Sernine, who had retained his smiling calmness, replied:
"The suggestion is a pretty one and a bold one. But, before I answer, tell your men to stop worrying me with those toys of theirs."
"Very well," said M. Weber, making a sign to his men. "And now answer."
"What?"
"Are you M. Lenormand?"
"Yes."
Exclamations arose. Jean Doudeville, who was there, while his brother was watching the secret outlet, Jean Doudeville, Sernine's own accomplice, looked at him in dismay. M. Weber stood undecided.
"That takes your breath away, eh?" said Sernine. "I admit that it's rather droll. . . . Lord, how you used to make me laugh sometimes, when we were working together, you and I, the chief and the deputy-chief! . . . And the funniest thing is that you thought our worthy M. Lenormand dead . . . as well as poor Gourel. But no, no, old chap: there's life in the old dog yet!" He pointed to Altenheim's corpse. "There, it was that scoundrel who pitched me into the water, in a sack, with a paving-stone round my waist. Only, he forgot to take away my knife. And with a knife one rips open sacks and cuts ropes. So you see, you unfortunate Altenheim: if you had thought of that, you wouldn't be where you are! . . . But enough said. . . . Peace to your ashes!"
M. Weber listened, not knowing what to think. At last, he made a gesture of despair, as though he gave up the idea of forming a reasonable opinion.
"The handcuffs," he said, suddenly alarmed.