"What? Don't you know me? What's the good of making appointments with people? You strain every nerve to be punctual, and then they ask you who you are! Come, Weber, confess that you're doing it to annoy me. Must you gaze on my features in broad daylight? Here goes!"
He raised his mask.
"Arsène Lupin!" spluttered the detective.
"At your service, young fellow: on foot, in the saddle, and in mid air.
That's where I'm going now. Good-bye."
And so great was Weber's astonishment at seeing Arsène Lupin, whom he had taken to the lockup twelve hours before, standing in front of him, free, at two hundred and forty miles from Paris, that Don Luis, as he went back to Davanne, thought:
"What a crusher! I've knocked him out in one round. There's no hurry. The referee will count ten at least three times before Weber can say 'Mother!'"
* * * * *
Davanne was ready. Don Luis climbed into the monoplane. The peasants pushed at the wheels. The machine started.
"North-northeast," Don Luis ordered. "Ninety miles an hour. Ten thousand francs."
"We've the wind against us," said Davanne.