“I accept,” he said.
“Here’s the address of my shed: 99, Rue Charles-Lafitte, Neuilly. You have only to ring the bell.”
“And suppose I send Prasville, the secretary-general, instead?”
“If you send Prasville,” Lupin declared, “the place is so arranged that I shall see him coming and that I shall have time to escape, after setting fire to the trusses of hay and straw which surround and conceal your credence-tables, clocks and Gothic virgins.”
“But your shed will be burnt down....”
“I don’t mind that: the police have their eye on it already. I am leaving it in any case.”
“And how am I to know that this is not a trap?”
“Begin by receiving the goods and don’t give up the child till afterward. I trust you, you see.”
“Good,” said Daubrecq; “you’ve foreseen everything. Very well, you shall have the nipper; the fair Clarisse shall live; and we will all be happy. And now, if I may give you a word of advice, it is to pack off as fast as you can.”
“Not yet.”