Vorski gave a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders.
"Yes, I know," said Don Luis. "You're pinning your faith to your last card. Still, I would have you know that I also hold a few trumps and that I have a rather artistic way of playing them. The tree behind you should be more than enough to tell you so. Would you like another instance? While you're getting muddled with all your murders and are no longer sure of the number of your victims, I bring them to life again. Look at that man coming from the Priory. Do you see him? He's wearing a blue reefer with brass buttons, like myself. He's one of your dead men, isn't he? You locked him up in one of the torture-chambers, intending to cast him into the sea; and it was your sweet cherub of a Raynold who hurled him down before Véronique's eyes. Do you remember? Stéphane Maroux his name was. He's dead, isn't he? No, not a bit of it! A wave of my magic wand; and he's alive again. Here he is. I take him by the hand. I speak to him."
Going up to the newcomer, he shook hands with him and said:
"You see, Stéphane? I told you that it would be all over at twelve o'clock precisely and that we should meet at the dolmen. Well, it is twelve o'clock precisely."
Stéphane seemed in excellent health. He showed not a sign of a wound. Vorski looked at him in dismay and stammered:
"The tutor . . . . Stéphane Maroux . . . ."
"The man himself," said Don Luis. "What did you expect? Here again you behaved like an idiot. The adorable Raynold and you throw a man into the sea and don't even think of leaning over to see what becomes of him. I pick him up . . . . And don't be too badly staggered, old chap. It's only the beginning; and I have a few more tricks in my bag. Remember, I'm a pupil of the ancient Druid's! . . . Well, Stéphane, where do we stand? What's the result of your search?"
"Nothing."
"François?"
"Not to be found."