f a tree, he climbed up the first layers of rock that formed
the grotto on the right. Here he knelt down. There was a small pickaxe
lying beside him. He took it and gave three blows to the nearest heap of
stones. They came tumbling down in front of the grotto.

Don Luis sprang from his hiding-place with a roar of terror. He had
suddenly realized the position: The grotto, the accumulation of boulders,
the piles of granite, everything was so placed that its equilibrium could
be shattered at any moment, and that Florence ran the risk of being
buried under the rubbish. It was not a question, therefore, of slaying
the villain, but of saving Florence on the spot.

He was halfway across in two or three seconds. But here, in one of those
mental flashes which are even quicker than the maddest rush, he became
aware that the tracks of trampled grass did not cross the central circus
and that the scoundrel had gone round it. Why? That was one of the
questions which instinct, ever suspicious, puts, but which reason has not
the time to answer. Don Luis went straight ahead. And he had no sooner
set foot on the place than the catastrophe occurred.

It all happened with incredible suddenness, as though he had tried to
walk on space and found himself hurled into it. The ground gave way
beneath him. The clods of grass separated, and he fell.

He fell down a hole which was none other than the mouth of a well four
feet wide at most, the curb of which had been cut down level with the
ground. Only this was what took place: as he was running very fast, his
impetus flung him against the opposite wall in such a way that his
forearms lay on the outer ledge and his hands were able to clutch at the
roots of plants.

So great was his strength that he might just have been able to drag
himself up by his wrists. But responding to the attack, the scoundrel had
at once hurried to meet his assailant and was now standing at ten paces
from Don Luis, threatening him with his revolver:

"Don't move!" he cried, "or I'll smash you!"

Don Luis was thus reduced to helplessness, at the risk of receiving the
enemy's fire.

Their eyes met for a few seconds. The cripple's were burning with fever,
like the eyes of a sick man.

Crawling along, watching Don Luis's slightest movement, he came and
squatted beside the well. The revolver was levelled in his outstretched
hand. And his infernal chuckle rang out again:

"Lupin! Lupin! That's done it! Lupin's dive!...