“Stop that noise, Ganimard, will you? I haven’t finished my speech!”
The blows came faster. It was like the sound of a beam that was being hurled against the door. Beautrelet, mad with curiosity, stood in front of Lupin and awaited events, without understanding what Lupin was doing or contemplating. To give up the Needle was all very well; but why was he giving up himself? What was his plan? Did he hope to escape from Ganimard? And, on the other hand, where was Raymonde?
Lupin, meantime, was murmuring, dreamily:
“An honest man.—Arsène Lupin an honest man—no more robbery—leading the life of everybody else.—And why not? There is no reason why I should not meet with the same success.—But do stop that now, Ganimard! Don’t you know, you ass, that I’m uttering historic words and that Beautrelet is taking them in for the benefit of posterity?” He laughed. “I am wasting my time. Ganimard will never grasp the use of my historic words.”
He took a piece of red chalk, put a pair of steps to the wall and wrote, in large letters:
Arsène Lupin gives and bequeaths to France all the treasures contained in the Hollow Needle, on the sole condition that these treasures be housed at the Musée du Louvre in rooms which shall be known as the Arsène Lupin Rooms.
“Now,” he said, “my conscience is at ease. France and I are quits.”
The attackers were striking with all their might. One of the panels burst in two. A hand was put through and fumbled for the lock.
“Thunder!” said Lupin. “That idiot of a Ganimard is capable of effecting his purpose for once in his life.”
He rushed to the lock and removed the key.