There is not
the least danger."

Would she speak? He thought so, he hoped so. She stammered out a few
syllables. But the door opened again. This time, the nurse entered. She
seemed distraught:

"M. Georges--madame--M. Georges--!"

Suddenly, the mother recovered all her strength. Quicker than any of
them, and urged by an unfailing instinct, she rushed down the
staircase, across the hall and on to the terrace. There lay little
Georges, motionless, on a wicker chair.

"Well, what is it? He's asleep!--"

"He fell asleep suddenly, madame," said the nurse. "I tried to prevent
him, to carry him to his room. But he was fast asleep and his
hands--his hands were cold."

"Cold!" gasped the mother. "Yes--it's true. Oh dear, oh dear--IF HE
ONLY WAKES UP!"

Beautrelet put his hand in his trousers pocket, seized the butt of his
revolver, cocked it with his forefinger, then suddenly produced the
weapon and fired at Massiban.

Massiban, as though he were watching the boy's movements, had avoided
the shot, so to speak, in advance. But already Beautrelet had sprung
upon him, shouting to the servants:

"Help! It's Lupin!"

Massiban, under the weight of the impact, fell back into one of the
wicker chairs. In a few seconds, he rose, leaving Beautrelet stunned,
choking; and, holding the young man's revolver in his hands:

"Good!--that's all right!--don't stir--you'll be like that for two or
three minutes--no more. But, upon my word, you took your time to
recognize me! Was my make-up as old Massiban so good as all that?"

He was now standing straight up on his legs, his body squared, in a
formidable attitude, and he grinned as he looked at the three petrified
footmen and the dumbfounded baron:

"Isidore, you've missed the chance of a lifetime. If you hadn't told
them I was Lupin, they'd have jumped on me. And, with fellows like
that, what would have become of me, by Jove, with four to one against
me?"

He walked up to them:

"Come, my lads, don't be afraid--I shan't hurt you. Wouldn't you like a
sugar-stick apiece to screw your courage up? Oh, you, by the way, hand
me back my hundred-franc note, will you? Yes, yes, I know you! You're
the one I bribed just now to give the letter to your mistress. Come
hurry, you faithless servant."

He took the blue bank-note which the servant handed him and tore it
into tiny shreds:

"The price of treachery! It burns my fingers."

He took off his hat and, bowing very low before Mme. d