e Villemon:

"Will you forgive me, madame? The accidents of life--of mine
especially--often drive one to acts of cruelty for which I am the first
to blush. But have no fear for your son: it's a mere prick, a little
puncture in the arm which I gave him while we were questioning him. In
an hour, at the most, you won't know that it happened. Once more, all
my apologies. But I had to make sure of your silence." He bowed again,
thanked M. de Velines for his kind hospitality, took his cane, lit a
cigarette, offered one to the baron, gave a circular sweep with his hat
and, in a patronizing tone, said to Beautrelet:

"Good-bye, baby."

And he walked away quietly, puffing the smoke of his cigarette into the
servants' faces.

Beautrelet waited for a few minutes. Mme. de Villemon, now calmer, was
watching by her son. He went up to her, with the intention of making
one last appeal to her. Their eyes met. He said nothing. He had
understood that she would never speak now, whatever happened. There,
once more, in that mother's brain, the secret of the Hollow Needle lay
buried as deeply as in the night of the past.

Then he gave up and went away.

It was half-past ten. There was a train at eleven-fifty. He slowly
followed the avenue in the park and turned into the road that led to
the station.

"Well, what do you say to that?"

It was Massiban, or rather Lupin, who appeared out of the wood
adjoining the road.

"Was it pretty well contrived, or was it not? Is your old friend great
on the tight-rope, or is he not? I'm sure that you haven't got over it,
eh, and that you're asking yourself whether the so-called Massiban,
member of the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres, ever existed.
But, of course, he exists. I'll even show him to you, if you're good.
But, first, let me give you back your revolver. You're looking to see
if it's loaded? Certainly, my lad. There are five charges left, one of
which would be enough to send me ad patres.--Well, so you're putting it
in your pocket? Quite right. I prefer that to what you did up there.--A
nasty little impulse, that, of yours!--Still, you're young, you
suddenly see--in a flash!--that you've once more been done by that
confounded Lupin and that he is standing there in front of you, at
three steps from you--and bang! You fire!--I'm not angry with you,
bless your little heart! To prove it, I offer you a seat in my 100 h.p.
car. Will that suit you?"

He put his fingers to his mout