“You know them?” said Lupin with a smile, rising. “It’s fatality!”
He stood before Guerchard, twisting his hands and wrists curiously. Half a dozen swift movements; and he held out his handcuffs in one hand and threw them on the floor.
“Did you know that trick, Guerchard? One of these days I shall teach you to invite me to lunch,” he said slowly, in a mocking tone; and he gazed at the detective with menacing, dangerous eyes.
“Come, come, we’ve had enough of this!” cried Guerchard, in mingled astonishment, anger, and alarm. “Bonavent! Boursin! Dieusy! Here! Help! Help!” he shouted.
“Now listen, Guerchard, and understand that I’m not humbugging,” said Lupin quickly, in clear, compelling tones. “If Sonia, just now, had had one word, one gesture of contempt for me, I’d have given way—yielded ... half-yielded, at any rate; for, rather than fall into your triumphant clutches, I’d have blown my brains out. I’ve now to choose between happiness, life with Sonia, or prison. Well, I’ve chosen. I will live happy with her, or else, my dear Guerchard, I’ll die with you. Now let your men come—I’m ready for them.”
Guerchard ran to the door and shouted again.
“I think the fat’s in the fire now,” said Lupin, laughing.
He sprang to the table, opened the cardboard box, whipped off the top layer of cotton-wool, and took out a shining bomb.
He sprang to the wall, pressed the button, the bookshelf glided slowly to one side, the lift rose to the level of the floor and its doors flew open just as the detectives rushed in.
“Collar him!” yelled Guerchard.