“That is he, all right,” said Ganimard.
“Ah!” said the concierge, “there is the girl now.”
Mademoiselle had just emerged from the house and was walking toward her carriage in the Place Saint-Ferdinand.
“And there is Monsieur Bresson.”
“Monsieur Bresson? Which is he?”
“The man with the parcel under his arm.”
“But he is not looking after the girl. She is going to her carriage alone.”
“Yes, I have never seen them together.”
The two detectives had arisen. By the light of the street-lamps they recognized the form of Arsène Lupin, who had started off in a direction opposite to that taken by the girl.
“Which will you follow?” asked Ganimard.