“I must. If I don’t telephone Sonia will come here. She will run right into Guerchard’s arms. Why the devil don’t they answer? They must be deaf!” And he rang the bell again. “Let’s go to her! Let’s get out of here!” cried Victoire, more anxiously. “There really isn’t any time to waste.” “Go to her? But I don’t know where she is. I lost my head last night,” cried Lupin, suddenly anxious himself. “Are you there?” he shouted into the telephone. “She’s at a little hotel near the Star. ... Are you there? ... But there are twenty hotels near the Star.... Are you there? ... Oh, I did lose my head last night. ... Are you there? Oh, hang this telephone! Here I’m fighting with a piece of furniture. And every second is important!” He picked up the machine, shook it, saw that the wires were cut, and cried furiously: “Ha! They’ve played the telephone trick on me! That’s Guerchard.... The swine!” “And now you can come along!” cried Victoire. “But that’s just what I can’t do!” he cried. “But there’s nothing more for you to do here, since you can no longer telephone,” said Victoire, bewildered. Lupin caught her arm and shook her, staring into her face with panic-stricken eyes. “But don’t you understand that, since I haven’t telephoned, she’ll come here?” he cried hoarsely. “Five-and-twenty minutes past eight! At half-past eight she will start—start to come here.” His face had suddenly grown haggard; this new fear had brought back all the exhaustion of the night; his eyes were panic-stricken. “But what about you?” said Victoire, wringing her hands. “What about her?” said Lupin; and his voice thrilled with anguished dread. “But you’ll gain nothing by destroying both of you—nothing at all.” “I prefer it,” said Lupin slowly, with a suddenly stubborn air. “But they’re coming to take you,” cried Victoire, gripping his arm. “Take me?” cried Lupin, freeing himself quietly from her grip. And he stood frowning, plunged in deep thought, weighing the chances, the risks, seeking a plan, saving devices. He crossed the room to the writing-table, opened a drawer, and took out a cardboard box about eight inches square and set it on the table. “They shall never take me alive,” he said gloomily. “Oh, hush, hush!” said Victoire. “I know very well that you’re capable of anything ... and they too—they’ll destroy you. No, look you, you must go. They won’t do anything to her—a child like that—so frail. She’ll get off quite easily. You’re coming, aren’t you?” “No, I’m not,” said Lupin stubbornly. “Oh, well, if you won’t,” said Victoire; and with an air of resolution she went to the side of the lift-well, and pressed the buttons. The doors closed; the book-case slid across. She sat down and folded her arms. “What, you’re not going to stop here?” cried Lupin. “Make me stir if you can. I’m as fond of you as she is—you know I am,” said Victoire, and her face set stonily obstinate.