Ralph picked up from the table a scrap of paper taken from the bottle, a scrap on which was written: “Marescal is a blockhead.” He unfolded it with a careless air and handed it to Marescal. “Take it, old chap, have it framed, and hang it up at the foot of your bed,” he said in the kindest accents, smiling amiably. “Yes, yes: go on fooling!” snarled Marescal. “Go on fooling as much as you like. It doesn’t alter the fact that I’ve got you too! You showed me the truth at the very beginning! That business of the cigarette! ‘Could you oblige me with a light.’ I’ll oblige you with a light all right! A light that will last you the rest of your life—in prison! Yes, in prison from which you came, and to which you’re going back straight away. In prison, I repeat—in prison! If you think that during my struggle with you I have not pierced your disguise; if you think that I do not know who you are and that I haven’t already all the necessary proofs to strip the mask off you, you’re wrong. Look at him, Aurelie, look at your sweetheart; and if you wish to know who he is, think for a moment of the king of crooks, of the most gentlemanly of burglars, of the master of masters, and say to yourself that Baron de Limézy, pseudo-nobleman and pseudo-explorer is no other man than——” The front door bell rang loudly and cut him short. It was Philippe and his two big policemen. It could be no one else. Marescal rubbed his hands and took a long breath. “I think you’re well in the soup, Lupin. What do you think?” Ralph looked at Aurelie. The name of Lupin appeared to have made no impression upon her. With an expression of anguish she was listening to the sounds below. “Poor lady with the green eyes, your faith is not yet perfect,” said Ralph. “How on earth can a gentleman of the name of Philippe torment you?” He opened the window, and speaking to some one on the pavement below, he said: “It’s the gentleman named Philippe from the Prefecture, isn’t it? Just a word with you, my friend, apart from your three big policemen, for they are three, hang it all! Don’t you recognize me? Baron de Limézy. Hurry up! Marescal is waiting for you.” He shut the window. “They’re all here, Marescal,” he said. “Four downstairs and three up here for I don’t count Bregeac, who seems to have lost interest in the business. That makes seven three-headed giants to make only one mouthful of me. I am horror-stricken, and so is the young lady with the green eyes.” Aurelie forced herself to smile; she even muttered two or three words they could not catch. Marescal was waiting on the landing. The front door was opened; hurrying steps came up the stairs. At once Marescal had to hand, eager to pull the quarry down, like a pack of hounds ready to be let loose, six men. He gave them their orders in a low voice, then entered, smiling all over his face. “You don’t want a useless fight, do you, Baron?” he said cheerfully.