“The headquarters of police, isn’t it? The secretary-general’s office....”
“Yes, doctor.... How do you know?”
“Oh, as a divisional surgeon, I sometimes have to ring them up.”
And, within himself, Lupin asked:
“What the devil does all this mean? The secretary-general is Prasville.... Then, what?...”
Daubrecq put both receivers to his ears and said:
“Are you 822.19? I want to speak to M. Prasville, the secretary-general.... Do you say he’s not there?... Yes, yes, he is: he’s always in his office at this time.... Tell him it’s M. Daubrecq.... M. Daubrecq the deputy . . . a most important communication.”
“Perhaps I’m in the way?” Lupin suggested.
“Not at all, doctor, not at all,” said Daubrecq. “Besides, what I have to say has a certain bearing on your errand.” And, into the telephone, “Hullo! M. Prasville?... Ah, it’s you, Prasville, old cock!... Why, you seem quite staggered! Yes, you’re right, it’s an age since you and I met. But, after all, we’ve never been far away in thought.... And I’ve had plenty of visits from you and your henchmen.... In my absence, it’s true. Hullo!.... What?... Oh, you’re in a hurry? I beg your pardon!... So am I, for that matter.... Well, to come to the point, there’s a little service I want to do you.... Wait, can’t you, you brute?... You won’t regret it.... It concerns your renown.... Hullo!... Are you listening?... Well, take half-a-dozen men with you . . . plain-clothes detectives, by preference: you’ll find them at the night-office.... Jump into a taxi, two taxis, and come along here as fast as you can.... I’ve got a rare quarry for you, old chap. One of the upper ten . . . a lord, a marquis Napoleon himself . . . in a word, Arsène Lupin!”
