"You said it," this last replied with brevity.
"It was a good bluff while it lasted, Monsieur Lanyard," Monk added; "but it couldn't last forever. You can't get away with it. Why not give in gracefully, admit you're licked for once, be a good fellow?"
"My God!" Lanyard pronounced in comic despair--"it passes understanding! It is true, then--and true especially of such as you are to-day, as I was in my yesterday--that 'Whom Fortune wishes to destroy she first makes mad'! For, I give you my word of honour, you seem to me quite mad, messieurs, too mad to be allowed at large. And in proof of my sincerity, I propose that you shall not longer remain at large."
"What's that?" Monk demanded, startled.
"Why, you have not hesitated to threaten me with the police. So now I, in my turn, have the honour to inform you that, anticipating this call, I have had relays of detectives waiting in this hotel day and night, with instructions to guard the doors as soon as you were shown up to my rooms. Be advised, Mr. Phinuit, and forget your pistol. Even to show it in this city would make matters infinitely worse for you than they are."
"He's lying," Monk insisted, putting a restraining hand on Phinuit's arm as that one started from his chair in rage and panic. "He wouldn't dare."
"Would I not? Then, since you believe nothing till it is proved to you, messieurs, permit me..."
Lanyard crossed rapidly to the hall door and flung it open--and fell back a pace with a cry of amazement.
At the threshold stood, not the detective whom he had expected to see, but a woman with a cable message form in one hand, the other lifted to knock.
"Madame!" Lanyard gasped--"Madame de Montalais!"