!... But you see, Clemence, how
right my calculation was. You told me that nine spies had been to the
house. I counted a troop of eight, as I came along, eight of them in the
distance, down the avenue. Take eight from nine and one remains: the one
who evidently remained behind to see what he could see. Ecce homo!"

"Well? And then?" said Lupin, who felt a mad craving to fly at the
fellow and reduce him to silence.

"And then? Nothing at all, my good man... What more do you want? The
farce is over. I will only ask you to take this little note to Master
Prasville, your employer. Clemence, please show Mr. Polonius out. And,
if ever he calls again, fling open the doors wide to him. Pray look upon
this as your home, Mr. Polonius. Your servant, sir!..."

Lupin hesitated. He would have liked to talk big and to come out with
a farewell phrase, a parting speech, like an actor making a showy exit
from the stage, and at least to disappear with the honours of war. But
his defeat was so pitiable that he could think of nothing better than to
bang his hat on his head and stamp his feet as he followed the portress
down the hall. It was a poor revenge.

"You rascally beggar!" he shouted, once he was outside the door, shaking
his fist at Daubrecq's windows. "Wretch, scum of the earth, deputy, you
shall pay for this!... Oh, he allows himself...! Oh, he has the cheek
to...! Well, I swear to you, my fine fellow, that, one of these days..."

He was foaming with rage, all the more as, in his innermost heart, he
recognized the strength of his new enemy and could not deny the masterly
fashion in which he had managed this business. Daubrecq's coolness, the
assurance with which he hoaxed the police-officials, the contempt with
which he lent himself to their visits at his house and, above all, his
wonderful self-possession, his easy bearing and the impertinence of his
conduct in the presence of the ninth person who was spying on him: all
this denoted a man of character, a strong man, with a well-balanced
mind, lucid, bold, sure of himself and of the cards in his hand.

But what were those cards? What game was he playing? Who held the
stakes? And how did the players stand on either side? Lupin could not
tell. Knowing nothing, he flung himself headlong into the thick of the
fray, between adversaries desperately involved, though he himself was in
total ignorance of their positions, their weapons, their resources and
their secret plans. For, when