Arsene Lupin. Морис Леблан

it!"

      Beautrelet nodded his head:

      "Yes. but what do you want?"

      "Peace! Each of us minding his own business, keeping to his own side!"

      "That is to say, you free to continue your burglaries undisturbed, I free to return to my studies."

      "Your studies—anything you please—I don't care. But you must leave me in peace—I want peace."

      "How can I trouble it now?"

      Lupin seized his hand violently:

      "You know quite well! Don't pretend not to know. You are at this moment in possession of a secret to which I attach the highest importance. This secret you were free to guess, but you have no right to give it to the public."

      "Are you sure that I know it?"

      "You know it, I am certain: day by day, hour by hour, I have followed your train of thought and the progress of your investigations. At the very moment when Bredoux struck you, you were about to tell all. Subsequently, you delayed your revelations, out of solicitude for your father. But they are now promised to this paper here. The article is written. It will be set up in an hour. It will appear to-morrow."

      "Quite right."

      Lupin rose, and slashing the air with his hand,

      "It shall not appear!" he cried.

      "It shall appear!" said Beautrelet, starting up in his turn.

      At last, the two men were standing up to each other. I received the impression of a shock, as if they had seized each other round the body. Beautrelet seemed to burn with a sudden energy. It was as though a spark had kindled within him a group of new emotions: pluck, self-respect, the passion of fighting, the intoxication of danger. As for Lupin, I read in the radiance of his glance the joy of the duellist who at length encounters the sword of his hated rival.

      "Is the article in the printer's hands?"

      "Not yet."

      "Have you it there—on you?"

      "No fear! I shouldn't have it by now, in that case!"

      "Then—"

      "One of the assistant editors has it, in a sealed envelope. If I am not at the office by midnight, he will have set it up."

      "Oh, the scoundrel!" muttered Lupin. "He has provided for everything!"

      His anger was increasing, visibly and frightfully. Beautrelet chuckled, jeering in his turn, carried away by his success.

      "Stop that, you brat!" roared Lupin. "You're forgetting who I am— and that, if I wished—upon my word, he's daring to laugh!"

      A great silence fell between them. Then Lupin stepped forward and, in muttered tones, with his eyes on Beautrelet's:

      "You shall go straight to the Grand Journal."

      "No."

      "Tear up your article."

      "No."

      "See the editor."

      "No."

      "Tell him you made a mistake."

      "No."

      "And write him another article, in which you will give the official version of the Ambrumesy mystery, the one which every one has accepted."

      "No."

      Lupin took up a steel ruler that lay on my desk and broke it in two without an effort. His pallor was terrible to see. He wiped away the beads of perspiration that stood on his forehead. He, who had never known his wishes resisted, was being maddened by the obstinacy of this child. He pressed his two hands on Beautrelet's shoulder and, emphasizing every syllable, continued:

      "You shall do as I tell you, Beautrelet. You shall say that your latest discoveries have convinced you of my death, that there is not the least doubt about it. You shall say so because I wish it, because it has to be believed that I am dead. You shall say so, above all, because, if you do not say so—"

      "Because, if I do not say so—?"

      "Your father will be kidnapped to-night, as Ganimard and Holmlock Shears were."

      Beautrelet gave a smile.

      "Don't laugh—answer!"

      "My answer is that I am very sorry to disappoint you, but I have promised to speak and I shall speak."

      "Speak in the sense which I have told you."

      "I shall speak the truth," cried Beautrelet, eagerly. "It is something which you can't understand, the pleasure, the need, rather, of saying the thing that is and saying it aloud. The truth is here, in this brain which has guessed it and discovered it; and it will come out, all naked and quivering. The article, therefore, will be printed as I wrote it. The world shall know that Lupin is alive and shall know the reason why he wished to be considered dead. The world shall know all." And he added, calmly, "And my father shall not be kidnapped."

      Once again, they were both silent, with their eyes still fixed upon each other. They watched each other. Their swords were engaged up to the hilt. And it was like the heavy silence that goes before the mortal blow. Which of the two was to strike it?

      Lupin said, between his teeth:

      "Failing my instructions to the contrary, two of my friends have orders to enter your father's room to-night, at three o'clock in the morning, to seize him and carry him off to join Ganimard and Holmlock Shears."

      A burst of shrill laughter interrupted him:

      "Why, you highwayman, don't you understand," cried Beautrelet, "that I have taken my precautions? So you think that I am innocent enough, ass enough, to have sent my father home to his lonely little house in the open country!" Oh, the gay, bantering laughter that lit up the boy's face! It was a new sort of laugh on his lips, a laugh that showed the influence of Lupin himself. And the familiar form of address which he adopted placed him at once on his adversary's level. He continued:

      "You see, Lupin, your great fault is to believe your schemes infallible. You proclaim yourself beaten, do you? What humbug! You are convinced that you will always win the day in the end—and you forget that others can have their little schemes, too. Mine is a very simple one, my friend."

      It was delightful to hear him talk. He walked up and down, with his hands in his pockets and with the easy swagger of a boy teasing a caged beast. Really, at this moment, he was revenging, with the most terrible revenges, all the victims of the great adventurer. And he concluded:

      "Lupin, my father is not in Savoy. He is at the other end of France, in the centre of a big town, guarded by twenty of our friends, who have orders not to lose sight of him until our battle is over. Would you like details? He is at Cherbourg, in the house of one of the keepers of the arsenal. And remember that the arsenal is closed at night and that no one is allowed to enter it by day, unless he carries an authorization and is accompanied by a guide."

      He stopped in front of Lupin and defied him, like a child making faces at his playmate:

      "What do you say to that, master?"

      For some minutes, Lupin had stood motionless. Not a muscle of his face had moved. What were his thoughts? Upon what action was he resolving? To any one knowing the fierce violence of his pride the only possible solution was the total, immediate, final collapse of his adversary. His fingers twitched. For a second, I had a feeling that he was about to throw himself upon the boy and wring his neck.

      "What do you say to that, master?" Beautrelet repeated.

      Lupin took up the telegram that lay on the table, held it out and said, very calmly:

      "Here, baby, read that."

      Beautrelet became serious, suddenly, impressed by the gentleness of the movement. He unfolded the paper and, at once, raising his eyes, murmured:

      "What does it mean? I don't understand."