Guerchard ran to the door and shouted again. “I think the fat’s in the fire now,” said Lupin, laughing. He sprang to the table, opened the cardboard box, whipped off the top layer of cotton-wool, and took out a shining bomb. He sprang to the wall, pressed the button, the bookshelf glided slowly to one side, the lift rose to the level of the floor and its doors flew open just as the detectives rushed in. “Collar him!” yelled Guerchard. “Stand back—hands up!” cried Lupin, in a terrible voice, raising his right hand high above his head. “You know what this is ... a bomb.... Come and collar me now, you swine! ... Hands up, you ... Guerchard!” “You silly funks!” roared Guerchard. “Do you think he’d dare?” “Come and see!” cried Lupin. “I will!” cried Guerchard. And he took a step forward. As one man his detectives threw themselves upon him. Three of them gripped his arms, a fourth gripped him round the waist; and they all shouted at him together, not to be a madman! ... To look at Lupin’s eyes! ... That Lupin was off his head! “What miserable swine you are!” cried Lupin scornfully. He sprang forward, caught up the kit-bag in his left hand, and tossed it behind him into the lift. “You dirty crew!” he cried again. “Oh, why isn’t there a photographer here? And now, Guerchard, you thief, give me back my pocket-book.” “Never!” screamed Guerchard, struggling with his men, purple with fury. “Oh, Lord, master! Do be careful! Don’t rile him!” cried Bonavent in an agony. “What? Do you want me to smash up the whole lot?” roared Lupin, in a furious, terrible voice. “Do I look as if I were bluffing, you fools?” “Let him have his way, master!” cried Dieusy. “Yes, yes!” cried Bonavent. “Let him have his way!” cried another. “Give him his pocket-book!” cried a third. “Never!” howled Guerchard. “It’s in his pocket—his breast-pocket! Be smart!” roared Lupin. “Come, come, it’s got to be given to him,” cried Bonavent. “Hold the master tight!” And he thrust his hand into the breast of Guerchard’s coat, and tore out the pocket-book. “Throw it on the table!” cried Lupin. Bonavent threw it on to the table; and it slid along it right to Lupin. He caught it in his left hand, and slipped it into his pocket. “Good!” he said. And then he yelled ferociously, “Look out for the bomb!” and made a feint of throwing it. The whole group fell back with an odd, unanimous, sighing groan. Lupin sprang into the lift, and the doors closed over the opening. There was a great sigh of relief from the frightened detectives, and then the chunking of machinery as the lift sank. Their grip on Guerchard loosened. He shook himself free, and shouted, “After him! You’ve got to make up for this! Down into the cellars, some of you! Others go to the secret entrance! Others to the servants’ entrance! Get into the street! Be smart! Dieusy, take the lift with me!”