nearer the window.

"Keep away from the window!" snapped Charolais. "Do you want to be
recognized, you great idiot?" Then he added, more quietly, "They're
still there all right, curse them, in front of the cafe.... Hullo!"

"What is it, now?" cried Victoire, starting.

"A copper and a detective running," said Charolais. "They are running
for all they're worth."

"Are they coming this way?" said Victoire; and she ran to the door and
caught hold of the handle.

"No," said Charolais.

"Thank goodness!" said Victoire.

"They're running to the two men watching the house ... they're telling
them something. Oh, hang it, they're all running down the street."

"This way? ... Are they coming this way?" cried Victoire faintly; and
she pressed her hand to her side.

"They are!" cried Charolais. "They are!" And he dropped the curtain
with an oath.

"And he isn't here! Suppose they come.... Suppose he comes to the front
door! They'll catch him!" cried Victoire.

There came a startling peal at the front-door bell. They stood frozen
to stone, their eyes fixed on one another, staring.

The bell had hardly stopped ringing, when there was a slow, whirring
noise. The doors of the lift flew open, and the Duke stepped out of it.
But what a changed figure from the admirably dressed dandy who had
walked through the startled detectives and out of the house of M.
Gournay-Martin at midnight! He was pale, exhausted, almost fainting.
His eyes were dim in a livid face; his lips were grey. He was panting
heavily. He was splashed with mud from head to foot: one sleeve of his
coat was torn along half its length. The sole of his left-hand pump was
half off; and his cut foot showed white and red through the torn sock.

"The master! The master!" cried Charolais in a tone of extravagant
relief; and he danced round the room snapping his fingers.

"You're wounded?" cried Victoire.

"No," said Arsene Lupin.

The front-door bell rang out again, startling, threatening, terrifying.

The note of danger seemed to brace Lupin, to spur him to a last effort.

He pulled himself together, and said in a hoarse but steady voice:
"Your waistcoat, Charolais.... Go and open the door ... not too quickly
... fumble the bolts.... Bernard, shut the book-case. Victoire, get out
of sight, do you want to ruin us all? Be smart now, all of you. Be
smart!"

He staggered past them into his bedroom, and slammed the door. Victoire
and Charolais hurried out of the