fined face; but they both wore the same air
of implacable resolve.

The widow leant forward and said:

"Are you prepared to answer my questions?"

"Why not?"

"Then listen to me. How did you know that Dugrival carried all his money
in his pocket?"

"Servants' gossip...."

"A young man-servant whom we had in our employ: was that it?"

"Yes."

"And did you steal Dugrival's watch in order to give it back to him and
inspire him with confidence?"

"Yes."

She suppressed a movement of fury:

"You fool! You fool!... What! You rob my man, you drive him to kill
himself and, instead of making tracks to the uttermost ends of the earth
and hiding yourself, you go on playing Lupin in the heart of Paris!...
Did you forget that I swore, on my dead husband's head, to find his
murderer?"

"That's what staggers me," said Lupin. "How did you come to suspect me?"

"How? Why, you gave yourself away!"

"I did?..."

"Of course.... The fifty thousand francs...."

"Well, what about it? A present...."

"Yes, a present which you gave cabled instructions to have sent to me,
so as to make believe that you were in America on the day of the races.
A present, indeed! What humbug! The fact is, you didn't like to think of
the poor fellow whom you had murdered. So you restored the money to the
widow, publicly, of course, because you love playing to the gallery and
ranting and posing, like the mountebank that you are. That was all very
nicely thought out. Only, my fine fellow, you ought not to have sent me
the selfsame notes that were stolen from Dugrival! Yes, you silly fool,
the selfsame notes and no others! We knew the numbers, Dugrival and I
did. And you were stupid enough to send the bundle to me. Now do you
understand your folly?"

Lupin began to laugh:

"It was a pretty blunder, I confess. I'm not responsible; I gave
different orders. But, all the same I can't blame any one except
myself."

"Ah, so you admit it! You signed your theft and you signed your ruin at
the same time. There was nothing left to be done but to find you. Find
you? No, better than that. Sensible people don't find Lupin: they make
him come to them! That was a masterly notion. It belongs to my young
nephew, who loathes you as much as I do, if possible, and who knows you
thoroughly, through reading all the books that have been written about
you. He knows your prying nature, your need to be always plotting, your
mania for hunting in the dark and unravel