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Updated: June 18, 2025
Here's your hat, here's your overcoat, here's your stick. Be off. I will wait for you." Then happened this extraordinary and yet easily understood thing, that Prasville did not raise the slightest protest nor make the least show of fight. He received the sudden, far-reaching, utter conviction of what the personality known as Arsene Lupin meant, in all its breadth and fulness.
"Monsieur le secretaire-general, it's Monsieur le Depute Daubrecq asking to see you... on a matter of the highest importance." "Daubrecq!" exclaimed Prasville, in bewilderment. "Daubrecq here! Show him in." Daubrecq had not waited for the order.
Prasville smiled: "The wish, obviously, would lead us to make certain sacrifices." "Every sacrifice," said Mme. Mergy, correcting him. "Every sacrifice, provided, of course, that we keep within the bounds of acceptable requirements." "And even if we go beyond those bounds," said Clarisse, inflexibly. Prasville began to lose patience: "Come, what is it all about? Explain yourself."
The two detectives followed close behind him and, when he took the Rue-Taitbout train, jumped on after him. Prasville at once walked across the square and rang the bell. The garden-gate was between the house and the porter's lodge. The portress came and opened it. There was a brief conversation, after which Prasville and his companions were admitted. "A domiciliary visit," said Lupin.
"By giving me, to-morrow, those particulars about the Marquis d'Albufex which it would take me personally several days to collect." Prasville seemed to hesitate and turned his head toward Mme. Mergy. Clarisse said: "I beg of you to accept M. Nicole's services. He is an invaluable and devoted ally. I will answer for him as I would for myself."
But she thrust him back with indomitable strength, took two or three more steps, staggered, as though on the point of falling, and, suddenly, in a burst of energy and despair, laid hold of Prasville and screamed: "You shall go to the Elysee!... You shall go at once!... You must!... You must save Gilbert!" "Please, please, my dear friend, calm yourself..."
Prasville once more took his hat, coat and stick, went downstairs, stepped into a taxi and drove to Vorenglade's flat. Here he was told that the ex-deputy was expected home from London at six o'clock that evening. It was two o'clock in the afternoon. Prasville therefore had plenty of time to prepare his plan.
I knew nothing of all that until this morning, when, lo and behold, I received a letter informing me of the existence of a bundle of documents which prove the complicity of our one and only Prasville! And who is my informant? Vorenglade himself!
"I must remind you, Prasville, that you gave me your word..." "Yes... yes... I know... But the thing is so unexpected..." "Why?" "Why? For all sorts of reasons!" "What reasons?" "Well... well, but... think! Gilbert and Vaucheray have been sentenced to death!" "Send them to penal servitude: that's all you have to do." "Impossible! The case has created an enormous sensation.
"And then?" said Prasville, who seemed to be losing some of his self-confidence. "Then? Ask yourself if an inquiry, however summary, would not end by discovering, behind that Stanislas Vorenglade, the name of one who shared certain little profits with him." "And whose name is?" "Louis Prasville." M. Nicole banged the table with his fist. "Enough of this humbug, monsieur!
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