s, 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."

"At any rate, you understand the first word," said Lupin, "the first
word of the telegram--that is to say, the name of the place from which
it was sent--look--'Cherbourg.'"

"Yes--yes," stammered Beautrelet. "Yes--I understand--'Cherbourg'-and
then?"

"And then?--I should think the rest is quite plain: 'Removal of luggage
finished. Friends left with it and will wa