at
good could the possession of that crystal stopper do him so long as he
was ignorant of its value? That bit of glass had no existence in itself;
it counted only through the meaning that attached to it. Before taking
it, the thing was to be certain. And how could he tell that, in taking
it, in robbing Daubrecq of it, he was not committing an act of folly?

It was a question which was impossible of solution, but which forced
itself upon him with singular directness.

"No blunders!" he said to himself, as he pocketed the stopper. "In this
confounded business, blunders are fatal."

He had not taken his eyes off Victoire. Accompanied by a shopman, she
went from counter to counter, among the throng of customers. She next
stood for some little while at the pay-desk and passed in front of
Lupin.

He whispered her instructions:

"Meet me behind the Lycee Janson."

She joined him in an unfrequented street:

"And suppose I'm followed?" she said.

"No," he declared. "I looked carefully. Listen to me. Where did you find
the stopper?"

"In the drawer of the table by his bed."

"But we had felt there already."

"Yes; and I did so again this morning. I expect he put it there last
night."

"And I expect he'll want to take it from there again," said Lupin.

"Very likely."

"And suppose he finds it gone?"

Victoire looked frightened.

"Answer me," said Lupin. "If he finds it gone, he'll accuse you of
taking it, won't he?"

"Certainly."

"Then go and put it back, as fast as you can."

"Oh dear, oh dear!" she moaned. "I hope he won't have had time to find
out. Give it to me, quick."

"Here you are," said Lupin.

He felt in the pocket of his overcoat.

"Well?" said Victoire, holding out her hand.

"Well," he said, after a moment, "it's gone."

"What!"

"Yes, upon my word, it's gone... somebody's taken it from me."

He burst into a peal of laughter, a laughter which, this time, was free
from all bitterness.

Victoire flew out at him:

"Laugh away!... Putting me in such a predicament!..."

"How can I help laughing? You must confess that it's funny. It's
no longer a tragedy that we're acting, but a fairy-tale, as much a
fairy-tale as Puss in Boots or Jack and the Beanstalk. I must write it
when I get a few weeks to myself: The Magic Stopper; or, The Mishaps of
Poor Arsene."

"Well... who has taken it from you?"

"What are you talking about?... It has flown away... vanished from my
pocket: hey prest