He had already left the room. An idea had occurred to him. Suppose Altenheim were not at the Villa des Glycines? Suppose the hour of the meeting had been changed!
"I must see him," he said to himself. "I must, at all costs."
And he ran along with a disordered air, indifferent to everything. But, in front of the lodge, he at once recovered his composure: he had caught sight of the deputy-chief of the detective-service talking to the brothers Doudeville in the garden.
Had he commanded his usual acute discernment, he would have perceived the little start which M. Weber gave as he approached; but he saw nothing:
"M. Weber, I believe?" he asked.
"Yes. . . . To whom have I the honor . . . ?"
"Prince Sernine."
"Ah, very good! Monsieur le Préfet de Police has told me of the great service which you are doing us, monsieur."
"That service will not be complete until I have handed the ruffians over to you."
"That won't take long. I believe that one of those ruffians has just gone in; a powerful-looking man, with a swarthy complexion. . . ."