Lupin shock his head with a careless smile, and said, “Why should I telephone to her? What are you driving at?”
“Nothing…that’s all,” said Guerchard. And he leant back in his chair with an ugly smile on his face.
“Evidently nothing. For, after all, what has that child got to do with you? You’re not interested in her, plainly. She’s not big enough game for you. It’s me you are hunting…it’s me you hate…it’s me you want. I’ve played you tricks enough for that, you old scoundrel. So you’re going to leave that child in peace?… You’re not going to revenge yourself on her?… It’s all very well for you to be a policeman; it’s all very well for you to hate me; but there are things one does not do.” There was a ring of menace and appeal in the deep, ringing tones of his voice. “You’re not going to do that, Guerchard.… You will not do it.… Me—yes—anything you like. But her—her you must not touch.” He gazed at the detective with fierce, appealing eyes.
“That depends on you,” said Guerchard curtly.
“On me?” cried Lupin, in genuine surprise.
“Yes, I’ve a little bargain to propose to you,” said Guerchard.
“Have you?” said Lupin; and his watchful face was serene again, his smile almost pleasant.
“Yes,” said Guerchard. And he paused, hesitating.
“Well, what is it you want?” said Lupin. “Out with it! Don’t be shy about it.”
“I offer you—”
“You offer me?” cried Lupin. “Then it isn’t true. You’re fooling me.”
“Reassure yourself,” said Guerchard coldly. “To you personally I offer nothing.”
“Then you are sincere,” said Lupin. “And putting me out of the question?”
“I offer you liberty.”
“Who for? For my concierge?” said Lupin.
“Don’t play the fool. You care only for a single person in the world. I hold you through her: Sonia Kritchnoff.”
Lupin burst into a ringing, irrepressible laugh:
“Why, you’re trying to blackmail me, you old sweep!” he cried.
“If you like to call it so,” said Guerchard coldly.
Lupin rose and walked backwards and forwards across the room, frowning, calculating, glancing keenly at Guerchard, weighing him. Twice he looked at the clock.
He stopped and said coldly: “So be it. For the moment you’re the stronger.… That won’t last.… But you offer me this child’s liberty.”
“That’s my offer,” said Guerchard; and his eyes brightened at the prospect of success.
“Her complete liberty?… on your word of honour?” said Lupin; and he had something of the air of a cat playing with a mouse.
“On my word of honour,” said Guerchard.
“Can you do it?” said Lupin, with a sudden air of doubt; and he looked sharply from Guerchard to the clock.
“I undertake to do it,” said Guerchard confidently.
“But how?” said Lupin, looking at him with an expression of the gravest doubt.
“Oh, I’ll put the thefts on your shoulders. That will let her out all right,” said Guerchard.
“I’ve certainly good broad shoulders,” said Lupin, with a bitter smile. He walked slowly up and down with an air that grew more and more depressed: it was almost the air of a beaten man. Then he stopped and faced Guerchard, and said: “And what is it you want in exchange?”
“Everything,” said Guerchard, with the air of a man who is winning. “You must give me back the pictures, tapestry, Renaissance cabinets, the coronet, and all the information about the death of the Duke of Charmerace. Did you kill him?”
“If ever I commit suicide, you’ll know all about it, my good Guerchard. You’ll be there. You may even join me,” said Lupin grimly; he resumed his pacing up and down the room.
“Done for, yes; I shall be done for,” he said presently. “The fact is, you want my skin.”
“Yes, I want your skin,” said Guerchard, in a low, savage, vindictive tone.
“My skin,” said Lupin thoughtfully.
“Are you going to do it? Think of that girl,” said Guerchard, in a fresh access of uneasy anxiety.
Lupin laughed: “I can give you a glass of port,” he said, “but I’m afraid that’s all I can do for you.”
“I’ll throw Victoire in,” said Guerchard.
“What?” cried Lupin. “You’ve arrested Victoire?” There was a ring of utter dismay, almost despair, in his tone.
“Yes; and I’ll throw her in. She shall go scot-free. I won’t bother with her,” said Guerchard eagerly.
The front-door bell rang.
“Wait, wait. Let me think,” said Lupin hoarsely; and he strove to adjust his jostling ideas, to meet with a fresh plan this fresh disaster.
He stood listening with all his ears. There were footsteps on the stairs, and the door opened. Dieusy stood on the threshold.
“Who is it?” said Guerchard.
“I accept—I accept everything,” cried Lupin in a frantic tone.
“It’s a tradesman; am I to detain him?” said Dieusy. “You told me to let you know who came and take instructions.”
“A tradesman? Then I refuse!” cried Lupin, in an ecstasy of relief.
“No, you needn’t keep him,” said Guerchard, to Dieusy.
Dieusy went out and shut the door.
“You refuse?” said Guerchard.
“I refuse,” said Lupin.
“I’m going to gaol that girl,” said Guerchard savagely; and he took a step towards the door.
“Not for long,” said Lupin quietly. “You have no proof.”
“She’ll furnish the proof all right herself—plenty of proofs,” said Guerchard brutally. “What chance has a silly child like that got, when we really start questioning her? A delicate creature like that will crumple up before the end of the third day’s cross-examination.”
“You swine!” said Lupin. “You know well enough that I can do it—on my head—with a feeble child like that; and you know your Code; five years is the minimum,” said Guerchard,
