"In the name of the law! Open! Open! Open!... The police!"
A bare three minutes had elapsed between Juve's first summons and the opening of the library door.
Vagualame had made profitable use of the three minutes.
"Don't utter a sound! Don't be afraid!" Vagualame had repeated to Bobinette: "They will not take us this time!"
Hustled, dragged to the spot already described, Bobinette now felt the ground giving way beneath her. She rolled on to a steeply inclined plane. Gliding down into the void, clutching Vagualame, she heard a dull sound: it was the trap falling to.
"Quiet!" repeated Vagualame, as Bobinette rolled on to the wood flooring of a sort of cellar piled high with books. He signed to the girl to listen.
"Yes! They are searching the shop, knocking the books about, imagining we are hidden among them!... But, from what I know of Juve, in a very short time he will have ferreted out the trap door and will descend as we have done. He will never be such a fool as to think we have gone down the shop stairs."
"Oh!" groaned Bobinette: "Whatever shall we do?"
Vagualame calmly turned on his pocket electric torch, approached an immense pile of illustrated magazines stacked in a corner. He struck three blows on it, saying in a low clear voice:
"Open! Open to brothers!"