to, and, to his horror, the lift shot upwards about
eight feet, and stuck between the floors.

As the lift stuck, a second compartment, exactly like the one Guerchard
and Dieusy were in, came up to the level of the floor of the
smoking-room; the doors opened, and there was Lupin. But again how
changed! The clothes of the Duke of Charmerace littered the floor; the
kit-bag was open; and he was wearing the very clothes of
Chief-Inspector Guerchard, his seedy top-hat, his cloak. He wore also
Guerchard's sparse, lank, black hair, his little, bristling, black
moustache. His figure, hidden by the cloak, seemed to have shrunk to
the size of Guerchard's.

He sat before a mirror in the wall of the lift, a make-up box on the
seat beside him. He darkened his eyebrows, and put a line or two about
his eyes. That done he looked at himself earnestly for two or three
minutes; and, as he looked, a truly marvellous transformation took
place: the features of Arsene Lupin, of the Duke of Charmerace,
decomposed, actually decomposed, into the features of Jean Guerchard.
He looked at himself and laughed, the gentle, husky laugh of Guerchard.

He rose, transferred the pocket-book to the coat he was wearing, picked
up the bomb, came out into the smoking-room, and listened. A muffled
roaring thumping came from the well of the lift. It almost sounded as
if, in their exasperation, Guerchard and Dieusy were engaged in a
struggle to the death. Smiling pleasantly, he stole to the window and
looked out. His eyes brightened at the sight of the motor-car,
Guerchard's car, waiting just before the front door and in charge of a
policeman. He stole to the head of the stairs, and looked down into the
hall. Victoire was sitting huddled together on a chair; Sonia stood
beside her, talking to her in a low voice; and, keeping guard on
Victoire, stood a brown-faced, active, nervous policeman, all
alertness, briskness, keenness.

"Hi! officer! come up here! Be smart," cried Lupin over the bannisters,
in the husky, gentle voice of Chief-Inspector Guerchard.

The policeman looked up, recognized the great detective, and came
bounding zealously up the stairs.

Lupin led the way through the anteroom into the sitting-room. Then he
said sharply: "You have your revolver?"

"Yes," said the young policeman. And he drew it with a flourish.

"Put it away! Put it away at once!" said Lupin very smartly. "You're
not to use it. You're not to use it on any account! You un