each knew that the catastrophe could not be long delayed. One or other of them must meet with his doom; and it was a question of hours, or, at most, of days.
It was an exciting tragedy, and one of which a man like Sernine was bound to relish the strange and powerful zest. To know your adversary and to live by his side; to feel that death is waiting for you at the least false step, at the least act of thoughtlessness: what a joy, what a delight!
One evening, they were alone together in the garden of the Rue Cambon Club, to which Altenheim also belonged. It was the hour before dusk, in the month of June, at which men begin to dine before the members come in for the evening's card-play. They were strolling round a little lawn, along which ran a wall lined with shrubs. Beyond the shrubs was a small door. Suddenly, while Altenheim was speaking, Sernine received the impression that his voice became less steady, that it was almost trembling. He watched him out of the corner of his eye. Altenheim had his hand in the pocket of his jacket; and Sernine saw that hand, through the cloth, clutch the handle of a dagger, hesitating, wavering, resolute and weak by turns.
O exquisite moment! Was he going to strike? Which would gain the day: the timid instinct that dare not, or the conscious will, intense upon the act of killing?
His chest flung out, his arms behind his back, Sernine waited, with alternate thrills of pleasure and of pain. The baron had ceased talking; and they now walked on in silence, side by side.
"Well, why don't you strike?" cried the prince, impatiently. He had stopped and, turning to his companion: "Strike!" he said. "This is the time or never. There is no one to see you. You can slip out through that little door; the key happens to be hanging on the wall; and good-bye, baron.. unseen and unknown!.. But, of course, all this was arranged.. you brought me here… And you're hesitating! Why on earth don't you strike?"
He looked him straight in the eyes. The other was livid, quivering with impotent strength.
"You milksop!" Sernine sneered. "I shall never make anything of you. Shall I tell you the truth? Well, you're afraid of me. Yes, old chap, you never feel quite sure what may happen to you when you're face to face with me. You want to act, whereas it's my acts, my possible acts that govern the situation. No, it's quite clear that you're not the man yet to put out my star!"
He had not finished speaking when he felt himself seized round the throat and dragged backward. Some one hiding in the shrubbery, near the little door, had caught him by the head. He saw a hand raised, armed with a knife with a gleaming blade. The hand fell; the point of the knife caught him right in the throat.
At the same moment Altenheim sprang upon him to finish him off; and they rolled over into the flower-borders. It was a matter of twenty or thirty seconds at most. Powerful and experienced wrestler as he was, Altenheim yielded almost immediately, uttering a cry of pain. Sernine rose and ran to the little door, which had just closed upon a dark form. It was too late. He heard the key turn in the lock. He was unable to open it.
"Ah, you scoundrel!" he said. "The day on which I catch you will be the day on which I shed my first blood! That I swear to God!."
He went back, stooped and picked up the pieces of the knife, which had broken as it struck him.
Altenheim was beginning to move. Sernine asked:
"Well, baron, feeling better? You didn't know that blow, eh? It's what I call the direct blow in the solar plexus; that is to say, it snuffs out your vital sun like a candle. It's clean, quick, painless.. and infallible. Whereas a blow with a dagger..? Pooh! A man has only to wear a little steel-wove gorget, as I do, and he can set the whole world at defiance, especially your little pal in black, seeing that he always strikes at the throat, the silly monster!.. Here, look at his favorite plaything.. smashed to atoms!"
He offered him his hand:
"Come, get up, baron. You shall dine with me. And do please remember the secret of my superiority: an undaunted soul in an unassailable body."
He went back to the club rooms, reserved a table for two, sat down on a sofa, and while waiting for dinner, soliloquized, under his breath:
"It's certainly an amusing game, but it's becoming dangerous. I must get it over.. otherwise those beggars will send me to Paradise earlier than I want to go. The nuisance is that I can't do anything before I find old Steinweg, for, when all is said, old Steinweg is the only interesting factor in the whole business; and my one reason for sticking to the baron is that I keep on hoping to pick up some clue or other. What the devil have they done with him? Altenheim is in daily communication with him: that is beyond a doubt; it is equally beyond a doubt that he is doing his utmost to drag out of him what he knows about the Kesselbach scheme. But where does he see him? Where has he got him shut up? With friends? In his own house, at 29, Villa Dupont?"
He reflected for some time, then lit a cigarette, took three puffs at it and threw it away. This was evidently a signal, for two young men came and sat down beside him. He did not seem to know them, but he conversed with them by stealth. It was the brothers Doudeville, got up that day like men of fashion.
"What is it, governor?"
"Take six of our men, go to 29, Villa Dupont and make your way in."
"The devil! How?"
"In the name of the law. Are you not detective-inspectors? A search.."
"But we haven't the right.."
"Take it."
"And the servants? If they resist?"
"There are only four of them."
"If they call out?"
"They won't call out."
"If Altenheim returns?"
"He won't return before ten o'clock. I'll see to it. That gives you two hours and a half, which is more than you require to explore the house from top to bottom. If you find old Steinweg, come and tell me."
Baron Altenheim came up. Sernine went to meet him:
"Let's have some dinner, shall we? That little incident in the garden has made me feel hungry. By the way, my dear baron, I have a few bits of advice to give you.."
They sat down to table.
After dinner, Sernine suggested a game of billiards. Altenheim accepted. When the game was over, they went to the baccarat-room. The croupier was just shouting:
"There are fifty louis in the bank. Any bids?"
"A hundred louis," said Altenheim.
Sernine looked at his watch. Ten o'clock. The Doudevilles had not returned. The search, therefore, had been fruitless.
"Banco," he said.
Altenheim sat down and dealt the cards:
"I give."
"No."
"Seven."
"Six. I lose," said Sernine. "Shall I double the stakes?"
"Very well," said the baron.
He dealt out the cards.
"Eight," said Sernine.
"Nine," said the baron, laying his cards down.
Sernine turned on his heels, muttering:
"That costs me three hundred louis, but I don't mind; it fixes him here."
Ten minutes later his motor set him down in front of 29, Villa Dupont; and he found the Doudevilles and their men collected in the hall:
"Have you hunted out the old boy?"
"No."
"Dash it! But he must be somewhere or other. Where are the four servants?"
"Over there, in the pantry, tied up, with the cook as well."
"Good. I would as soon they did not see me. Go all you others. Jean, stay outside and keep watch: Jacques, show me over the house."
He quickly ran through the cellar, the ground floor, the first and second floors and the attic. He practically stopped nowhere, knowing that he would not discover in a few minutes what his men had not been able to discover in three hours. But he carefully noted the shape and the arrangement of the rooms, and looked for some little detail which would put him on the scent.
When he had finished, he returned to a bedroom which Doudeville had told him was Altenheim's, and examined it attentively:
"This will do," he said, raising a curtain that concealed a dark closet, full of clothes. "From here I can see the whole of the room."
"But if the baron searches the house?"
"Why should he?"
"He will know that we have been here, through his servants."
"Yes, but he will never dream that one of us is putting up here for the night. He will think that the attempt failed, that is all, so I shall stay."
"And how will you get out?"
"Oh, that's asking me more than I can tell you! The great thing was to get in. Here I am, and here I stay. Go, Doudeville, and shut the doors as you go."
He sat down on a little box at the back of the cupboard. Four rows of hanging clothes protected him. Except in the case of a close investigation, he was evidently quite safe.
Two hours passed. He heard the dull sound of a horse's hoofs and the tinkling of a collar-bell. A carriage stopped, the front door slammed and almost immediately he heard voices, exclamations, a regular outcry that increased, probably, as each of the prisoners was released from his gag.
"They are explaining the thing to him," he thought. "The baron must be in a tearing rage. He now understands the reason for my conduct at the club to-night and sees that I have dished him nicely… Dished? That depends… After all, I haven't got Steinweg yet… That is the first thing that he will want to know: did they get Steinweg? To find this out, he will go straight to the hiding-place. If he goes up, it means that the hiding-place is upstairs. If he goes down, then it is in the basement."
He listened. The sound of voices continued in the rooms on the ground floor, but it did not seem as if any one were moving. Altenheim must be cross-examining his confederates. It was half an hour before Sernine heard steps mounting the staircase.
"Then it must be upstairs," he said to himself. "But why did they wait so long?"
"Go to bed, all of you," said Altenheim's voice.
The baron entered his room with one of his men and shut the door:
"And I am going to bed, too, Dominique. We should be no further if we sat arguing all night."
"My opinion is," said the other, "that he came to fetch Steinweg."
"That is my opinion, too; and that's why I'm really enjoying myself, seeing that Steinweg isn't here."
"But where is he, after all? What have you done with him?"
"That's my secret; and you know I keep my secrets to myself. All that I can tell you is that he is in safe keeping, and that he won't get out before he has spoken."
"So the prince is sold?"
"Sold is the word. And he has had to fork out to attain this fine result! Oh, I've had a good time to-night!.. Poor prince!"
"For all that," said the other, "we shall have to get rid of him."
"Make your mind easy, old man; that won't take long. Before a week's out you shall have a present of a pocket-book made out of Lupin-skin. But let me go to bed now. I'm dropping with sleep."
There was a sound of the door closing. Then Sernine heard the baron push the bolt, empty his pockets, wind up his watch and undress. He seemed in a gay mood, whistling and singing, and even talking aloud:
"Yes, a Lupin-skin pocket-book.. in less than a week.. in less than four days!.. Otherwise he'll eat us up, the bully!.. No matter, he missed his shot to-night… His calculation was right enough, though.. Steinweg was bound to be here… Only, there you are!."
He got into bed and at once switched off the light.
Sernine had come forward as far as the dividing curtain, which he now lifted slightly, and he saw the vague light of the night filtering through the windows, leaving the bed in profound darkness.
He hesitated. Should he leap out upon the baron, take him by the throat and obtain from him by force and threats what he had not been able to obtain by craft? Absurd? Altenheim would never allow himself to be intimidated.
"I say, he's snoring now," muttered Sernine. "Well, I'm off. At the worst, I shall have wasted a night."
He did not go. He felt that it would be impossible for him to go, that he must wait, that chance might yet serve his turn.
With infinite precautions, he took four or five coats and great-coats from their hooks, laid them on the floor, made himself comfortable and, with his back to the wall, went peacefully to sleep.
The baron was not an early riser. A clock outside was striking nine when he got out of bed and rang for his servant.
He read the letters which his man brought him, splashed about in his tub, dressed without saying a word and sat down to his table to write, while Dominique was carefully hanging up the clothes of the previous day in the cupboard and Sernine asking himself, with his fists ready to strike:
"I wonder if I shall have to stave in this fellow's solar plexus?"
At ten o'clock the baron was ready:
"Leave me," said he to the servant.
"There's just this waistcoat.."
"Leave me, I say. Come back when I ring.. not before."
He shut the door himself, like a man who does not trust others, went to a table on which a telephone was standing and took down the receiver:
"Hullo!.. Put me on to Garches, please, mademoiselle… Very well, I'll wait till you ring me up.."
He sat down to the instrument.
The telephone-bell rang.
"Hullo!" said Altenheim. "Is that Garches?.. Yes, that's right… Give me number 38, please, mademoiselle.."
A few seconds later, in a lower voice, as low and as distinct as he could make it, he began:
"Are you 38?.. It's I speaking; no useless words… Yesterday?.. Yes, you missed him in the garden… Another time, of course; but the thing's becoming urgent… He had the house searched last night… I'll tell you about it… Found nothing, of course… What?.. Hullo!.. No, old Steinweg refuses to speak… Threats, promises, nothing's any good… Hullo!.. Yes, of course, he sees that we can do nothing… We know just a part of the Kesselbach scheme and of the story of Pierre Leduc… He's the only one who has the answer to the riddle… Oh, he'll speak all right; that I'll answer for.. this very night, too.. If not.. What?.. Well, what can we do? Anything rather than let him escape! Do you want the prince to bag him from us? As for the prince, we shall have to cook his goose in three days from now… You have an idea?.. Yes, that's a good idea… Oh, oh, excellent! I'll see to it… When shall we meet? Will Tuesday do? Right you are. I'll come on Tuesday.. at two o'clock… Good-bye."
He replaced the receiver and went out.
A few hours later, while the servants were at lunch, Prince Sernine strolled quietly out of the Villa Dupont, feeling rather faint in the head and weak in the knees, and, while making for the nearest restaurant, he thus summed up the situation:
"So, on Tuesday next, Altenheim and the Palace Hotel murderer have an appointment at Garches, in a house with the telephone number 38. On Tuesday, therefore, I shall hand over the two criminals to the police and set M. Lenormand at liberty. In the evening, it will be old Steinweg's turn; and I shall learn, at last, whether Pierre Leduc is the son of a pork-butcher or not and whether he will make a suitable husband for Geneviève. So be it!"
At eleven o'clock on Tuesday morning Valenglay, the prime minister, sent for the prefect of police and M. Weber, the deputy-chief of the detective-service, and showed them an express letter which he had just received:
"Monsieur le Président du Conseil,
"Knowing the interest which you take in M. Lenormand, I am writing to inform you of certain facts which chance has revealed to me.
"M. Lenormand is locked up in the cellars of the Villa des Glycines at Garches, near the House of Retreat.
"The ruffians of the Palace Hotel have resolved to murder him at two o'clock to-day.
"If the police require my assistance, they will find me at half-past one in the garden of the House of Retreat, or at the garden-house occupied by Mrs. Kesselbach, whose friend I have the honor to be.
"I am, Monsieur le Président du Conseil,"Your obedient servant,"Prince Sernine."
"This is an exceedingly grave matter, my dear M. Weber," said Valenglay. "I may add that we can have every confidence in the accuracy of Prince Sernine's statements. I have often met him at dinner. He is a serious, intelligent man.."
"Will you allow me, Monsieur le Président," asked the deputy-chief detective, "to show you another letter which I also received this morning?"
"About the same case?"
"Yes."
"Let me see it."
He took the letter and read:
"Sir,
"This is to inform you that Prince Paul Sernine, who calls himself Mrs. Kesselbach's friend, is really Arsène Lupin.
"One proof will be sufficient: Paul Sernine is the anagram of Arsène Lupin. Not a letter more, not a letter less.
"L. M."
And M. Weber added, while Valenglay stood amazed:
"This time, our friend Lupin has found an adversary who is a match for him. While he denounces the other, the other betrays him to us. And the fox is caught in the trap."
"What do you propose to do?"
"Monsieur le Président, I shall take two hundred men with me!"
CHAPTER VIII
THE OLIVE-GREEN FROCK-COAT
A quarter past twelve, in a restaurant near the Madeleine. The prince is at lunch. Two young men sit down at the next table. He bows to them and begins to speak to them, as to friends whom he has met by chance.
"Are you going on the expedition, eh?"
"Yes."
"How many men altogether?"
"Six, I think. Each goes down by himself. We're to meet M. Weber at a quarter to two, near the House of Retreat."
"Very well, I shall be there."
"What?"
"Am I not leading the expedition? And isn't it my business to find M. Lenormand, seeing that I've announced it publicly?"
"Then you believe that M. Lenormand is not dead, governor?"
"I'm sure of it."
"Do you know anything?"
"Yes, since yesterday I know for certain that Altenheim and his gang took M. Lenormand and Gourel to the bridge at Bougival and heaved them overboard. Gourel sank, but M. Lenormand managed to save himself. I shall furnish all the necessary proofs when the time comes."
"But, then, if he's alive, why doesn't he show himself?"
"Because he's not free."
"Is what you said true, then? Is he in the cellars of the Villa des Glycines?"
"I have every reason to think so."
"But how do you know?.. What clue?."
"That's my secret. I can tell you one thing: the revelation will be – what shall I say – sensational. Have you finished?"
"Yes."
"My car is behind the Madeleine. Join me there."
At Garches, Sernine sent the motor away, and they walked to the path that led to Geneviève's school. There he stopped:
"Listen to me, lads. This is of the highest importance. You will ring at the House of Retreat. As inspectors, you have your right of entry, have you not? You will then go to the Pavillon Hortense, the empty one. There you will run down to the basement and you will find an old shutter, which you have only to lift to see the opening of a tunnel which I discovered lately and which forms a direct communication with the Villa des Glycines. It was by means of this that Gertrude and Baron Altenheim used to meet. And it was this way that M. Lenormand passed, only to end by falling into the hands of his enemies."
"You think so, governor?"
"Yes, I think so. And now the point is this: you must go and make sure that the tunnel is exactly in the condition in which I left it last night; that the two doors which bar it are open; and that there is still, in a hole near the second door, a parcel wrapped in a piece of black cloth which I put there myself."
"Are we to undo the parcel?"
"No, that's not necessary. It's a change of clothes. Go; and don't let yourselves be seen more than you can help. I will wait for you."
Ten minutes later, they were back:
"The two doors are open," said one of the Doudevilles.
"And the black cloth parcel?"
"In its place near the second door."
"Capital! It is twenty-five past one. Weber will be arriving with his champions. They are to watch the villa. They will surround it as soon as Altenheim is inside. I have arranged with Weber that I shall ring the bell; the door will be opened; and I shall have my foot inside the citadel. Once there, I have my plan. Come, I've an idea that we shall see some fun."
And Sernine, after dismissing them, walked down the path to the school, soliloquizing as he went:
"All bodes well. The battle will be fought on the ground chosen by myself. I am bound to win. I shall get rid of my two adversaries and I shall find myself alone engaged in the Kesselbach case.. alone, with two whacking trump-cards: Pierre Leduc and Steinweg… Besides the king.. that is to say, Bibi. Only, there's one thing: what is Altenheim up to? Obviously, he has a plan of attack of his own. On which side does he mean to attack me? And how does it come that he has not attacked me yet? It's rather startling. Can he have denounced me to the police?"
He went along the little playground of the school. The pupils were at their lessons. He knocked at the door.
"Ah, is that you?" said Mme. Ernemont, opening the door. "So you have left Geneviève in Paris?"
"For me to do that, Geneviève would have to be in Paris," he replied.
"So she has been, seeing that you sent for her."
"What's that?" he exclaimed catching hold of her arm.
"Why, you know better than I!"
"I know nothing… I know nothing… Speak!."
"Didn't you write to Geneviève to meet you at the Gare Saint-Lazare?"
"And did she go?"
"Why, of course… You were to lunch together at the Hôtel Ritz."
"The letter… Show me the letter."
She went to fetch it and gave it to him.
"But, wretched woman, couldn't you see that it was a forgery? The handwriting is a good imitation.. but it's a forgery… Any one can see that." He pressed his clenched hands to his temples with rage. "That's the move I was wondering about. Oh, the dirty scoundrel! He's attacking me through her.. But how does he know? No, he does not know… He's tried it on twice now.. and it's because of Geneviève, because he's taken a fancy to her… Oh, not that! Never! Listen, Victoire, are you sure that she doesn't love him?.. Oh, I'm losing my head!.. Wait.. wait!.. I must think.. this isn't the moment.."
He looked at his watch:
"Twenty-five minutes to two… I have time… Idiot that I am! Time to do what? How do I know where she is?"
He walked up and down like a madman; and his old nurse seemed astounded at seeing him so excited, with so little control of himself:
"After all," she said, "there is nothing to prove that she did not suspect the trap at the last moment.."
"Where could she be?"
"I don't know.. perhaps at Mrs. Kesselbach's."
"That's true.. that's true… You're right," he cried, filled with sudden hope.
And he set out at a run for the House of Retreat.
On the way, near the gate, he met the brothers Doudeville, who were entering the porter's lodge. The lodge looked out on the road; and this enabled them to watch the approaches to the Villa des Glycines. Without stopping, he went straight to the Pavillon de l'Impératrice, called Suzanne and told her to take him to Mrs. Kesselbach.
"Geneviève?" he asked.
"Geneviève?"
"Yes; hasn't she been here?"
"No, not for several days.."
"But she is to come, is she not?"
"Do you think so?"
"Why, I'm certain of it. Where do you think she is? Can you remember?."
"It's no use my trying. I assure you that Geneviève and I had made no arrangement to see each other." And, suddenly alarmed: "But you're not anxious, are you? Has anything happened to Geneviève?"
"No, nothing."
He had already left the room. An idea had occurred to him. Suppose Altenheim were not at the Villa des Glycines? Suppose the hour of the meeting had been changed!
"I must see him," he said to himself. "I must, at all costs."
And he ran along with a disordered air, indifferent to everything. But, in front of the lodge, he at once recovered his composure: he had caught sight of the deputy-chief of the detective-service talking to the brothers Doudeville in the garden.
Had he commanded his usual acute discernment, he would have perceived the little start which M. Weber gave as he approached; but he saw nothing:
"M. Weber, I believe?" he asked.
"Yes… To whom have I the honor.. ?"
"Prince Sernine."
"Ah, very good! Monsieur le Préfet de Police has told me of the great service which you are doing us, monsieur."
"That service will not be complete until I have handed the ruffians over to you."
"That won't take long. I believe that one of those ruffians has just gone in; a powerful-looking man, with a swarthy complexion.."
"Yes, that's Baron Altenheim. Are your men here, M. Weber?"
"Yes, concealed along the road, at two hundred yards from this."
"Well, M. Weber, it seems to me that you might collect them and bring them to this lodge. From here we will go to the villa. As Baron Altenheim knows me, I presume they will open the door to me and I will go in.. with you."
"It is an excellent plan," said M. Weber. "I shall come back at once."
He left the garden and walked down the road, in the opposite direction to the Villa des Glycines.
Sernine quickly took one of the brothers Doudeville by the arm:
"Run after him, Jacques.. keep him engaged.. long enough for me to get inside the Glycines… And then delay the attack as long as you can… Invent pretexts… I shall want ten minutes… Let the villa be surrounded.. but not entered. And you, Jean, go and post yourself in the Pavillon Hortense, at the entrance to the underground passage. If the baron tries to go out that way, break his head."
The Doudevilles moved away, as ordered. The prince slipped out and ran to a tall gate, barred with iron, which was the entrance to the Glycines.
Should he ring?.
There was no one in sight. With one bound, he leapt upon the gate, placing his foot on the lock; and, hanging on to the bars, getting a purchase with his knees and hoisting himself up with his wrists, he managed, at the risk of falling on the sharp points of the bars, to climb over the gate and jump down.
He found a paved courtyard, which he crossed briskly, and mounted the steps of a pillared peristyle, on which the windows looked out. These were all closed to the very top, with full shutters. As he stood thinking how he should make his way into the house, the door was half opened, with a noise of iron that reminded him of the door in the Villa Dupont, and Altenheim appeared:
"I say, prince, is that the way you trespass on private property? I shall be forced to call in the gendarmes, my dear fellow!"
Sernine caught him by the throat and, throwing him down on a bench:
"Geneviève?.. Where is Geneviève? If you don't tell me what you've done with her, you villain.."
"Please observe," stammered the baron, "that you are making it impossible for me to speak."
Sernine released his hold of him:
"To the point!.. And look sharp!.. Answer… Geneviève?"
"There is one thing," replied the baron, "which is much more urgent, especially where fellows like you and me are concerned, and that is to feel one's self at home.."
And he carefully closed the front door, which he barricaded with bolts. Then, leading Sernine to the adjoining drawing-room, a room without furniture or curtains, he said:
"Now I'm your man. What can I do for you, prince?"
"Geneviève?"
"She is in perfect health."
"Ah, so you confess.. ?"
"Of course! I may even tell you that your imprudence in this respect surprised me. Why didn't you take a few precautions? It was inevitable.."
"Enough! Where is she?"
"You are not very polite."
"Where is she?"
"Between four walls, free.."
"Free?"
"Yes, free to go from one wall to another."
"Where? Where?"
"Come, prince, do you think I should be fool enough to tell you the secret by which I hold you? You love the little girl."
"Hold your tongue!" shouted Sernine, beside himself. "I forbid you.."
"What next? Is there anything to be ashamed of? I love her myself and I have risked."
He did not complete his sentence, frightened by the terrific anger of Sernine, a restrained, dumb anger that distorted the prince's features.
They looked at each other for a long time, each of them seeking for the adversary's weak point. At last, Sernine stepped forward and, speaking very distinctly, like a man who is threatening rather than proposing a compact:
"Listen to me," he said. "You remember the offer of partnership which you made me? The Kesselbach business for the two of us.. we were to act together.. we were to share the profits… I refused… To-day, I accept.."
"Too late."
"Wait! I accept more than that: I give the whole business up… I shall take no further part in it… You shall have it all… If necessary, I'll help you."
"What is the condition?"
"Tell me where Geneviève is."
The baron shrugged his shoulders:
"You're driveling, Lupin. I'm sorry for you.. at your age.."
There was a fresh silence between the two enemies, a terrible silence. Then the baron sneered:
