ires to escape?" replied Beautrelet.
"There is nothing to prove that he is in the Needle at present. Last
night, eleven of his men left it. He may be one of the eleven."

Ganimard reflected:

"You are right. The great thing is the Hollow Needle. For the rest, let
us hope that chance will favor us. And now, let us talk."

He resumed his serious voice, his self-important air and said:

"My dear Beautrelet, I have orders to recommend you to observe the most
absolute discretion in regard to this matter."

"Orders from whom?" asked Beautrelet, jestingly. "The prefect of
police?"

"Higher than that."

"The prime minister?"

"Higher."

"Whew!"

Ganimard lowered his voice:

"Beautrelet, I was at the Elysee last night. They look upon this matter
as a state secret of the utmost gravity. There are serious reasons for
concealing the existence of this citadel--reasons of military strategy,
in particular. It might become a revictualling centre, a magazine for
new explosives, for lately-invented projectiles, for anything of that
sort: the secret arsenal of France, in fact."

"But how can they hope to keep a secret like this? In the old days, one
man alone held it: the king. To-day, already, there are a good few of
us who know it, without counting Lupin's gang."

"Still, if we gained only ten years', only five years' silence! Those
five years may be--the saving of us."

"But, in order to capture this citadel, this future arsenal, it will
have to be attacked, Lupin must be dislodged. And all this cannot be
done without noise."

"Of course, people will guess something, but they won't know. Besides,
we can but try."

"All right. What's your plan?"

"Here it is, in two words. To begin with, you are not Isidore
Beautrelet and there's no question of Arsene Lupin either. You are and
you remain a small boy of Etretat, who, while strolling about the
place, caught some fellows coming out of an underground passage. This
makes you suspect the existence of a flight of steps which cuts through
the cliff from top to bottom."

"Yes, there are several of those flights of steps along the coast. For
instance, to the right of Etretat, opposite Benouville, they showed me
the Devil's Staircase, which every bather knows. And I say nothing of
the three or four tunnels used by the fishermen."

"So you will guide me and one-half of my men. I shall enter alone, or
accompanied, that remains to be seen. This much is certain, that the
att