The baron gasped out unintelligible syllables. Leaning over him, affrighted, straining all his energy, all his will to the utmost, Sernine panted with anguish. He no longer gave a thought to the policemen, his inevitable capture, prison... . But Genevieve... .

Genevieve dying of hunger, whom one word from that villain could set free! ...

"Answer! ... You must! ..."

He ordered and entreated by turns. Altenheim stammered, as though hypnotized and defeated by that indomitable imperiousness:

"Ri ... Rivoli... ."

"Rue de Rivoli, is that it? You have locked her up in a house in that street ... eh? Which number?"

A loud din ... followed by shouts of triumph... . The door was down.

"Jump on him, lads!" cried M. Weber. "Seize him ... seize both of them!"

And Sernine, on his knees:

"The number ... answer... . If you love her, answer... . Why keep silence now?"

"Twenty ... twenty-seven," whispered the baron.

Hands were laid on Sernine. Ten revolvers were pointed at him.

He rose and faced the policemen, who fell back with instinctive dread.

"If you stir, Lupin," cried M. Weber, with his revolver leveled at him, "I'll blow out your brains."'

"Don't shoot." said Sernine, solemnly. "It's not necessary. I surrender."

"Humbug! This is another of your tricks!"

"No," replied Sernine, "the battle is lost. You have no right to shoot.

I am not defending myself."

He took out two revolvers and threw them on the floor.

"Humbug!" M. Weber repeated, implacably. "Aim straight at his heart, lads! At the least movement, fire! At the least word, fire!"

There were ten men there. He placed five more in position. He pointed their fifteen right arms at the mark. And, raging, shaking with joy and fear, he snarled:

"At his heart! At his head! And no pity! If he stirs, if he speaks ...

shoot him where he stands!"

Sernine smiled, impassively, with his hands in his pockets. Death was there, waiting for him, at two inches from his chest, at two inches from his temples. Fifteen fingers were curled round the triggers.

"Ah," chuckled M. Weber, "this is nice, this is very nice! ... And I think that this time we've scored ... and it's a nasty look-out for you, Master Lupin! ..."

He made one of his men draw back the shutters of a large air-hole, which admitted a sudden burst of daylight, and he turned toward Altenheim.

But, to his great amazement, the baron, whom he thought dead, opened his eyes, glazed, awful eyes, already filled with all the signs of the coming dissolution. He stared at M. Weber. Then he seemed to look for somebody and, catching sight of Sernine, had a convulsion of anger. He seemed to be waking from his torpor; and his suddenly reviving hatred restored a part of his strength.

He raised himself on his two wrists and tried to speak.

"You know him, eh?" asked M. Weber.

"Yes."

"It's Lupin, isn't it?"

"Yes... . Lupin... ."

Sernine, still smiling, listened:

"Heavens, how I'm amusing myself!" he declared.

"Have you anything more to say?" asked M. Weber, who saw the baron's lips making desperate attempts to move.

"Yes."

"About M. Lenormand, perhaps?"

"Yes."

"Have you shut him up? Where? Answer! ..."

With all his heaving body, with all his tense glance, Altenheim pointed to a cupboard in the corner of the room.

"There ... there ..." he said.

"Ah, we're burning!" chuckled Lupin.

M. Weber opened the cupboard. On one of the shelves was a parcel wrapped in black cloth. He opened it and found a hat, a little box, some clothes... . He gave a start. He had recognized M. Lenormand's olive-green frock-coat.

"Oh, the villains!" he cried. "They have murdered him!"

"No," said Altenheim, shaking his head.

"Then ... ?"

"It's he ... he ..."

"What do you mean by 'he'? ... Did Lupin kill the chief?"

"No... ."

Altenheim was clinging to existence with fierce obstinacy, eager to speak and to accuse... . The secret which he wished to reveal was at the tip of his tongue and he was not able, did not know how to translate it into words.

"Come," the deputy-chief insisted. "M. Lenormand is dead, surely?"

"No."