Strange to say, he did not doubt, for a moment that Malreich was there. He would meet him inevitably; the formidable battle which they were waging against each other was nearing its end. A few minutes more and, one way or another, all would be over. He was amazed, on grasping the handle of a door, to find that the handle turned and the door opened under his pressure. The villa was not even locked. He passed through a kitchen, a hall and up a staircase; and he walked deliberately, without seeking to deaden the sound of his footsteps. On the landing, he stopped. The perspiration streamed from his forehead; and his temples throbbed under the rush of his blood. Nevertheless, he remained calm, master of himself and conscious of his least thoughts. He laid two revolvers on a stair: "No weapons," he said to himself. "My hands only, just the effort of my two hands. . . . That's quite enough. . . . That will be better. . . ." Opposite him were three doors. He chose the middle one, turned the handle and encountered no obstacle. He went in. There was no light in the room, but the rays of the night entered through the wide-open window and, amid the darkness, he saw the sheets and the white curtains of the bed. And somebody was standing beside it. He savagely cast the gleam of his lantern upon that form. Malreich! The pallid face of Malreich, his dim eyes, his cadaverous cheek-bones, his scraggy neck. . . . And all this stood motionless, opposite him, at five steps' distance; and he could not have said whether that dull face, that death-face, expressed the least terror or even a grain of anxiety. Lupin took a step forward . . . and a second . . . and a third. . . . The man did not move. Did he see? Did he understand? It was as though the man's eyes were gazing into space and that he thought himself possessed by an hallucination, rather than looking upon a real image. One more step. . . . "He will defend himself," thought Lupin, "he is bound to defend himself." And Lupin thrust out his arms. The man did not make a movement. He did not retreat; his eyelids did not blink. The contact took place. And it was Lupin, scared and bewildered, who lost his head. He knocked the man back upon his bed, stretched him at full length, rolled him in the sheets, bound him in the blankets and held him under his knee, like a prey . . . whereas the man had not made the slightest movement of resistance. "Ah!" shouted Lupin, drunk with delight and satisfied hatred. "At last I have crushed you, you odious brute! At last I am the master!" He heard a noise outside, in the Rue Delaizement; men knocking at the gate. He ran to the window and cried: "Is that you, Weber? Already? Well done! You are a model servant! Break down the gate, old chap, and come up here; delighted to see you!"