"And here's my hand," retorted Arsène, hurling his fist at the Englishman.
Shears had fired at the ceiling, to summon Ganimard, the need for whose intervention now seemed urgent. But Arsène's fist caught him full in the wind and he turned pale and staggered back. Lupin gave one bound toward the chimney and the marble slab moved.... Too late! The door opened.
"Surrender, Lupin! If not...."
Ganimard, who had doubtless been posted nearer than Lupin thought, stood there, with his revolver aimed at him. And, behind Ganimard, ten men, twenty men crowded upon one another's heels, powerful, ruthless fellows, prepared to beat Lupin down like a dog at the least sign of resistance.
He made a quiet gesture:
"Hands off there! I surrender."
And he crossed his arms over his chest.
A sort of stupor followed. In the room stripped of its furniture and hangings, Arsène Lupin's words seemed drawn-out like an echo:
"I surrender!"