With all his nerves tense as the string of a bow, he listened to the vague prison sounds, tried to catch through those inexorable walls all that might trickle in from the life outside. Oh, how he would have liked to stay the march of time and to give destiny a little more leisure! But what was the good? Was everything not finished? . . . "Oh," he cried, "I am going mad! If all this were only over . . . that would be better. I can begin again, differently. . . . I shall try something else . . . but I can't go on like this, I can't go on. . . ." He held his head in his hands, pressing it with all his might, locking himself within himself and concentrating his whole mind upon one subject, as though he wished to provoke, as though he wished to create the formidable, stupefying, inadmissible event to which he had attached his independence and his fortune: "It must happen," he muttered, "it must; and it must, not because I wish it, but because it is logical. And it shall happen . . . it shall happen. . . ." He beat his skull with his fists; and delirious words rose to his lips. . . . The key grated in the lock. In his frenzy, he had not heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor; and now, suddenly, a ray of light penetrated into his cell and the door opened. Three men entered. Lupin had not a moment of surprise. The unheard-of miracle was being worked; and this at once seemed to him natural and normal, in perfect agreement with truth and justice. But a rush of pride flooded his whole being. At this minute he really received a clear sensation of his own strength and intelligence. . . . * * * * * "Shall I switch on the light?" asked one of the three men, in whom Lupin recognized the governor of the prison. "No," replied the taller of his companions, speaking in a foreign accent. "This lantern will do." "Shall I go?" "Act according to your duty, sir," said the same individual. "My instructions from the prefect of police are to comply entirely with your wishes." "In that case, sir, it would be preferable that you should withdraw." M. Borély went away, leaving the door half open, and remained outside, within call. The visitor exchanged a few words with the one who had not yet spoken; and Lupin vainly tried to distinguish his features in the shade. He saw only two dark forms, clad in wide motoring-cloaks and wearing caps with the flaps lowered. "Are you Arsène Lupin?" asked the man, turning the light of the lantern full on his face. He smiled: "Yes, I am the person known as Arsène Lupin, at present a prisoner in the Santé, cell 14, second division." "Was it you," continued the visitor, "who published in the _Grand Journal_ a series of more or less fanciful notes, in which there is a question of a so-called collection of letters . . . ?" Lupin interrupted him.