ne mighty will. But how is this will exerted? Through
what intermediaries, through what subordinates? That is what I do not
know. Lupin keeps his secret; and the secrets which Lupin chooses to
keep are, so to speak, impenetrable.

The only supposition which I can allow myself to make is that this gang,
which, in my opinion, is very limited in numbers and therefore all the
more formidable, is completed and extended indefinitely by the addition
of independent units, provisional associates, picked up in every class
of society and in every country of the world, who are the executive
agents of an authority with which, in many cases, they are not even
acquainted. The companions, the initiates, the faithful adherents--men
who play the leading parts under the direct command of Lupin--move to
and fro between these secondary agents and the master.

Gilbert and Vaucheray evidently belonged to the main gang. And that is
why the law showed itself so implacable in their regard. For the first
time, it held accomplices of Lupin in its clutches--declared, undisputed
accomplices--and those accomplices had committed a murder. If the murder
was premeditated, if the accusation of deliberate homicide could be
supported by substantial proofs, it meant the scaffold. Now there was,
at the very least, one self-evident proof, the cry for assistance which
Leonard had sent over the telephone a few minutes before his death:

"Help!... Murder!... I shall be killed!..."

The desperate appeal had been heard by two men, the operator on duty
and one of his fellow-clerks, who swore to it positively. And it was
in consequence of this appeal that the commissary of police, who was at
once informed, had proceeded to the Villa Marie-Therese, escorted by his
men and a number of soldiers off duty.

Lupin had a very clear notion of the danger from the first. The fierce
struggle in which he had engaged against society was entering upon a new
and terrible phase. His luck was turning. It was no longer a matter of
attacking others, but of defending himself and saving the heads of his
two companions.

A little memorandum, which I have copied from one of the note-books in
which he often jots down a summary of the situations that perplex him,
will show us the workings of his brain:

"One definite fact, to begin with, is that Gilbert and Vaucheray
humbugged me. The Enghien expedition, undertaken ostensibly with the
object of robbing the Villa Marie-Therese, had a