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He gave a start:

“Geneviève!”

She fixed a pair of astonished eyes upon him and at once recognized him, although bewildered by the extreme youthfulness of his appearance; and this gave her such a shock that she staggered and had to lean against the door for support. He had taken off his hat and was looking at her without daring to put out his hand. Would she put out hers? He was no longer Prince Sernine: he was Arsène Lupin. And she knew that he was Arsène Lupin and that he had just come out of prison.

It was raining outside. She gave her umbrella to the footman and said:

“Please open it and put it somewhere to dry.”

Then she walked straight in.

“My poor old chap!” said Lupin to himself, as he walked away. “What a series of blows for a sensitive and highly-strung creature like yourself! You must keep a watch on your heart or … Ah, what next? Here are my eyes beginning to water now! That’s a bad sign. M. Lupin: you’re growing old!”

He gave a tap on the shoulder to a young man who was crossing the Chaussee de la Muette and going toward the Rue des Vignes. The young man stopped, stared at him and said:

“I beg your pardon, monsieur, but I don’t think I have the honor …”

“Think again, my dear M. Leduc. Or has your memory quite gone? Don’t you remember Versailles? And the little room at the Hôtel des Trois-Empereurs?”

The young man bounded backwards:

“You!”

“Why, yes, I! Prince Sernine, or rather Lupin, since you know my real name! Did you think that Lupin had departed this life? … Oh, yes, I see, prison … You were hoping … Get out, you baby!” He patted him gently on the shoulder. “There, there, young fellow, don’t be frightened: you have still a few nice quiet days left to write your poems in. The time has not yet come. Write your verses … poet!”

Then he gripped Leduc’s arm violently and, looking him full in the face, said:

“But the time is drawing near … poet! Don’t forget that you belong to me, body and soul. And prepare to play your part. It will be a hard and magnificent part. And, as I live, I believe you’re the man to play it!”

He burst out laughing, turned on one foot and left young Leduc astounded.

A little further, at the corner of the Rue de la Pompe, stood the wine-shop of which Mrs. Kesselbach had spoken to him. He went in and had a long talk with the proprietor.

Then he took a taxi and drove to the Grand Hotel, where he was staying under the name of André Beauny, and found the brothers Doudeville waiting for him.

Lupin, though used to that sort of pleasure, nevertheless enjoyed the marks of admiration and devotion with which his friends overwhelmed him:

“But, governor, tell us … what happened? We’re accustomed to all sorts of wonders with you; but still, there are limits … So you are free? And here you are, in the heart of Paris, scarcely disguised … !”

“Have a cigar,” said Lupin.

“Thank you, no.”

“You’re wrong, Doudeville. These are worth smoking. I have them from a great connoisseur, who is good enough to call himself my friend.”

“Oh, may one ask …?”

“The Kaiser! Come, don’t look so flabbergasted, the two of you! And tell me things: I haven’t seen the papers. What effect did my escape have on the public?”

“Tremendous, governor!”

“What was the police version?”

“Your flight took place at Garches, during an attempt to reënact the murder of Altenheim. Unfortunately, the journalists have proved that it was impossible.”

“After that?”

“After that, a general fluster. People wondering, laughing and enjoying themselves like mad.”

“Weber?”

“Weber is badly let in.”

“Apart from that, no news at the detective-office? Nothing discovered about the murderer? No clue to help us to establish Altenheim’s identity?”

“No.”

“What fools they are! And to think that we pay millions a year to keep those people. If this sort of thing goes on, I shall refuse to pay my rates. Take a seat and a pen. I will dictate a letter which you must hand in to the 
Grand Journal
 this evening. The world has been waiting for news of me long enough. It must be gasping with impatience. Write.”

He dictated:

“To the Editor of the 
Grand Journal:

“S
IR
,

“I must apologize to your readers for disappointing their legitimate impatience.

“I have escaped from prison and I cannot possibly reveal how I escaped. In the same way, since my escape, I have discovered the famous secret and I cannot possibly disclose what the secret is nor how I discovered it.

“All this will, some day or other, form the subjec of a rather original story which my biographer-in-ordinary will publish from my notes. It will form a page of the history of France which our grandchildren will read with interest.

“For the moment, I have more important matters to attend to. Disgusted at seeing into what hands the functions which I once exercised have fallen, tired of finding the Kesselbach-Altenheim case still dragging along, I am discharging M. Weber and resuming the post of honor which I occupied with such distinction and to the general satisfaction under the name of M. Lenormand.

“I am, Sir,
“Your obedient servant.
“A
RSÈNE
L
UPIN
,
“
Chief of the Detective-service
.”

At eight o’clock in the evening, Arsène Lupin and Jean Doudeville walked into Caillard’s, the fashionable restaurant, Lupin in evening-clothes, but dressed like an artist, with rather wide trousers and a rather loose tie, and Doudeville in a frock-coat, with the serious air and appearance of a magistrate.

They sat down in that part of the restaurant which is set back and divided from the big room by two columns.

A head-waiter, perfectly dressed and supercilious in manner, came to take their orders, note-book in hand. Lupin selected the dinner with the nice thought of an accomplished epicure:

“Certainly,” he said, “the prison ordinary was quite acceptable; but, all the same, it is nice to have a carefully-ordered meal.”

He ate with a good appetite and silently, contenting himself with uttering, from time to time, a short sentence that marked his train of thought:

“Of course, I shall manage … but it will be a hard job … Such an adversary! … What staggers me is that, after six months’ fighting, I don’t even know what he wants! … His chief accomplice is dead, we are near the end of the battle and yet, even now, I can’t understand his game … What is the wretch after? … My own plan is quite clear: to lay hands on the grand-duchy, to shove a grand-duke of my own making on the throne, to give him Geneviève for a wife … and to reign. That is what I call lucid, honest and fair. But he, the low fellow, the ghost in the dark: what is he aiming at?”

He called:

“Waiter!”

The head-waiter came up:

“Yes, sir?”

“Cigars.”

The head-waiter stalked away, returned and opened a number of boxes.

“Which do you recommend?”

“These Upmanns are very good, sir.”

Lupin gave Doudeville an Upmann, took one for himself and cut it. The head-waiter struck a match and held if for him. With a sudden movement, Lupin caught him by the wrist:

“Not a word … I know you … Your real name is Dominique Lecas!”

The man, who was big and strong, tried to struggle away. He stifled a cry of pain: Lupin had twisted his wrist.

“Your name is Dominique … you live in the Rue de la Pompe, on the fourth floor, where you retired with a small fortune acquired in the service—listen to me, you fool, will you, or I’ll break every bone in your body!—acquired in the service of Baron Altenheim, at whose house you were butler.”

The other stood motionless, his face pallid with fear. Around them, the small room was empty. In the restaurant beside it, three gentlemen sat smoking and two couples were chatting over their liquors.

“You see, we are quiet … we can talk.”

“Who are you? Who are you?”

“Don’t you recollect me? Why, think of that famous luncheon in the Villa Dupont! … You yourself, you old flunkey, handed me the plate of cakes … and such cakes!”

“Prince … Prince …” stammered the other.

“Yes, yes, Prince Arsène, Prince Lupin in person … Aha, you breathe again! … You’re saying to yourself that you have nothing to fear from Lupin, isn’t that it? Well, you’re wrong, old chap, you have everything to fear.” He took a card from his pocket and showed it to him. “There, look, I belong to the police now. Can’t be helped: that’s what we all come to in the end, all of us robber-kings and emperors of crime.”

“Well?” said the head-waiter, still greatly alarmed.

“Well, go to that customer over there, who’s calling you, get him what he wants and come back to me. And no nonsense, mind you: don’t go trying to get away. I have ten men outside, with orders to keep their eyes on you. Be off.”

The head-waiter obeyed. Five minutes after, he returned and, standing in front of the table, with his back to the restaurant, as though discussing the quality of the cigars with his customers, he said:

“Well? What is it?”

Lupin laid a number of hundred-franc notes in a row on the table:

“One note for each definite answer to my questions.”

“Done!”

“Now then. How many of you were there with Baron Altenheim?”

“Seven, without counting myself.”

“No more?”

“No. Once only, we picked up some workmen in Italy to make the underground passage from the Villa des Glycines, at Garches.”

“Were there two underground passages?”

“Yes, one led to the Pavillon Hortense and the other branched off from the first and ran under Mrs. Kesselbach’s house.”

“What was the object?”

“To carry off Mrs. Kesselbach.”

“Were the two maids, Suzanne and Gertrude, accomplices?”

“Yes.”

“Where are they?”

“Abroad.”

“And your seven pals, those of the Altenheim gang?”

“I have left them. They are still going on.”

“Where can I find them?”

Dominique hesitated. Lupin unfolded two notes of a thousand francs each and said:

“Your scruples do you honor, Dominique. There’s nothing for it but to swallow them like a man and answer.”

Dominique replied:

“You will find them at No. 3, Route de la Revolte, Neuilly. One of them is called the Broker.”

“Capital. And now the name, the real name of Altenheim. Do you know it?”

“Yes, Ribeira.”

“Dominique, Dominique, you’re asking for trouble. Ribeira was only an assumed name. I asked you the real name.”

“Parbury.”

“That’s another assumed name.”

The head-waiter hesitated. Lupin unfolded three hundred franc notes.

“Pshaw, what do I care!” said the man. “After all, he’s dead, isn’t he? Quite dead.”

“His name,” said Lupin.

“His name? The Chevalier de Malreich.”

Lupin gave a jump in his chair:

“What? What do you say? The Chevalier—say it again—the Chevalier …?”

“Raoul de Malreich.”

A long pause. Lupin, with his eyes fixed before him, thought of the mad girl at Veldenz, who had died by poison: Isilda bore the same name, Malreich. And it was the name borne by the small French noble who came to the court of Veldenz in the eighteenth century.

He resumed his questions:

“What country did this Malreich belong to?”

“He was of French origin, but born in Germany … I saw some papers once … that was how I came to know his name … Oh, if he had found it out, he would have wrung my neck, I believe!”

Lupin reflected and said:

“Did he command the lot of you?”

“Yes.”

“But he had an accomplice, a partner?”

“Oh hush … hush … !”

The head-waiter’s face suddenly expressed the most intense alarm. Lupin noticed the same sort of terror and repulsion which he himself felt when he thought of the murderer.

“Who is he? Have you seen him?”

“Oh, don’t let us talk of that one … it doesn’t do to talk of him.”

“Who is he, I’m asking you.”

“He is the master … the chief … Nobody knows him.”

“But you’ve seen him, you. Answer me. Have you seen him?”

“Sometimes, in the dark … at night. Never by daylight. His orders come on little scraps of paper … or by telephone.”

“His name?”

“I don’t know it. We never used to speak of him. It was unlucky.”

“He dresses in black, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, in black. He is short and slender … with fair hair …”

“And he kills, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he kills … he kills where another might steal a bit of bread.”

His voice shook. He entreated:

“Let us stop this … it won’t do to talk of him … I tell you … it’s unlucky.”

Lupin was silent, impressed, in spite of himself, by the man’s anguish. He sat long thinking and then rose and said to the head-waiter:

“Here, here’s your money; but, if you want to live in peace, you will do well not to breathe a word of our conversation to anybody.”

He left the restaurant with Doudeville and walked to the Porte Saint-Denis without speaking, absorbed in all that he had heard. At last, he seized his companion’s arm and said:

“Listen to me, Doudeville, carefully. Go to the Gare du Nord. You will get there in time to catch the Luxemburg express. Go to Veldenz, the capital of the grand-duchy of Zweibrucken-Veldenz. At the town-hall, you will easily obtain the birth-certificate of the Chevalier de Malreich and further information about the family. You will be back on the day after to-morrow: that will be Saturday.”

“Am I to let them know at the detective-office?”

“I’ll see to that. I shall telephone that you are ill. Oh, one word more: on Saturday, meet me at twelve o’clock in a little café on the Route de la Revolte, called the Restaurant Buffalo. Come dressed as a workman.”

The next day, Lupin, wearing a short smock and a cap, went down to Neuilly and began his investigations at No. 3, Route de la Revolte. A gateway opened into an outer yard; and here he found a huge block of workmen’s dwellings, a whole series of passages and workshops, with a swarming population of artisans, women and brats. In a few minutes, he had won the good-will of the portress, with whom he chatted for an hour on the most varied topics. During this hour, he saw three men pass, one after the other, whose manner struck him: