“It’s the lapping of the water,” said Lupin.
“No, indeed it’s not. I know the sound of the waves. This is something different.”
“What would you have it be, darling?” said Lupin, smiling. “I invited no one to lunch except Beautrelet.” And, addressing the servant, “Charolais, did you lock the staircase doors behind the gentleman?”
“Yes, sir, and fastened the bolts.”
Lupin rose:
“Come, Raymonde, don’t shake like that. Why, you’re quite pale!”
He spoke a few words to her in an undertone, as also to the servant, drew back the curtain and sent them both out of the room.
The noise below grew more distinct. It was a series of dull blows, repeated at intervals. Beautrelet thought:
“Ganimard has lost patience and is breaking down the doors.”
Lupin resumed the thread of his conversation, speaking very calmly and as though he had really not heard: