He gave a tap on the shoulder to a young man who was crossing the Chaussee de la Muette and going toward the Rue des Vignes. The young man stopped, stared at him and said:

"I beg your pardon, monsieur, but I don't think I have the honor ..."

"Think again, my dear M. Leduc. Or has your memory quite gone? Don't you remember Versailles? And the little room at the Hotel des Trois-Empereurs?"

The young man bounded backwards:

"You!"

"Why, yes, I! Prince Sernine, or rather Lupin, since you know my real name! Did you think that Lupin had departed this life? ... Oh, yes, I see, prison... . You were hoping ... Get out, you baby!" He patted him gently on the shoulder. "There, there, young fellow, don't be frightened: you have still a few nice quiet days left to write your poems in. The time has not yet come. Write your verses ... poet!"

Then he gripped Leduc's arm violently and, looking him full in the face, said:

"But the time is drawing near ... poet! Don't forget that you belong to me, body and soul. And prepare to play your part. It will be a hard and magnificent part. And, as I live, I believe you're the man to play it!"

He burst out laughing, turned on one foot and left young Leduc astounded.

A little further, at the corner of the Rue de la Pompe, stood the wine-shop of which Mrs. Kesselbach had spoken to him. He went in and had a long talk with the proprietor.

Then he took a taxi and drove to the Grand Hotel, where he was staying under the name of Andre Beauny, and found the brothers Doudeville waiting for him.

Lupin, though used to that sort of pleasure, nevertheless enjoyed the marks of admiration and devotion with which his friends overwhelmed him:

"But, governor, tell us ... what happened? We're accustomed to all sorts of wonders with you; but still, there are limits... . So you are free? And here you are, in the heart of Paris, scarcely disguised.

"Have a cigar," said Lupin.

"Thank you, no."

"You're wrong, Doudeville. These are worth smoking. I have them from a great connoisseur, who is good enough to call himself my friend."

"Oh, may one ask ... ?"

"The Kaiser! Come, don't look so flabbergasted, the two of you! And tell me things: I haven't seen the papers. What effect did my escape have on the public?"

"Tremendous, governor!"

"What was the police version?"

"Your flight took place at Garches, during an attempt to reenact the murder of Altenheim. Unfortunately, the journalists have proved that it was impossible."

"After that?"

"After that, a general fluster. People wondering, laughing and enjoying themselves like mad."

"Weber?"

"Weber is badly let in."

"Apart from that, no news at the detective-office? Nothing discovered about the murderer? No clue to help us to establish Altenheim's identity?"

"No."

"What fools they are! And to think that we pay millions a year to keep those people. If this sort of thing goes on, I shall refuse to pay my rates. Take a seat and a pen. I will dictate a letter which you must hand in to the _Grand Journal_ this evening. The world has been waiting for news of me long enough. It must be gasping with impatience. Write."

He dictated:

"To the Editor of the _Grand Journal_:

"SIR,

"I must apologize to your readers for disappointing their legitimate impatience.

"I have escaped from prison and I cannot possibly reveal how I escaped. In the same way, since my escape, I have discovered the famous secret and I cannot possibly disclose what the secret is nor how I discovered it.

"All this will, some day or other, form the subject of a rather original story which my biographer-in-ordinary will publish from my notes. It will form a page of the history of France which our grandchildren will read with interest.

"For the moment, I have more important matters to attend to. Disgusted at seeing into what hands the functions which I once exercised have fallen, tired of finding the Kesselbach-Altenheim case still dragging along, I am discharging M. Weber and resuming the post of honor which I occupied with such distinction and to the general satisfaction under the name of M.

Lenormand.

"I am, Sir, "Your obedient servant.

"ARSeNE LUPIN, "_Chief of the Detective-service_."

At eight o'clock in the evening, Arsene Lupin and Jean Doudeville walked into Caillard's, the fashionable restaurant, Lupin in evening-clothes, but dressed like an artist, with rather wide trousers and a rather loose tie, and Doudeville in a frock-coat, with the serious air and appearance of a magistrate.

They sat down in that part of the restaurant which is set back and divided from the big room by two columns.

A head-waiter, perfectly dressed and supercilious in manner, came to take their orders, note-book in hand. Lupin selected the dinner with the nice thought of an accomplished epicure:

"Certainly," he said, "the prison ordinary was quite acceptable; but, all the same, it is nice to have a carefully-ordered meal."

He ate with a good appetite and silently, contenting himself with uttering, from time to time, a short sentence that marked his train of thought:

"Of course, I shall manage ... but it will be a hard job... . Such an adversary! ... What staggers me is that, after six months'

fighting, I don't even know what he wants! ... His chief accomplice is dead, we are near the end of the battle and yet, even now, I can't understand his game... . What is the wretch after? ... My own plan is quite clear: to lay hands on the grand-duchy, to shove a grand-duke of my own making on the throne, to give him Genevieve for a wife ...

and to reign. That is what I call lucid, honest and fair. But he, the low fellow, the ghost in the dark: what is he aiming at?"

He called:

"Waiter!"

The head-waiter came up:

"Yes, sir?"

"Cigars."