“Did you see the police in charge of it? The coachman?”
“Yes, sir,” said Bonavent.
“Did you recognize them?” said Guerchard.
“No,” said Bonavent; “they must have been new men. They told me they came from the Santé.”
“You silly fool!” said Guerchard through his teeth. “A fine lot of sense you’ve got.”
“Why, what’s the matter?” said Bonavent.
“We’re done, done in the eye!” roared Guerchard. “It’s a stroke—a stroke—”
“Of Lupin’s!” interposed the Duke softly.
“But I don’t understand,” said Bonavent.
“You don’t understand, you idiot!” cried Guerchard. “You’ve sent Victoire away in a sham prison-van—a prison-van belonging to Lupin. Oh, that scoundrel! He always has something up his sleeve.”