Daubrecq, it's madness to resist... Once you're beaten,
there's nothing for it but to submit to your conqueror, instead of
allowing yourself to be tortured like an idiot... Come, be sensible."

He turned to Sebastiani:

"Tighten the rope... let him feel it a little that will wake him up...
He's shamming death..." Sebastiani took hold of the stick again and
turned until the cord touched the swollen flesh. Daubrecq gave a start.

"That'll do, Sebastiani," said the marquis. "Our friend seems favourably
disposed and understands the need for coming to terms. That's so,
Daubrecq, is it not? You prefer to have done with it? And you're quite
right!"

The two men were leaning over the sufferer, Sebastiani with his hand
on the stick, d'Albufex holding the lamp so as to throw the light on
Daubrecq's face: "His lips are moving... he's going to speak. Loosen
the rope a little, Sebastiani: I don't want our friend to be hurt... No,
tighten it: I believe our friend is hesitating... One turn more... stop!
... That's done it! Oh, my dear Daubrecq, if you can't speak plainer
than that, it's no use! What? What did you say?"

Arsene Lupin muttered an oath. Daubrecq was speaking and he, Lupin,
could not hear a word of what he said! In vain, he pricked up his ears,
suppressed the beating of his heart and the throbbing of his temples:
not a sound reached him.

"Confound it!" he thought. "I never expected this. What am I to do?"

He was within an ace of covering Daubrecq with his revolver and
putting a bullet into him which would cut short any explanation. But he
reflected that he himself would then be none the wiser and that it was
better to trust to events in the hope of making the most of them.

Meanwhile the confession continued beneath him, indistinctly,
interrupted by silences and mingled with moans. D'Albufex clung to his
prey:

"Go on!... Finish, can't you?..."

And he punctuated the sentences with exclamations of approval:

"Good!... Capital!... Oh, how funny!... And no one suspected?... Not
even Prasville?... What an ass!... Loosen a bit, Sebastiani: don't you
see that our friend is out of breath?... Keep calm, Daubrecq... don't
tire yourself... And so, my dear fellow, you were saying..."

That was the last. There was a long whispering to which d'Albufex
listened without further interruption and of which Arsene Lupin could
not catch the least syllable. Then the marquis drew himself up and
exclaimed, joyfully:

"That's