“This time I have got you, rascal!” said the chief of the Safety Department.
“Ah, ha!” replied Jacques Collin ironically.
It flashed through his mind that Monsieur de Granville had sent some one to watch him, and, strange to say, it pained him to think the magistrate less magnanimous than he had supposed.
Bibi-Lupin bravely flew at Jacques Collin’s throat; but he, keeping his eye on the foe, gave him a straight blow, and sent him sprawling on his back three yards off; then Trompe-la-Mort went calmly up to Bibi-Lupin, and held out a hand to help him rise, exactly like an English boxer who, sure of his superiority, is ready for more. Bibi-Lupin knew better than to call out; but he sprang to his feet, ran to the entrance to the passage, and signed to a gendarme to stand on guard. Then, swift as lightning, he came back to the foe, who quietly looked on. Jacques Collin had decided what to do.
“Either the public prosecutor has broken his word, or he had not taken Bibi-Lupin into his confidence, and in that case I must get the matter explained,” thought he.—“Do you mean to arrest me?” he asked his enemy. “Say so without more ado. Don’t I know that in the heart of this place you are stronger than I am? I could kill you with a well-placed kick, but I could not tackle the gendarmes and the soldiers. Now, make no noise. Where to you want to take me?”
“To Monsieur Camusot.”
“Come along to Monsieur Camusot,” replied Jacques Collin. “Why should we not go to the public prosecutor’s court? It is nearer,” he added.
Bibi-Lupin, who knew that he was out of favor with the upper ranks of judicial authorities, and suspected of having made a fortune at the expense of criminals and their victims, was not unwilling to show himself in Court with so notable a capture.
“All right, we will go there,” said he. “But as you surrender, allow me to fit you with bracelets. I am afraid of your claws.”
And he took the handcuffs out of his pocket.