“Yes, I can,” said Lupin; “and I’m going to prove it to you.”
He began by handing Raymonde in. Then he came back to fetch Beautrelet. The lad hesitated.
“Are you afraid?” asked Lupin.
“What of?”
“Of being sunk by the torpedo-boat.”
“No.”
“Then you’re considering whether it’s not your duty to stay with Ganimard, law and order, society and morality, instead of going off with Lupin, shame, infamy and disgrace.”
“Exactly.”
“Unfortunately, my boy, you have no choice. For the moment, they must believe the two of us dead—and leave me the peace to which a prospective honest man is entitled. Later on, when I have given you your liberty, you can talk as much as you please—I shall have nothing more to fear.”
By the way in which Lupin clutched his arm, Beautrelet felt that all resistance was useless. Besides, why resist? Had he not discovered and handed over the Hollow Needle? What did he care about the rest? Had he not the right to humor the irresistible sympathy with which, in spite of everything, this man inspired him?