Martial did not move; his revolver was turned towards the intruders. “If I can parley with them and hold them in check only two minutes, all may yet be saved,” he thought. He obtained the required delay; then throwing his weapon to the ground, he was about to bound through the back door, when a police agent, who had gone round to the rear of the house, seized him about the body, and threw him to the floor. From this side he expected only assistance, hence he exclaimed: “Lost! It is the Prussians who are coming!” In the twinkling of an eye he was bound; and two hours later he was an inmate of the station-house at the Place d’Italie. He had played his part so perfectly, that he had deceived even Gevrol. His assailants were dead, and he could rely upon the Widow Chupin. But he knew that the trap had been set for him by Jean Lacheneur; and he read a whole volume of suspicion in the eyes of the young officer who had cut off his retreat, and who was called Lecoq by his companions. XL. The Duke de Sairmeuse was one of those men who remain superior to circumstances. He was possessed of vast experience, and great natural shrewdness. His mind was quick to act, and fertile in resources. But when he found himself immured in the damp and loathsome station-house at the Place d’Italie, after the terrible scene we have just recalled, he felt inclined to relinquish all hope. He knew that justice does not trust to appearances, and that when an investigating magistrate finds himself in presence of a mystery, he does not rest until he has fathomed it. He knew only too well, moreover, that if his identity was established, the authorities would endeavour to discover the reason that had led him to the Poivriere; now he could scarcely doubt but what this reason would soon be discovered, and, in that case, the crime at the Borderie, and the duchess’s guilt, would undoubtedly be made public. This meant the Assize Court for the woman who bore his name--imprisonment, perhaps execution, at all events, a frightful scandal, dishonour, eternal disgrace! And the power he had wielded in former days was a positive disadvantage to him now, when his past position was filled by his political adversaries. Among them were two personal enemies, whose vanity he once had wounded, and who had never forgiven him. They would certainly not neglect the present opportunity for revenge. At the thought of such an ineffaceable stain on the great name of Sairmeuse, which was his pride and glory, reason almost forsook him. “My God, inspire me,” he murmured. “How shall I save the honour of the name?”