"Silence!" said the stranger, sharply. "Don't use that word."

"Then what shall I call Your ..."

"Call me nothing."

They were both silent; and this moment of respite was not one of those which go before the struggle of two adversaries ready for the fray. The stranger strode to and fro with the air of a master accustomed to command and to be obeyed. Lupin stood motionless. He had abandoned his usual provocative attitude and his sarcastic smile. He waited, gravely and deferentially. But, down in the depths of his being, he revelled, eagerly, madly, in the marvellous situation in which he found himself placed: here, in his cell, he, a prisoner; he, the adventurer; he, the swindler, the burglar; he, Arsene Lupin ... face to face with that demi-god of the modern world, that formidable entity, the heir of Caesar and of Charlemagne.

He was intoxicated for a moment with the sense of his own power. The tears came to his eyes when he thought of his triumph... .

The stranger stood still.

And at once, with the very first sentence, they came to the immediate point:

"To-morrow is the 22nd of August. The letters are to be published to-morrow, are they not?"

"To-night, in two hours from now, my friends are to hand in to the _Grand Journal_, not the letters themselves, but an exact list of the letters, with the Grand-duke Hermann's annotations."

"That list shall not be handed in."

"It shall not be."

"You will give it to me."

"It shall be placed in the hands of Your ... in your hands."

"Likewise, all the letters?"

"Likewise, all the letters."

"Without any of them being photographed?"

"Without any of them being photographed."

The stranger spoke in a very calm voice, containing not the least accent of entreaty nor the least inflection of authority. He neither ordered nor requested; he stated the inevitable actions of Arsene Lupin. Things would happen as he said. And they would happen, whatever Arsene Lupin's demands should be, at whatever price he might value the performance of those actions. The conditions were accepted beforehand.

"By Jove," said Lupin to himself, "that's jolly clever of him! If he leaves it to my generosity, I am a ruined man!"

The very way in which the conversation opened, the frankness of the words employed, the charm of voice and manner all pleased him infinitely.

He pulled himself together, lest he should relent and abandon all the advantages which he had conquered so fiercely.

And the stranger continued:

"Have you read the letters?"

"No."

"But some one you know has read them?"

"No."

"In that case ..."

"I have the grand-duke's list and his notes. Moreover, I know the hiding-place where he put all his papers."

"Why did you not take them before this?"

"I did not know the secret of the hiding-place until I came here. My friends are on the way there now."

"The castle is guarded. It is occupied by two hundred of my most trusty men."

"Ten thousand would not be sufficient."

After a minute's reflection, the visitor asked:

"How do you know the secret?"

"I guessed it."

"But you had other elements of information which the papers did not publish?"

"No, none at all."

"And yet I had the castle searched for four days."

"Holmlock Shears looked in the wrong place."

"Ah!" said the stranger to himself. "It's an odd thing, an odd thing!

..." And, to Lupin, "You are sure that your supposition is correct?"

"It is not a supposition: it is a certainty."

"So much the better," muttered the visitor. "There will be no rest until those papers cease to exist."

And, placing himself in front of Arsene Lupin:

"How much?"

"What?" said Lupin, taken aback.

"How much for the papers? How much do you ask to reveal the secret?"

He waited for Lupin to name a figure. He suggested one himself:

"Fifty thousand? ... A hundred thousand?"

And, when Lupin did not reply, he said, with a little hesitation: