"Well, what of it?"

"I refuse."

The two men stood up to each other once more, violent and implacable.

"I refuse," said Sernine. "Lupin requires nobody, in order to act. I am one of those who walk alone. If you were my equal, as you pretend, the idea of a partnership would never have entered your head. The man who has the stature of a leader commands. Union implies obedience. I do not obey."

"You refuse? You refuse?" repeated Altenheim, turning pale under the insult.

"All that I can do for you, old chap, is to offer you a place in my band. You'll be a private soldier, to begin with. Under my orders, you shall see how a general wins a battle ... and how he pockets the booty, by himself and for himself. Does that suit you ... Tommy?"

Altenheim was beside himself with fury. He gnashed his teeth:

"You are making a mistake, Lupin," he mumbled, "you are making a mistake... . I don't want anybody either; and this business gives me no more difficulty than plenty of others which I have pulled off... .

What I said was said in order to effect our object more quickly and without inconveniencing each other."

"You're not inconveniencing me," said Lupin, scornfully.

"Look here! If we don't combine, only one of us will succeed."

"That's good enough for me."

"And he will only succeed by passing over the other's body. Are you prepared for that sort of duel, Lupin? A duel to the death, do you understand? ... The knife is a method which you despise; but suppose you received one, Lupin, right in the throat?"

"Aha! So, when all is said, that's what you propose?"

"No, I am not very fond of shedding blood... . Look at my fists: I strike ... and my man falls... . I have special blows of my own.

... But _the other one_ kills ... remember ... the little wound in the throat... . Ah, Lupin, beware of him, beware of that one! ... He is terrible, he is implacable... . Nothing stops him."

He spoke these words in a low voice and with such excitement that Sernine shuddered at the hideous thought of the unknown murderer:

"Baron," he sneered, "one would think you were afraid of your accomplice!"

"I am afraid for the others, for those who bar our road, for you, Lupin. Accept, or you are lost. I shall act myself, if necessary. The goal is too near ... I have my hand on it... . Get out of my way, Lupin!"

He was all energy and exasperated will. He spoke forcibly and so brutally that he seemed ready to strike his enemy then and there.

Sernine shrugged his shoulders:

"Lord, how hungry I am!" he said, yawning. "What a time to lunch at!"

The door opened.

"Lunch is served, sir," said the butler.

"Ah, that's good hearing!"

In the doorway, Altenheim caught Sernine by the arm and, disregarding the servant's presence:

"If you take my advice ... accept. This is a serious moment in your life ... and you will do better, I swear to you, you will do better ... to accept... ."

"Caviare!" cried Sernine. "Now, that's too sweet of you... . You remembered that you were entertaining a Russian prince!"

They sat down facing each other, with the baron's greyhound, a large animal with long, silver hair, between them.

"Let me introduce Sirius, my most faithful friend."

"A fellow-countryman," said Sernine. "I shall never forget the one which the Tsar was good enough to give me when I had the honor to save his life."

"Ah, you had that honor ... a terrorist conspiracy, no doubt?"

"Yes, a conspiracy got up by myself. You must know, this dog--its name, by the way, was Sebastopol... ."

The lunch continued merrily. Altenheim had recovered his good humor and the two men vied with each other in wit and politeness. Sernine told anecdotes which the baron capped with others; and it was a succession of stories of hunting, sport and travel, in which the oldest names in Europe were constantly cropping up: Spanish grandees, English lords, Hungarian magyars, Austrian archdukes.

"Ah," said Sernine, "what a fine profession is ours! It brings us into touch with all the best people. Here, Sirius, a bit of this truffled chicken!"

The dog did not take his eyes off him, and snapped at everything that Sernine gave it.

"A glass of Chambertin, prince?"

"With pleasure, baron."

"I can recommend it. It comes from King Leopold's cellar."

"A present?"

"Yes, a present I made myself."

"It's delicious... . What a bouquet! ... With this _pate de foie gras_, it's simply wonderful! ... I must congratulate you, baron; you have a first-rate chef."

"My chef is a woman-cook, prince. I bribed her with untold gold to leave Levraud, the socialist deputy. I say, try this hot chocolate-ice; and let me call your special attention to the little dry cakes that go with it. They're an invention of genius, those cakes."

"The shape is charming, in any case," said Sernine, helping himself. "If they taste as good as they look... . Here, Sirius, you're sure to like this. Locusta herself could not have done better."

He took one of the cakes and gave it to the dog. Sirius swallowed it at a gulp, stood motionless for two or three seconds, as though dazed, then turned in a circle and fell to the floor dead.

Sernine started back from his chair, lest one of the footmen should fall upon him unawares. Then he burst out laughing:

"Look here, baron, next time you want to poison one of your friends, try to steady your voice and to keep your hands from shaking... .

Otherwise, people suspect you... . But I thought you disliked murder?"

"With the knife, yes," said Altenheim, quite unperturbed. "But I have always had a wish to poison some one. I wanted to see what it was like."

"By Jove, old chap, you choose your subjects well! A Russian prince!"

He walked up to Altenheim and, in a confidential tone, said:

"Do you know what would have happened if you had succeeded, that is to say, if my friends had not seen me return at three o'clock at the latest? Well, at half-past three the prefect of police would have known exactly all that there was to know about the so-called Baron Altenheim; and the said baron would have been copped before the day was out and clapped into jail."