"Yes, M. Lupin?"
Lupin seemed completely crushed by this last blow. His forehead was wrinkled; he was worn-out and gloomy. Yet he drew himself up, with a revival of energy; and, in spite of all, exclaimed, in a voice of glad unconcern:
"You must admit that fate is dead against me. Just now, it prevented me from escaping by the chimney and delivered me into your hands. This moment, it has made use of the telephone to make you a present of the blonde lady. I bow before its decrees."
"Meaning...?"
"Meaning that I am prepared to reopen negotiations."
Shears took the inspector aside and begged permission, but in a tone that allowed of no refusal, to exchange a few words with Lupin. Then he walked across to him. The momentous conversation took place. It opened in short, nervous phrases:
"What do you want?"
"Mlle. Destange's liberty."
"You know the price?"
"Yes."