“Do you understand, Beautrelet, why I let you have things your own way when I could have crushed you, time after time, weeks ago? Do you understand how you succeeded in getting as far as this? Do you understand that I had given each of my men his share of the plunder when you met them the other night on the cliff? You do understand, don’t you? The Hollow Needle is the great adventure. As long as it belongs to me, I remain the great adventurer. Once the Needle is recaptured, it means that the past and I are parted and that the future begins, a future of peace and happiness, in which I shall have no occasion to blush when Raymonde’s eyes are turned upon me, a future—” He turned furiously toward the door: “Stop that noise, Ganimard, will you? I haven’t finished my speech!” The blows came faster. It was like the sound of a beam that was being hurled against the door. Beautrelet, mad with curiosity, stood in front of Lupin and awaited events, without understanding what Lupin was doing or contemplating. To give up the Needle was all very well; but why was he giving up himself? What was his plan? Did he hope to escape from Ganimard? And, on the other hand, where was Raymonde? Lupin, meantime, was murmuring, dreamily: “An honest man.—Arsène Lupin an honest man—no more robbery—leading the life of everybody else.—And why not? There is no reason why I should not meet with the same success.—But do stop that now, Ganimard! Don’t you know, you ass, that I’m uttering historic words and that Beautrelet is taking them in for the benefit of posterity?” He laughed. “I am wasting my time. Ganimard will never grasp the use of my historic words.” He took a piece of red chalk, put a pair of steps to the wall and wrote, in large letters: Arsène Lupin gives and bequeaths to France all the treasures contained in the Hollow Needle, on the sole condition that these treasures be housed at the Musée du Louvre in rooms which shall be known as the Arsène Lupin Rooms. “Now,” he said, “my conscience is at ease. France and I are quits.” The attackers were striking with all their might. One of the panels burst in two. A hand was put through and fumbled for the lock. “Thunder!” said Lupin. “That idiot of a Ganimard is capable of effecting his purpose for once in his life.” He rushed to the lock and removed the key. “Sold, old chap!—The door’s tough.—I have plenty of time—Beautrelet, I must say good-bye. And thank you!—For really you could have complicated the attack—but you’re so tactful!” While speaking, he moved toward a large triptych by Van der Weyden, representing the Wise Men of the East. He shut the right-hand panel and, in so doing, exposed a little door concealed behind it and seized the handle. “Good luck to your hunting, Ganimard! And kind regards at home!”