t was as though both of them feared to engage in the supreme struggle,
as though both were collecting all their strength. And there were no
words wasted this time, no insults, no bantering challenges. Silence, a
deathlike silence.

Mad with anguish, Raymonde awaited the issue of the duel. Beautrelet
had caught her arms and was holding her motionless.

After a second, Lupin repeated:

"Order your men to leave that woman alone."

"No."

Lupin said:

"Listen, Shears--"

But he interrupted himself, realizing the silliness of the words. In
the face of that colossus of pride and will-power which called itself
Holmlock Shears, of what use were threats?

Resolved upon the worst, suddenly he put his hand to his jacket pocket.
The Englishman anticipated his movement and, leaping upon his prisoner,
thrust the barrel of his revolver within two inches of her temple:

"If you stir a limb, I fire!"

At the same time his two satellites drew their weapons and aimed them
at Lupin.

Lupin drew himself up, stifled the rage within him and, coolly, with
his hands in his pockets and his breast exposed to the enemy, began
once more:

"Shears, for the third time, let that woman be--"

The Englishman sneered:

"I have no right to touch her, I suppose? Come, come, enough of this
humbug! Your name isn't Valmeras any more than it's Lupin: you stole
the name just as you stole the name of Charmerace. And the woman whom
you pass off as your mother is Victoire, your old accomplice, the one
who brought you up--"[12]

[12] Arsene Lupin, play in four acts, by Maurice Leblanc and
Francis de Croisset.

Shears made a mistake. Carried away by his longing for revenge, he
glanced across at Raymonde, whom these revelations filled with horror.
Lupin took advantage of his imprudence. With a sudden movement, he
fired.

"Damnation!" bellowed Shears, whose arm, pierced by a bullet, fell to
his side. And, addressing his men, "Shoot, you two! Shoot him down!"

But already Lupin was upon them: and not two seconds had elapsed before
the one on the right was sprawling on the ground, with his chest
smashed, while the other, with his jaw broken, fell back against the
gate.

"Hurry up, Victoire. Tie them down. And now, Mr. Englishman, it's you
and I."

He ducked with an oath:

"Ah, you scoundrel!"

Shears had picked up his revolver with his left hand and was taking aim
at him.

A shot--a cry of distress--Raymonde had flung herself betwee