"Would you be satisfied if you got him, Monsieur le Président?"
"Would I be satisfied? Heavens alive, I should think I would!"
"Well, give me seven days."
"Seven days! Why, it's not a question of days, my dear Lenormand! It's a question of hours!"
"How many will you give me, Monsieur le Président?"
Valenglay took out his watch and chuckled:
"I will give you ten minutes, my dear Lenormand!"
The chief took out his, and emphasizing each syllable, said calmly:
"That is four minutes more than I want, Monsieur le Président."
Valenglay looked at him in amazement.
"Four minutes more than you want? What do you mean by that?"
"I mean, Monsieur le Président, that the ten minutes which you allow me are superfluous. I want six, and not one minute more."
"Oh, but look here, Lenormand.. if you imagine that this is the time for joking."
The chief detective went to the window and beckoned to two men who were walking round the courtyard.
Then he returned:
"Mr. Attorney-General, would you have the kindness to sign a warrant for the arrest of Auguste Maximin Philippe Daileron, aged forty-seven? You might leave the profession open."
He went to the door:
"Come in, Gourel. You, too, Dieuzy."
Gourel entered, accompanied by Inspector Dieuzy.
"Have you the handcuffs, Gourel?"
"Yes, chief."
M. Lenormand went up to Valenglay:
"Monsieur le Président, everything is ready. But I entreat you most urgently to forego this arrest. It upsets all my plans; it may render them abortive; and, for the sake of what, after all, is a very trifling satisfaction, it exposes us to the risk of jeopardizing the whole business."
"M. Lenormand, let me remark that you have only eighty seconds left."
The chief suppressed a gesture of annoyance, strode across the room and, leaning on his stick, sat down angrily, as though he had decided not to speak. Then, suddenly making up his mind:
"Monsieur le Président, the first person who enters this room will be the man whose arrest you asked for.. against my wish, as I insist on pointing out to you."
"Fifteen seconds, Lenormand!"
"Gourel.. Dieuzy.. the first person, do you understand?.. Mr. Attorney, have you signed the warrant?"
"Ten seconds, Lenormand!"
"Monsieur le Président, would you be so good as to ring the bell?"
Valenglay rang.
The messenger appeared in the doorway and waited.
Valenglay turned to the chief:
"Well, Lenormand, he's waiting for your orders. Whom is he to show in?"
"No one."
"But the rogue whose arrest you promised us? The six minutes are more than past."
"Yes, but the rogue is here!"
"Here? I don't understand. No one has entered the room!"
"I beg your pardon."
"Oh, I say… Look here, Lenormand, you're making fun of us. I tell you again that no one has entered the room."
"There were six of us in this room, Monsieur le Président; there are seven now. Consequently, some one has entered the room."
Valenglay started:
"Eh! But this is madness!.. What! You mean to say."
The two detectives had slipped between the messenger and the door. M. Lenormand walked up to the messenger, clapped his hand on his shoulder and, in a loud voice:
"In the name of the law, Auguste Maximin Philippe Daileron, chief messenger at the Ministry of the Interior, I arrest you."
Valenglay burst out laughing.
"Oh, what a joke! What a joke! That infernal Lenormand! Of all the first-rate notions! Well done, Lenormand! It's long since I enjoyed so good a laugh."
M. Lenormand turned to the attorney-general:
"Mr. Attorney, you won't forget to fill in Master Daileron's profession on the warrant, will you? Chief messenger at the Ministry of the Interior."
"Oh, good!.. Oh, capital!.. Chief messenger at the Ministry of the Interior!" spluttered Valenglay, holding his sides. "Oh, this wonderful Lenormand gets hold of ideas that would never occur to anybody else! The public is clamoring for an arrest… Whoosh, he flings at its head my chief messenger.. Auguste.. the model servant! Well, Lenormand, my dear fellow, I knew you had a certain gift of imagination, but I never suspected that it would go so far as this! The impertinence of it!"
From the commencement of this scene, Auguste had not stirred a limb and seemed to understand nothing of what was going on around him. His face, the typical face of a good, loyal, faithful serving-man, seemed absolutely bewildered. He looked at the gentlemen turn and turn about, with a visible effort to catch the meaning of their words.
M. Lenormand said a few words to Gourel, who went out. Then, going up to Auguste and speaking with great decision, he said:
"There's no way out of it. You're caught. The best thing to do, when the game is lost, is to throw down your cards. What were you doing on Tuesday?"
"I? Nothing. I was here."
"You lie. You were off duty. You went out for the day."
"Oh, yes.. I remember.. I had a friend to see me from the country… We went for a walk in the Bois."
"Your friend's name was Marco. And you went for a walk in the cellars of the Crédit Lyonnais."
"I? What an idea!.. Marco!.. I don't know any one by that name."
"And these? Do you know these?" cried the chief, thrusting a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles under his nose.
"No.. certainly not… I don't wear spectacles.."
"Yes, you do; you wear them when you go to the Crédit Lyonnais and when you pass yourself off as Mr. Kesselbach. These come from your room, the room which you occupy, under the name of M. Jérôme, at No. 50 Rue du Colisee."
"My room? My room? I sleep here, at the office."
"But you change your clothes over there, to play your parts in Lupin's gang."
A blow in the chest made him stagger back. Auguste reached the window at a bound, climbed over the balcony and jumped into the courtyard.
"Dash it all!" shouted Valenglay. "The scoundrel!"
He rang the bell, ran to the window, wanted to call out. M. Lenormand, with the greatest calm, said:
"Don't excite yourself, Monsieur le Président."
"But that blackguard of an Auguste."
"One second, please… I foresaw this ending.. in fact, I allowed for it… It's the best confession we could have.."
Yielding in the presence of this coolness, Valenglay resumed his seat. In a moment, Gourel entered, with his hand on the collar of Master Auguste Maximin Philippe Daileron, alias Jérôme, chief messenger at the Ministry of the Interior.
"Bring him, Gourel!" said M. Lenormand, as who should say, "Fetch it! Bring it!" to a good retriever carrying the game in its jaws. "Did he come quietly?"
"He bit me a little, but I