“Ganimard ... the elevator ... they are breaking my bones.”
“A good idea, an excellent idea,” replied Ganimard. “Besides, the stairway is too narrow.”
He summoned the elevator. They placed Lupin on the seat with the greatest care. Ganimard took his place beside him and said to his men:
“Go down the stairs and wait for me below. Understand?”
Ganimard closed the door of the elevator. Suddenly the elevator shot upward like a balloon released from its cable. Lupin burst into a fit of sardonic laughter.
“Good God!” cried Ganimard, as he made a frantic search in the dark for the button of descent. Having found it, he cried:
“The fifth floor! Watch the door of the fifth floor.”
His assistants clambered up the stairs, two and three steps at a time. But this strange circumstance happened: The elevator seemed to break through the ceiling of the last floor, disappeared from the sight of Ganimard’s assistants, suddenly made its appearance on the upper floor—the servants’ floor—and stopped. Three men were there waiting for it. They opened the door. Two of them seized Ganimard, who, astonished at the sudden attack, scarcely made any defence. The other man carried off Lupin.
“I warned you, Ganimard ... about the dirigible balloon. Another time, don’t be so tender-hearted. And, moreover, remember that Arsène Lupin doesn’t allow himself to be struck and knocked down without sufficient reason. Adieu.”
The door of the elevator was already closed on Ganimard, and the machine began to descend; and it all happened so quickly that the old detective reached the ground floor as soon as his assistants. Without exchanging a word they crossed the court and ascended the servants’ stairway, which was the only way to reach the servants’ floor through which the escape had been made.