here he had placed the pocket-book
containing his papers:

"Hullo!" he said, in great surprise. "I was sure I had--"

He felt in the left outside pocket, then in the handkerchief-pocket,
then, with feverish excitement, in both the inside pockets. The
pocket-book was not there. And, to his extreme amazement, all the
other things which he was absolutely certain that he had left in the
pockets of his jacket were gone: his cigarette-case, his box of
matches, his notebook.

He was flabbergasted. His features became distorted. He spluttered
incomprehensible words, while the most terrible thought took hold of his
mind so forcibly as to become a reality: there was some one within the
precincts of the Old Castle.

There was some one within the precincts of the Old Castle! And this some
one was now hiding near the ruins, in the ruins perhaps! And this some
one had seen him! And this some one had witnessed the death of Arsene
Lupin and the death of Florence Levasseur! And this some one, taking
advantage of his heedlessness and knowing from his words that the papers
existed, had searched his jacket and rifled the pockets!

His eyes expressed the alarm of a man accustomed to work in the darkness
unperceived, and who suddenly becomes aware that another's eyes have
surprised him at his hateful task and that he is being watched in every
movement for the first time in his life.

Whence did that look come that troubled him as the daylight troubles a
bird of the night? Was it an intruder hiding there by accident, or an
enemy bent upon his destruction? Was it an accomplice of Arsene Lupin, a
friend of Florence, one of the police? And was this adversary satisfied
with his stolen booty, or was he preparing to attack him?

The cripple dared not stir. He was there, exposed to assault, on open
ground, with nothing to protect him against the blows that might come
before he even knew where the adversary was.

At last, however, the imminence of the danger gave him back some of his
strength. Still motionless, he inspected his surroundings with an
attention so keen that it seemed as if no detail could escape him. He
would have sighted the most indistinct shape among the stones of the
ruined pile, or in the bushes, or behind the tall laurel screen.

Seeing nobody, he came along, supporting himself on his crutch. He walked
without the least sound of his feet or of the crutch, which probably had
a rubber shoe at the end of it. His raised righ