“Listen to me, youngster,” he said. “It’s not a question of picking one’s words. It’s a question of a fact, a positive, indisputable fact; and that fact is this: in all the past ten years, I have not yet knocked up against an adversary of your capacity. With Ganimard and Holmlock Shears I played as if they were children. With you, I am obliged to defend myself, I will say more, to retreat. Yes, at this moment, you and I well know that I must look upon myself as worsted in the fight. Isidore Beautrelet has got the better of Arsène Lupin. My plans are upset. What I tried to leave in the dark you have brought into the full light of day. You annoy me, you stand in my way. Well, I’ve had enough of it—Brédoux told you so to no purpose. I now tell you so again; and I insist upon it, so that you may take it to heart: I’ve had enough of it!” Beautrelet nodded his head: “Yes, but what do you want?” “Peace! Each of us minding his own business, keeping to his own side!” “That is to say, you free to continue your burglaries undisturbed, I free to return to my studies.” “Your studies—anything you please—I don’t care. But you must leave me in peace—I want peace.” “How can I trouble it now?” Lupin seized his hand violently: “You know quite well! Don’t pretend not to know. You are at this moment in possession of a secret to which I attach the highest importance. This secret you were free to guess, but you have no right to give it to the public.” “Are you sure that I know it?” “You know it, I am certain: day by day, hour by hour, I have followed your train of thought and the progress of your investigations. At the very moment when Brédoux struck you, you were about to tell all. Subsequently, you delayed your revelations, out of solicitude for your father. But they are now promised to this paper here. The article is written. It will be set up in an hour. It will appear to-morrow.” “Quite right.” Lupin rose, and slashing the air with his hand, “It shall not appear!” he cried. “It shall appear!” said Beautrelet, starting up in his turn. At last, the two men were standing up to each other. I received the impression of a shock, as if they had seized each other round the body. Beautrelet seemed to burn with a sudden energy. It was as though a spark had kindled within him a group of new emotions: pluck, self-respect, the passion of fighting, the intoxication of danger. As for Lupin, I read in the radiance of his glance the joy of the duellist who at length encounters the sword of his hated rival. “Is the article in the printer’s hands?” “Not yet.” “Have you it there—on you?” “No fear! I shouldn’t have it by now, in that case!” “Then—” “One of the assistant editors has it, in a sealed envelope. If I am not at the office by midnight, he will have set it up.” “Oh, the scoundrel!” muttered Lupin. “He has provided for everything!”