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 held tight," replied the sergeant, showing his huge, sinewy hand.
"Very well, Gourel. And now take this chap off to the Dépôt in a cab. Good-bye for the present, M. Jérôme."
Valenglay was immensely amused. He rubbed his hands and laughed. The idea that his chief messenger was one of Lupin's accomplices struck him as a most delightfully ludicrous thing.
"Well done, my dear Lenormand; this is wonderful! But how on earth did you manage it?"