Dalbrèque had finished his preparations. Just as he was mounting his bicycle, the detectives rose in a body, ready to make a dash for him. But Dalbrèque, though quite unconscious of their presence, changed his mind and went back to his room as though he had forgotten something.
"Now's the time!" said Rénine. "I'm going to risk it. But it's a difficult situation and I've no great hopes."
He went out into the yard and, at a moment when the detectives were not looking, ran up the staircase, as was only natural if he wished to give an order to his chauffeur. But he had no sooner reached the rustic balcony at the back of the house, which gave admission to the two bedrooms than he stopped. Dalbrèque's door was open. Rénine walked in.
Dalbrèque stepped back, at once assuming the defensive:
"What do you want? Who said you could...."
"Silence!" whispered Rénine, with an imperious gesture. "It's all up with you!"
"What are you talking about?" growled the man, angrily.
"Lean out of your window. There are four men below on the watch for you to leave, four detectives."
Dalbrèque leant over the terrace and muttered an oath:
"On the watch for me?" he said, turning round. "What do I care?"