“I do. As a detective, I believe, he has never had an equal. But I have one advantage over him; he is making the attack and I am simply defending myself. My rôle is the easier one. Besides, I am familiar with his method of warfare, and he does not know mine. I am prepared to show him a few new tricks that will give him something to think about.”
He tapped the table with his fingers as he uttered the following sentences, with an air of keen delight:
“Arsène Lupin against Herlock Sholmes.... France against England.... Trafalgar will be revenged at last.... Ah! the rascal ... he doesn’t suspect that I am prepared ... and a Lupin warned—”
He stopped suddenly, seized with a fit of coughing, and hid his face in his napkin, as if something had stuck in his throat.
“A bit of bread?” I inquired. “Drink some water.”
“No, it isn’t that,” he replied, in a stifled voice.
“Then, what is it?”
“The want of air.”
“Do you wish a window opened?”
“No, I shall go out. Give me my hat and overcoat, quick! I must go.”