d to bring down the prey which he
held at his mercy. He was prevented by some inexplicable sentiment.

But Ganimard's appeal for assistance shook him. His hand closed on the
butt of his revolver:

"If I take part in it," he thought, "Lupin is lost. And I have the
right--it's my duty."

Their eyes met. Lupin's were calm, watchful, almost inquisitive, as
though, in the awful danger that threatened him, he were interested
only in the moral problem that held the young man in its clutches.
Would Isidore decide to give the finishing stroke to the defeated enemy?

The door cracked from top to bottom.

"Help, Beautrelet, we've got him!" Ganimard bellowed.

Isidore raised his revolver.

What happened was so quick that he knew of it, so to speak, only by the
result. He saw Lupin bob down and run along the wall, skimming the door
right under the weapon which Ganimard was vainly brandishing; and he
felt himself suddenly flung to the ground, picked up the next moment
and lifted by an invincible force.

Lupin held him in the air, like a living shield, behind which he hid
himself.

"Ten to one that I escape, Ganimard! Lupin, you see, has never quite
exhausted his resources--"

He had taken a couple of brisk steps backward to the triptych. Holding
Beautrelet with one hand flat against his chest, with the other he
cleared the passage and closed the little door behind them.

A steep staircase appeared before their eyes.

"Come along," said Lupin, pushing Beautrelet before him. "The land
forces are beaten--let us turn our attention to the French
fleet.--After Waterloo, Trafalgar.--You're having some fun for your
money, eh, my lad?--Oh, how good: listen to them knocking at the
triptych now!--It's too late, my children.--But hurry along,
Beautrelet!"

The staircase, dug out in the wall of the Needle, dug in its very
crust, turned round and round the pyramid, encircling it like the
spiral of a tobogganslide. Each hurrying the other, they clattered down
the treads, taking two or three at a bound. Here and there, a ray of
light trickled through a fissure; and Beautrelet carried away the
vision of the fishing-smacks hovering a few dozen fathoms off, and of
the black torpedo-boat.

They went down and down, Isidore in silence, Lupin still bubbling over
with merriment:

"I should like to know what Ganimard is doing? Is he tumbling down the
other staircases to bar the entrance to the tunnel against me? No, he's
not such a fool