you’re not going to stop here?” cried Lupin.
“Make me stir if you can. I’m as fond of you as she is—you know I am,” said Victoire, and her face set stonily obstinate.
Lupin begged her to go; ordered her to go; he seized her by the shoulder, shook her, and abused her like a pickpocket. She would not stir. He abandoned the effort, sat down, and knitted his brow again in profound and painful thought, working out his plan. Now and again his eyes flashed, once or twice they twinkled. Victoire watched his face with just the faintest hope on her own.
It was past five-and-twenty minutes to nine when the front-door bell rang. They gazed at one another with an unspoken question on their lips. The eyes of Victoire were scared, but in the eyes of Lupin the light of battle was gathering.
“It’s her,” said Victoire under her breath.
“No,” said Lupin. “It’s Guerchard.”
He sprang to his feet with shining eyes. His lips were curved in a fighting smile. “The game isn’t lost yet,” he said in a tense, quiet voice. “I’m going to play it to the end. I’ve a card or two left still—good cards. I’m still the Duke of Charmerace.” He turned to her.
“Now listen to me,” he said. “Go down and open the door for him.”
“What, you want me to?” said Victoire, in a shaky voice.
“Yes, I do. Listen to me carefully. When you have opened the door, slip out of it and watch the house. Don’t go too far from it. Look out for Sonia. You’ll see her coming. Stop her from entering, Victoire—stop her from entering.” He spoke coolly, but his voice shook on the last words.
“But if Guerchard arrests me?” said Victoire.
“He won’t. When he comes in, stand behind the door. He will be too eager to get to me to stop for you. Besides, for him you don’t count in the game. Once you’re out of the house, I’ll hold him here for—for half an hour. That will leave a margin. Sonia will hurry here. She should be here in twelve minutes. Get her away to the house at Passy. If I don’t come keep her there; she’s to live with you. But I shall come.”
As he spoke he was pushing her towards the door.
The bell rang again. They were at the top of the stairs.
“And suppose he does arrest me?” said Victoire breathlessly.
“Never mind, you must go all the same,” said Lupin. “Don’t give up hope—trust to me. Go—go—for my sake.”
“I’m going, dearie,” said Victoire; and she went down the stairs steadily, with a brave air.
He watched her half-way down the flight; then he muttered:
“If only she gets to Sonia in time.”
He turned, went into the smoking-room, and shut the door. He sat quietly down in an easy chair, lighted a cigarette, and took up a paper. He heard the noise of the traffic in the street grow louder as the front door was opened. There was a pause; then he heard the door bang. There was the sound of a hasty footstep on the stairs; the door flew open, and Guerchard bounced into the room.
He stopped short in front of the door at the sight of Lupin, quietly reading, smoking at his ease. He had expected to find the bird flown. He stood still, hesitating, shuffling his feet—all his doubts had returned; and Lupin smiled at him over the lowered paper.
Guerchard pulled himself together by a violent effort, and said jerkily, “Good-morning, Lupin.”
“Good-morning, M. Guerchard,” said Lupin, with an ambiguous smile and all the air of the Duke of Charmerace.
“You were expecting me?… I hope I haven’t kept you waiting,” said Guerchard, with an air of bravado.
“No, thank you: the time has passed quite quickly. I have so much to do in the morning always,” said Lupin. “I hope you had a good night after that unfortunate business of the coronet. That was a disaster; and so unexpected too.”
Guerchard came a few steps into the room, still hesitating:
“You’ve a very charming house here,” he said, with a sneer.
“It’s central,” said Lupin carelessly. “You must please excuse me, if I cannot receive you as I should like; but all my servants have bolted. Those confounded detectives of yours have frightened them away.”
“You needn’t bother about that. I shall catch them,” said Guerchard.
“If you do, I’m sure I wish you joy of them. Do, please, keep your hat on,” said Lupin with ironic politeness.
Guerchard came slowly to the middle of the room, raising his hand to his hat, letting it fall again without taking it off. He sat down slowly facing him, and they gazed at one another with the wary eyes of duellists crossing swords at the beginning of a duel.
“Did you get M. Formery to sign a little warrant?” said Lupin, in a caressing tone full of quiet mockery.
“I did,” said Guerchard through his teeth.
“And have you got it on you?” said Lupin.
“I have,” said Guerchard.
“Against Lupin, or against the Duke of Charmerace?” said Lupin.
“Against Lupin, called Charmerace,” said Guerchard.
“Well, that ought to cover me pretty well. Why don’t you arrest me? What are you waiting for?” said Lupin. His face was entirely serene, his eyes were careless, his tone indifferent.
“I’m not waiting for anything,” said Guerchard thickly; “but it gives me such pleasure that I wish to enjoy this minute to the utmost. Lupin,” said Guerchard; and his eyes gloated on him.
“Lupin, himself,” said Lupin, smiling.
“I hardly dare believe it,” said Guerchard.
“You’re quite right not to,” said Lupin.
“Yes, I hardly dare believe it. You alive, here at my mercy?”
“Oh, dear no, not yet,” said Lupin.
“Yes,” said Guerchard, in a decisive tone. “And ever so much more than you think.” He bent forwards towards him, with his hands on his knees, and said, “Do you know where Sonia Kritchnoff is at this moment?”
“What?” said Lupin sharply.
“I ask if you know where Sonia Kritchnoff is?” said Guerchard slowly, lingering over the words.
“Do you?” said Lupin.
“I do,” said Guerchard triumphantly.
“Where is she?” said Lupin, in a tone of utter incredulity.
“In a small hotel near the Star. The hotel has a telephone; and you can make sure,” said Guerchard.
