at the woman was gone.
She could not be far. Darting from the box, he set off at a run,
regardless of the programme-sellers and check-takers.
On reaching the entrance-lobby, he saw her through an open door,
crossing the pavement of the Chaussee d'Antin.
She was stepping into a motor-car when he came up with her.
The door closed behind her.
He seized the handle and tried to pull at it.
But a man jumped up inside and sent his fist flying into Lupin's
face, with less skill but no less force than Lupin had sent his into
Daubrecq's face.
Stunned though he was by the blow, he nevertheless had ample time to
recognize the man, in a sudden, startled vision, and also to recognize,
under his chauffeur's disguise, the man who was driving the car. It was
the Growler and the Masher, the two men in charge of the boats on the
Enghien night, two friends of Gilbert and Vaucheray: in short, two of
Lupin's own accomplices.
When he reached his rooms in the Rue Chateaubriand, Lupin, after washing
the blood from his face, sat for over an hour in a chair, as though
overwhelmed. For the first time in his life he was experiencing the pain
of treachery. For the first time his comrades in the fight were turning
against their chief.
Mechanically, to divert his thoughts, he turned to his correspondence
and tore the wrapper from an evening paper. Among the late news he found
the following paragraphs:
"THE VILLA MARIE-THERESE CASE"
"The real identity of Vaucheray, one of the alleged
murderers of Leonard the valet, has at last been ascertained.
He is a miscreant of the worst type, a hardened criminal who
has already twice been sentenced for murder, in default, under
another name.
"No doubt, the police will end by also discovering the real name
of his accomplice, Gilbert. In any event, the examining-magistrate
is determined to commit the prisoners for trial as soon as possible.
"The public will have no reason to complain of the delays of the law."
In between other newspapers and prospectuses lay a letter.
Lupin jumped when he saw it. It was addressed:
"Monsieur de Beaumont, Michel."
"Oh," he gasped, "a letter from Gilbert!"
It contained these few words:
"Help, governor!... I am frightened. I am frightened..."
Once again, Lupin spent a night alternating between sleeplessness and
nightmares. Once again, he was tormented by atrocious and terrifying
visions.
CHAPTER IV. THE CHIEF OF
|