"Take the motor and go to Paris. You will be there by six o'clock in the morning. See Jacques Doudeville and tell him two things: first, to give me news of the man under sentence of death; and secondly, as soon as the post-offices open, to send me a telegram which I will write down for you now. . . ." He worded the telegram on a scrap of paper and added: "The moment you have done that, come back, but this way, along the wall of the park. Go now. No one must suspect your absence." Lupin went to his own room, pressed the spring of his lantern and began to make a minute inspection. "It's as I thought," he said presently. "Some one came here to-night, while I was watching beneath the window. And, if he came, I know what he came for. . . . I was certainly right: things are getting warm. . . . The first time, I was spared. This time, I may be sure of my little stab." For prudence's sake, he took a blanket, chose a lonely spot in the park and spent the night under the stars. Octave was back by ten o'clock in the morning: "It's all right, governor. The telegram has been sent." "Good. And is Louis de Malreich still in prison?" "Yes. Doudeville passed his cell at the Santé last night as the warder was coming out. They talked together. Malreich is just the same, it appears: silent as the grave. He is waiting." "Waiting for what?" "The fatal hour of course. They are saying, at headquarters, that the execution will take place on the day after to-morrow." "That's all right, that's all right," said Lupin. "And one thing is quite plain: he has not escaped." He ceased to understand or even to look for the explanation of the riddle, so clearly did he feel that the whole truth would soon be revealed to him. He had only to prepare his plan, for the enemy to fall into the trap. "Or for me to fall into it myself," he thought, laughing. He felt very gay, very free from care; and no fight had ever looked more promising to him. A footman came from the castle with the telegram which he had told Doudeville to send him and which the postman had just brought. He opened it and put it in his pocket. * * * * * A little before twelve o'clock, he met Pierre Leduc in one of the avenues and said, off-hand: "I am looking for you . . . things are serious. . . . You must answer me frankly. Since you have been at the castle, have you ever seen a man there, besides the two German servants whom I sent in?" "No." "Think carefully. I'm not referring to a casual visitor. I mean a man who hides himself, a man whose presence you might have discovered or, less than that, whose presence you might have suspected from some clue or even by some intuition?" "No. . . . Have you . . . ?"