“Will you forgive me, madame? The accidents of life—of mine especially—often drive one to acts of cruelty for which I am the first to blush. But have no fear for your son: it’s a mere prick, a little puncture in the arm which I gave him while we were questioning him. In an hour, at the most, you won’t know that it happened. Once more, all my apologies. But I had to make sure of your silence.” He bowed again, thanked M. de Vélines for his kind hospitality, took his cane, lit a cigarette, offered one to the baron, gave a circular sweep with his hat and, in a patronizing tone, said to Beautrelet:
“Good-bye, baby.”
And he walked away quietly, puffing the smoke of his cigarette into the servants’ faces.
Beautrelet waited for a few minutes. Mme. de Villemon, now calmer, was watching by her son. He went up to her, with the intention of making one last appeal to her. Their eyes met. He said nothing. He had understood that she would never speak now, whatever happened. There, once more, in that mother’s brain, the secret of the Hollow Needle lay buried as deeply as in the night of the past.
Then he gave up and went away.
It was half-past ten. There was a train at eleven-fifty. He slowly followed the avenue in the park and turned into the road that led to the station.
“Well, what do you say to that?”
It was Massiban, or rather Lupin, who appeared out of the wood adjoining the road.
“Was it pretty well contrived, or was it not? Is your old friend great on the tight-rope, or is he not? I’m sure that you haven’t got over it, eh, and that you’re asking yourself whether the so-called Massiban, member of the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres, ever existed. But, of course, he exists. I’ll even show him to you, if you’re good. But, first, let me give you back your revolver. You’re looking to see if it’s loaded? Certainly, my lad. There are five charges left, one of which would be enough to send me ad patres.—Well, so you’re putting it in your pocket? Quite right. I prefer that to what you did up there.—A nasty little impulse, that, of yours!—Still, you’re young, you suddenly see—in a flash!—that you’ve once more been done by that confounded Lupin and that he is standing there in front of you, at three steps from you—and bang! You fire!—I’m not angry with you, bless your little heart! To prove it, I offer you a seat in my 100 h.p. car. Will that suit you?”
He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled.