"They are explaining the thing to him," he thought. "The baron must be in a tearing rage. He now understands the reason for my conduct at the club to-night and sees that I have dished him nicely. . . . Dished? That depends. . . . After all, I haven't got Steinweg yet. . . . That is the first thing that he will want to know: did they get Steinweg? To find this out, he will go straight to the hiding-place. If he goes up, it means that the hiding-place is upstairs. If he goes down, then it is in the basement." He listened. The sound of voices continued in the rooms on the ground floor, but it did not seem as if any one were moving. Altenheim must be cross-examining his confederates. It was half an hour before Sernine heard steps mounting the staircase. "Then it must be upstairs," he said to himself. "But why did they wait so long?" "Go to bed, all of you," said Altenheim's voice. The baron entered his room with one of his men and shut the door: "And I am going to bed, too, Dominique. We should be no further if we sat arguing all night." "My opinion is," said the other, "that he came to fetch Steinweg." "That is my opinion, too; and that's why I'm really enjoying myself, seeing that Steinweg isn't here." "But where is he, after all? What have you done with him?" "That's my secret; and you know I keep my secrets to myself. All that I can tell you is that he is in safe keeping, and that he won't get out before he has spoken." "So the prince is sold?" "Sold is the word. And he has had to fork out to attain this fine result! Oh, I've had a good time to-night! . . . Poor prince!" "For all that," said the other, "we shall have to get rid of him." "Make your mind easy, old man; that won't take long. Before a week's out you shall have a present of a pocket-book made out of Lupin-skin. But let me go to bed now. I'm dropping with sleep." There was a sound of the door closing. Then Sernine heard the baron push the bolt, empty his pockets, wind up his watch and undress. He seemed in a gay mood, whistling and singing, and even talking aloud: "Yes, a Lupin-skin pocket-book . . . in less than a week . . . in less than four days! . . . Otherwise he'll eat us up, the bully! . . . No matter, he missed his shot to-night. . . . His calculation was right enough, though . . . Steinweg was bound to be here. . . . Only, there you are! . . ." He got into bed and at once switched off the light. Sernine had come forward as far as the dividing curtain, which he now lifted slightly, and he saw the vague light of the night filtering through the windows, leaving the bed in profound darkness. He hesitated. Should he leap out upon the baron, take him by the throat and obtain from him by force and threats what he had not been able to obtain by craft? Absurd? Altenheim would never allow himself to be intimidated. "I say, he's snoring now," muttered Sernine. "Well, I'm off. At the worst, I shall have wasted a night."