“It’s here,” he reflected, as he took a seat, “it’s here that the crystal stopper lives.... Unless Daubrecq always keeps it by him.... But no, when people have a good hiding-place, they make use of it. And this is a capital one; for none of us . . . so far....”
Concentrating all his attention, he examined the objects in the room; and he remembered the note which Daubrecq wrote to Prasville:
“Within reach of your hand, my dear Prasville!... You touched it! A little more and the trick was done....”
Nothing seemed to have moved since that day. The same things were lying about on the desk: books, account-books, a bottle of ink, a stamp-box, pipes, tobacco, things that had been searched and probed over and over again.
“The bounder!” thought Lupin. “He’s organized his business jolly cleverly. It’s all dove-tailed like a well-made play.”
In his heart of hearts, though he knew exactly what he had come to do and how he meant to act, Lupin was thoroughly aware of the danger and uncertainty attending his visit to so powerful an adversary. It was quite within the bounds of possibility that Daubrecq, armed as he was, would remain master of the field and that the conversation would take an absolutely different turn from that which Lupin anticipated.
And this prospect angered him somewhat.
He drew himself up, as he heard a sound of footsteps approaching.
Daubrecq entered.
He entered without a word, made a sign to Lupin, who had risen from his chair, to resume his seat and himself sat down at the writing-desk. Glancing at the card which he held in his hand: