“Well, I knew it was going to be a tough job, so I took a good rest—an hour, I should think. And then I started to walk back. I found that I had come a devil of a way—I must have gone at Marathon pace. I walked and walked, and at last I got into Paris, and found myself with still a couple of miles to go. It was all right now; I should soon find a cab. But the luck was dead against me. I heard a man come round the corner of a side-street into a long street I was walking down. He gave a yell, and came bucketing after me. It was that hound Dieusy. He had recognized my figure. Off I went; and the chase began again. I led him a dance, but I couldn’t shake him off. All the while I was working my way towards home. Then, just at last, I spurted for all I was worth, got out of his sight, bolted round the corner of the street into the secret entrance, and here I am.” He smiled weakly, and added, “Oh, my dear Victoire, what a profession it is!” CHAPTER XXI THE CUTTING OF THE TELEPHONE WIRES The door opened, and in came Charolais, bearing a tray. “Here’s your breakfast, master,” he said. “Don’t call me master—that’s how his men address Guerchard. It’s a disgusting practice,” said Lupin severely. Victoire and Charolais were quick laying the table. Charolais kept up a running fire of questions as he did it; but Lupin did not trouble to answer them. He lay back, relaxed, drawing deep breaths. Already his lips had lost their greyness, and were pink; there was a suggestion of blood under the skin of his pale face. They soon had the table laid; and he walked to it on fairly steady feet. He sat down; Charolais whipped off a cover, and said: “Anyhow, you’ve got out of the mess neatly. It was a jolly smart escape.” “Oh, yes. So far it’s all right,” said Lupin. “But there’s going to be trouble presently—lots of it. I shall want all my wits. We all shall.” He fell upon his breakfast with the appetite but not the manners of a wolf. Charolais went out of the room. Victoire hovered about him, pouring out his coffee and putting sugar into it. “By Jove, how good these eggs are!” he said. “I think that, of all the thousand ways of cooking eggs, _en cocotte_ is the best.” “Heavens! how empty I was!” he said presently. “What a meal I’m making! It’s really a very healthy life, this of mine, Victoire. I feel much better already.” “Oh, yes; it’s all very well to talk,” said Victoire, in a scolding tone; for since he was better, she felt, as a good woman should, that the time had come to put in a word out of season. “But, all the same, you’re trying to kill yourself—that’s what you’re doing. Just because you’re young you abuse your youth. It won’t last for ever; and you’ll be sorry you used it up before it’s time. And this life of lies and thefts and of all kinds of improper things—I suppose it’s going to begin all over again. It’s no good your getting a lesson. It’s just thrown away upon you.” “What I want next is a bath,” said Lupin.