“Two accomplices, for all that,” said Beautrelet, in conclusion, “or rather three, with the old woman. It is a bag worth having. And, if we lose no time—” He jumped on his bicycle, rode to Éguzon, woke up the gendarmerie, set them all going, made them sound the boot and saddle and returned to Crozant at eight o’clock, accompanied by the sergeant and eight gendarmes. Two of the men were posted beside the gipsy-van. Two others took up their positions outside the postern-door. The last four, commanded by their chief and accompanied by Beautrelet and Valméras, marched to the main entrance of the castle. Too late. The door was wide open. A peasant told them that he had seen a motor car drive out of the castle an hour before. Indeed, the search led to no result. In all probability, the gang had installed themselves there picnic fashion. A few clothes were found, a little linen, some household implements; and that was all. What astonished Beautrelet and Valméras more was the disappearance of the wounded man. They could not see the faintest trace of a struggle, not even a drop of blood on the flagstones of the hall. All said, there was no material evidence to prove the fleeting presence of Lupin at the Château de l’Aiguille; and the authorities would have been entitled to challenge the statements of Beautrelet and his father, of Valméras and Mlle. de Saint-Véran, had they not ended by discovering, in a room next to that occupied by the young girl, some half-dozen exquisite bouquets with Arsène Lupin’s card pinned to them, bouquets scorned by her, faded and forgotten—One of them, in addition to the card, contained a letter which Raymonde had not seen. That afternoon, when opened by the examining magistrate, it was found to contain page upon page of prayers, entreaties, promises, threats, despair, all the madness of a love that has encountered nothing but contempt and repulsion. And the letter ended: I shall come on Tuesday evening, Raymonde. Reflect between now and then. As for me, I will wait no longer. I am resolved on all. Tuesday evening was the evening of the very day on which Beautrelet had released Mlle. de Saint-Véran from her captivity. The reader will remember the extraordinary explosion of surprise and enthusiasm that resounded throughout the world at the news of that unexpected issue: Mlle. de Saint-Véran free! The pretty girl whom Lupin coveted, to secure whom he had contrived his most Machiavellian schemes, snatched from his claws! Free also Beautrelet’s father, whom Lupin had chosen as a hostage in his extravagant longing for the armistice demanded by the needs of his passion! They were both free, the two prisoners! And the secret of the Hollow Needle was known, published, flung to the four corners of the world!