Prasville reflected for a moment. He would have rejoiced in the sudden destruction of his adversary and he racked his brain for the means to effect it. But he was helpless.
He went to the door and called:
“M. Lartigue.” And, sinking his voice, but not very low, for he wished M. Nicole to hear, “M. Lartigue, dismiss your men. It’s a mistake. And let no one come into my office while I am gone. This gentleman will wait for me here.”
He came back, took the hat, stick and overcoat which M. Nicole handed him and went out.
“Well done, sir,” said Lupin, between his teeth, when the door was closed. “You have behaved like a sportsman and a gentleman … So did I, for that matter … perhaps with too obvious a touch of contempt … and a little too bluntly. But, tush, this sort of business has to be carried through with a high hand! The enemy’s got to be staggered! Besides, when one’s own conscience is clear, one can’t take up too bullying a tone with that sort of individual. Lift your head, Lupin. You have been the champion of outraged morality. Be proud of your work. And now take a chair, stretch out your legs and have a rest. You’ve deserved it.”
When Prasville returned, he found Lupin sound asleep and had to tap him on the shoulder to wake him.
“Is it done?” asked Lupin.
“It’s done. The pardon will be signed presently. Here is the written promise.”
“The forty thousand francs?”
“Here’s your cheque.”
“Good. It but remains for me to thank you, monsieur.”
“So the correspondence …”
“The Stanislas Vorenglade correspondence will be handed to you on the conditions stated. However, I am glad to be able to give you, here and now, as a sign of my gratitude, the four letters which I meant to send to the papers this evening.”
“Oh, so you had them on you?” said Prasville.
“I felt so certain, monsieur le secrétaire-général, that we should end by coming to an understanding.”
He took from his hat a fat envelope, sealed with five red seals, which was pinned inside the lining, and handed it to Prasville, who thrust it into his pocket. Then he said:
“Monsieur le secrétaire-général, I don’t know when I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again. If you have the least communication to make to me, one line in the agony column of the Journal will be sufficient. Just head it, ‘M. Nicole.’ Good day to you.”
And he withdrew.
Prasville, when he was alone, felt as if he were waking from a nightmare during which he had performed incoherent actions over which his conscious mind had no control. He was almost thinking of ringing and causing a stir in the passages; but, just then, there was a tap at the door and one of the office-messengers came hurrying in.
“What’s the matter?” asked Prasville.
“Monsieur le secrétaire-général, it’s Monsieur le Député Daubrecq asking to see you … on a matter of the highest importance.”
“Daubrecq!” exclaimed Prasville, in bewilderment. “Daubrecq here! Show him in.”
Daubrecq had not waited for the order. He ran up to Prasville, out of breath, with his clothes in disorder, a bandage over his left eye, no tie, no collar, looking like an escaped lunatic; and the door was not closed before he caught hold of Prasville with his two enormous hands:
“Have you the list?”
“Yes.”
“Have you bought it?”
“Yes.”
“At the price of Gilbert’s pardon?”
“Yes.”
“Is it signed?”
“Yes.”
Daubrecq made a furious gesture:
“You fool! You fool! You’ve been trapped! For hatred of me, I expect? And now you’re going to take your revenge?”
“With a certain satisfaction, Daubrecq. Remember my little friend, the opera-dancer, at Nice … It’s your turn now to dance.”
“So it means prison?”
“I should think so,” said Prasville. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. You’re done for, anyhow. Deprived of the list, without defence of any kind, you’re bound to fall to pieces of your own weight. And I shall be present at the breakup. That’s my revenge.”
“And you believe that!” yelled Daubrecq, furiously. “You believe that they will wring my neck like a chicken’s and that I shall not know how to defend myself and that I have no claws left and no teeth to bite with! Well, my boy, if I do come to grief, there’s always one who will fall with me and that is Master Prasville, the partner of Stanislas Vorenglade, who is going to hand me every proof in existence against him, so that I may get him sent to gaol without delay. Aha, I’ve got you fixed, old chap! With those letters, you’ll go as I please, hang it all, and there will be fine days yet for Daubrecq the deputy! What! You’re laughing, are you? Perhaps those letters don’t exist?”
Prasville shrugged his shoulders:
“Yes, they exist. But Vorenglade no longer has them in his possession.”
“Since when?”
“Since this morning. Vorenglade sold them, two hours ago, for the sum of forty thousand francs; and I have bought them back at the same price.”
Daubrecq burst into a great roar of laughter:
“Lord, how funny! Forty thousand francs! You’ve paid forty thousand francs! To M. Nicole, I suppose, who sold you the list of the Twenty-Seven? Well, would you like me to tell you the real name of M. Nicole? It’s Arsène Lupin!”
“I know that.”
“Very likely. But what you don’t know, you silly ass, is that I have come straight from Stanislas Vorenglade’s and that Stanislas Vorenglade left Paris four days ago! Oh, what a joke! They’ve sold you waste paper! And your forty thousand francs! What an ass! What an ass!”
He walked out of the room, screaming with laughter and leaving Prasville absolutely dumbfounded.
So Arsène Lupin possessed no proof at all; and, when he was threatening and commanding and treating Prasville with that airy insolence, it
