“He has eaten?”
“Yes,” replied the guard.
“Dieuzy, please cut that macaroni into very small pieces, and open that bread-roll....Nothing?”
“No, chief.”
Mon. Dudouis examined the plates, the fork, the spoon, and the knife—an ordinary knife with a rounded blade. He turned the handle to the left; then to the right. It yielded and unscrewed. The knife was hollow, and served as a hiding-place for a sheet of paper.
“Peuh!” he said, “that is not very clever for a man like Arsène. But we mustn’t lose any time. You, Dieuzy, go and search the restaurant.”
Then he read the note:
“I trust to you, H-P will follow at a distance every day. I will go ahead. Au revoir, dear friend.”
“At last,” cried Mon. Dudouis, rubbing his hands gleefully, “I think we have the affair in our own hands. A little strategy on our part, and the escape will be a success in so far as the arrest of his confederates are concerned.”
“But if Arsène Lupin slips through your fingers?” suggested the guard.