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I haven't set eyes on him all day!" Suddenly, he had an idea, handed his portfolio to Bredoux, ran round the chateau and made for the ruins. Isidore Beautrelet was lying near the cloisters, flat on his face, with one arm folded under his head, on the ground carpeted with pine-needles. He seemed drowsing. "Hullo, young man, what are you doing here? Are you asleep?" "I'm not asleep.
Then the clerk closed the door, turned the key and put it in his pocket. "Hullo!" exclaimed Beautrelet, greatly surprised. "What are you locking us in for?" "We shall be able to talk so much better," retorted Bredoux. Beautrelet rushed toward another door, which led to the next room. He had understood: the accomplice was Bredoux, the clerk of the examining magistrate himself.
Bredoux grinned: "Don't hurt your fingers, my young friend. I have the key of that door, too." "There's the window!" cried Beautrelet. "Too late," said Bredoux, planting himself in front of the casement, revolver in hand. Every chance of retreat was cut off.
Bredoux was a queer sort of misshapen creature, who balanced on a pair of very long spindle-legs a huge trunk, as round as the body of a spider and furnished with immense arms. A bony face and a low, small stubborn forehead pointed to the man's narrow obstinacy. Beautrelet felt a weakness in the legs and staggered. He had to sit down: "Speak," he said. "What do you want?" "The paper.
The threat which you made to me in the letter in question was the more peremptory in being aimed not at me, but at my father." "My word," said Lupin laughing, "we must do the best we can and make use of the means of action vouchsafed to us. I knew by experience that your own safety was indifferent to you, seeing that you resisted the arguments of Master Bredoux.
At six o'clock in the evening, having finished all he had to do, M. Filluel, accompanied by M. Bredoux, his clerk, stood waiting for the carriage which was to take him back to Dieppe. He seemed restless, nervous. Twice over, he asked: "You haven't seen anything of young Beautrelet, I suppose?" "No, Monsieur le Juge d'Instruction, I can't say I have." "Where on earth can he be?
My friends, during the time that they had the management of our affairs, thought that it might be useful to win over to our cause the clerk of the magistrate himself who was conducting the inquiry." "Your friends were right." "Bredoux, who was specially attached to your person, was, in fact, most valuable to us.
Quick, the paper " Isidore did not flinch. With a livid and terrified face, he remained master of himself, nevertheless, and his brain remained clear amid the breakdown of his nerves. The little black hole of the revolver was pointing at six inches from his eyes. The finger was bent and obviously pressing on the trigger. It only wanted a moment "The paper," repeated Bredoux. "If not "
With Beautrelet free and cured of his wound, one could hope for some certainty regarding Harlington, Arsene Lupin's mysterious accomplice, who was still detained at the Sante prison. One would learn what had become, after the crime, of Bredoux the clerk, that other accomplice, whose daring was really terrifying.
You annoy me, you stand in my way. Well, I've had enough of it Bredoux told you so to no purpose. I now tell you so again; and I insist upon it, so that you may take it to heart: I've had enough of it!" Beautrelet nodded his head: "Yes, but what do you want?" "Peace! Each of us minding his own business, keeping to his own side!"
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