“Are we to undo the parcel?”
“No, that’s not necessary. It’s a change of clothes. Go; and don’t let yourselves be seen more than you can help. I will wait for you.”
Ten minutes later, they were back:
“The two doors are open,” said one of the Doudevilles.
“And the black cloth parcel?”
“In its place near the second door.”
“Capital! It is twenty-five past one. Weber will be arriving with his champions. They are to watch the villa. They will surround it as soon as Altenheim is inside. I have arranged with Weber that I shall ring the bell; the door will be opened; and I shall have my foot inside the citadel. Once there, I have my plan. Come, I’ve an idea that we shall see some fun.”
And Sernine, after dismissing them, walked down the path to the school, soliloquizing as he went:
“All bodes well. The battle will be fought on the ground chosen by myself. I am bound to win. I shall get rid of my two adversaries and I shall find myself alone engaged in the Kesselbach case … alone, with two whacking trump-cards: Pierre Leduc and Steinweg. … Besides the king … that is to say, Bibi. Only, there’s one thing: what is Altenheim up to? Obviously, he has a plan of attack of his own. On which side does he mean to attack me? And how does it come that he has not attacked me yet? It’s rather startling. Can he have denounced me to the police?”
He went along the little playground of the school. The pupils were at their lessons. He knocked at the door.
“Ah, is that you?” said Mme. Ernemont, opening the door. “So you have left Geneviève in Paris?”
“For me to do that, Geneviève would have to be in Paris,” he replied.
“So she has been, seeing that you sent for her.”
“What’s that?” he exclaimed catching hold of her arm.
“Why, you know better than I!”
“I know nothing. … I know nothing. … Speak! …”
“Didn’t you write to Geneviève to meet you at the Gare Saint-Lazare?”
“And did she go?”
“Why, of course. … You were to lunch together at the Hôtel Ritz.”
“The letter. … Show me the letter.”
She went to fetch it and gave it to him.
“But, wretched woman, couldn’t you see that it was a forgery? The handwriting is a good imitation … but it’s a forgery. … Anyone can see that.” He pressed his clenched hands to his temples with rage. “That’s the move I was wondering about. Oh, the dirty scoundrel! He’s attacking me through her. … But how does he know? No, he does not know. … He’s tried it on twice now … and it’s because of Geneviève, because he’s taken a fancy to her. … Oh, not that! Never! Listen, Victoire, are you sure that she doesn’t love him? … Oh, I’m losing my head! … Wait … wait! … I must think … this isn’t the moment. …”
He looked at his watch:
“Twenty-five minutes to two. … I have time. … Idiot that I am! Time to do what? How do I know where she is?”
He walked up and down like a madman; and his old nurse seemed astounded at seeing him so excited, with so little control of himself:
“After all,” she said, “there is nothing to prove that she did not suspect the trap at the last moment. …”
“Where could she be?”
“I don’t know … perhaps at Mrs. Kesselbach’s.”
“That’s true … that’s true. … You’re right,” he cried, filled with sudden hope.
And he set out at a run for the House of Retreat.
On the way, near the gate, he met the brothers Doudeville, who were entering the porter’s lodge. The lodge looked out on the road; and this enabled them to watch the approaches to the Villa des Glycines. Without stopping, he went straight to the Pavillon de l’Impératrice, called Suzanne and told her to take him to Mrs. Kesselbach.
“Geneviève?” he asked.
“Geneviève?”
“Yes; hasn’t she been here?”
“No, not for several days. …”
“But she is to come, is she not?”
“Do you think so?”
“Why, I’m certain of it. Where do you think she is? Can you remember? …”
“It’s no use my trying. I assure you that Geneviève and I had made no arrangement to see each other.” And, suddenly alarmed: “But you’re not anxious, are you? Has anything happened to Geneviève?”
“No, nothing.”
He had already left the room. An idea had occurred to him. Suppose Altenheim were not at the Villa des Glycines? Suppose the hour of the meeting had been changed!
“I must see him,” he said to himself. “I must, at all costs.”
And he ran along with a disordered air, indifferent to everything. But, in front of the lodge, he at once recovered his composure: he had caught sight of the deputy-chief of the detective-service talking to the brothers Doudeville in the garden.
Had he commanded his usual acute discernment, he would have perceived the little start which M. Weber gave as he approached; but he saw nothing:
“M. Weber, I believe?” he asked.
“Yes. … To whom have I the honor … ?”
“Prince Sernine.”
“Ah, very good! Monsieur le Préfet de Police has told me of the great service which you are doing us, monsieur.”
“That service will not be complete until I have handed the ruffians over to you.”
“That won’t take long. I believe that one of those ruffians has just gone in; a powerful-looking man, with a swarthy complexion. …”
“Yes, that’s Baron Altenheim. Are your men here, M. Weber?”
“Yes, concealed along the road, at two hundred yards from this.”
“Well, M. Weber, it seems to me that you might collect them and bring them to this lodge. From here we will go to the villa. As Baron Altenheim knows me, I presume they will open the door to me and I will go in … with you.”
“It is an excellent plan,” said M. Weber. “I shall come back at once.”
He left the garden and walked down the road, in the opposite direction to the Villa des Glycines.
Sernine quickly took one of the brothers Doudeville by the arm:
“Run after him, Jacques … keep him engaged … long enough for me to
