Altenheim was beside himself with fury. He gnashed his teeth: "You are making a mistake, Lupin," he mumbled, "you are making a mistake. . . . I don't want anybody either; and this business gives me no more difficulty than plenty of others which I have pulled off. . . . What I said was said in order to effect our object more quickly and without inconveniencing each other." "You're not inconveniencing me," said Lupin, scornfully. "Look here! If we don't combine, only one of us will succeed." "That's good enough for me." "And he will only succeed by passing over the other's body. Are you prepared for that sort of duel, Lupin? A duel to the death, do you understand? . . . The knife is a method which you despise; but suppose you received one, Lupin, right in the throat?" "Aha! So, when all is said, that's what you propose?" "No, I am not very fond of shedding blood. . . . Look at my fists: I strike . . . and my man falls. . . . I have special blows of my own. . . . But _the other one_ kills . . . remember . . . the little wound in the throat. . . . Ah, Lupin, beware of him, beware of that one! . . . He is terrible, he is implacable. . . . Nothing stops him." He spoke these words in a low voice and with such excitement that Sernine shuddered at the hideous thought of the unknown murderer: "Baron," he sneered, "one would think you were afraid of your accomplice!" "I am afraid for the others, for those who bar our road, for you, Lupin. Accept, or you are lost. I shall act myself, if necessary. The goal is too near . . . I have my hand on it. . . . Get out of my way, Lupin!" He was all energy and exasperated will. He spoke forcibly and so brutally that he seemed ready to strike his enemy then and there. Sernine shrugged his shoulders: "Lord, how hungry I am!" he said, yawning. "What a time to lunch at!" The door opened. "Lunch is served, sir," said the butler. "Ah, that's good hearing!" In the doorway, Altenheim caught Sernine by the arm and, disregarding the servant's presence: "If you take my advice . . . accept. This is a serious moment in your life . . . and you will do better, I swear to you, you will do better . . . to accept. . . ." "Caviare!" cried Sernine. "Now, that's too sweet of you. . . . You remembered that you were entertaining a Russian prince!" They sat down facing each other, with the baron's greyhound, a large animal with long, silver hair, between them. "Let me introduce Sirius, my most faithful friend." "A fellow-countryman," said Sernine. "I shall never forget the one which the Tsar was good enough to give me when I had the honor to save his life." "Ah, you had that honor . . . a terrorist conspiracy, no doubt?" "Yes, a conspiracy got up by myself. You must know, this dog--its name, by the way, was Sebastopol. . . ."