And the Englishman, resorting to irony in his turn, said, with that supercilious politeness with which his adversary had so often lashed him:
"M. Lupin, believe me, from this minute I shall cease to remember the night you made me spend in Baron d'Hautrec's house, cease to remember my friend Wilson's mishaps, cease to remember how I was kidnapped by motor-car, cease to remember the sea-voyage which I have just taken, fastened down, by your orders, to an uncomfortable berth. This minute wipes out all. I forget everything. I am rewarded, amply rewarded."
Lupin did not speak. The Englishman added:
"Don't you think so yourself?"
He appeared to be insisting, as though demanding an assent, a sort of receipt with regard to the past.
After a moment's reflection, during which the Englishman felt himself searched and fathomed to the very bottom of his soul, Lupin said:
"I presume, sir, that your present action rests upon serious motives?"
"Extremely serious motives."
"The fact of your escaping from my captain and his crew is only a secondary incident in our struggle. But the fact of your being here, before me, alone, do you understand, alone in the presence of Arsène Lupin, makes me believe that your revenge is as complete as possible."
"It is as complete as possible."