And so it was natural that they should turn once more to Isidore Beautrelet, as he alone had succeeded in dispelling shadows which, in his absence, gathered thicker and more impenetrable than ever. Why did he not go on with the case? Seeing how far he had carried it, he required but an effort to succeed.
The question was put to him by a member of the staff of the Grand Journal, who had obtained admission to the Lycée Janson by assuming the name of Bernod, the friend of Beautrelet’s father. And Isidore very sensibly replied:
“My dear sir, there are other things besides Lupin in this world, other things besides stories about burglars and detectives. There is, for instance, the thing which is known as taking one’s degree. Now I am going up for my examination in July. This is May. And I don’t want to be plucked. What would my worthy parent say?”
“But what would he say if you delivered Arsène Lupin into the hands of the police?”
“Tut! There’s a time for everything. In the next holidays—”
“Whitsuntide?”
“Yes—I shall go down on Saturday the sixth of June by the first train.”
“And, on the evening of that Saturday, Lupin will be taken.”
“Will you give me until the Sunday?” asked Beautrelet, laughing.
“Why delay?” replied the journalist, quite seriously.