He did not go. He felt that it would be impossible for him to go, that he must wait, that chance might yet serve his turn. With infinite precautions, he took four or five coats and great-coats from their hooks, laid them on the floor, made himself comfortable and, with his back to the wall, went peacefully to sleep. The baron was not an early riser. A clock outside was striking nine when he got out of bed and rang for his servant. He read the letters which his man brought him, splashed about in his tub, dressed without saying a word and sat down to his table to write, while Dominique was carefully hanging up the clothes of the previous day in the cupboard and Sernine asking himself, with his fists ready to strike: "I wonder if I shall have to stave in this fellow's solar plexus?" At ten o'clock the baron was ready: "Leave me," said he to the servant. "There's just this waistcoat. . . ." "Leave me, I say. Come back when I ring . . . not before." He shut the door himself, like a man who does not trust others, went to a table on which a telephone was standing and took down the receiver: "Hullo! . . . Put me on to Garches, please, mademoiselle. . . . Very well, I'll wait till you ring me up. . . ." He sat down to the instrument. The telephone-bell rang. "Hullo!" said Altenheim. "Is that Garches? . . . Yes, that's right. . . . Give me number 38, please, mademoiselle. . . ." A few seconds later, in a lower voice, as low and as distinct as he could make it, he began: "Are you 38? . . . It's I speaking; no useless words. . . . Yesterday? . . . Yes, you missed him in the garden. . . . Another time, of course; but the thing's becoming urgent. . . . He had the house searched last night. . . . I'll tell you about it. . . . Found nothing, of course. . . . What? . . . Hullo! . . . No, old Steinweg refuses to speak. . . . Threats, promises, nothing's any good. . . . Hullo! . . . Yes, of course, he sees that we can do nothing. . . . We know just a part of the Kesselbach scheme and of the story of Pierre Leduc. . . . He's the only one who has the answer to the riddle. . . . Oh, he'll speak all right; that I'll answer for . . . this very night, too . . . If not . . . What? . . . Well, what can we do? Anything rather than let him escape! Do you want the prince to bag him from us? As for the prince, we shall have to cook his goose in three days from now. . . . You have an idea? . . . Yes, that's a good idea. . . . Oh, oh, excellent! I'll see to it. . . . When shall we meet? Will Tuesday do? Right you are. I'll come on Tuesday . . . at two o'clock. . . . Good-bye." He replaced the receiver and went out. A few hours later, while the servants were at lunch, Prince Sernine strolled quietly out of the Villa Dupont, feeling rather faint in the head and weak in the knees, and, while making for the nearest restaurant, he thus summed up the situation: