Part 57 (1/2)

He had run halfway along the underground pa.s.sage, with the intention of reaching the other exit. But he stopped.

”It's not worth while, as the exit's watched. Well, let's see; am I to let myself be collared? Wait a bit, let's see--”

Already there came from the alcove below a noise of blows striking on the panel, the hollow sound of which had probably attracted the deputy chief's attention. And, as Weber was not compelled to take the same precautions as Don Luis, and seemed to be breaking down the panel without delaying to look for the mechanism, the danger was close at hand.

”Oh, hang it all!” muttered Don Luis. ”This is too silly. What shall I do? Have a dash at them? Ah, if I had all my strength!”

But he was exhausted by want of food. His legs shook beneath him and his brain seemed to lack its usual clearness.

The increasing violence of the blows in the alcove drove him, in spite of all, toward the upper exit; and, as he climbed the ladder, he moved his electric lantern over the stones of the wall and the wood of the trapdoor. He even tried to lift the door with his shoulder. But he again heard a sound of footsteps above his head. The men were still there.

Then, consumed with fury and helpless, he awaited the deputy's coming.

A crash came from below; its echo spread through the tunnel, followed by a tumult of voices.

”That's it,” he said to himself. ”The handcuffs, the lockup, the cell!

Good Lord, what luck--and what nonsense! And Marie Fauville, who's sure to do away with herself. And Florence--Florence--”

Before extinguis.h.i.+ng his lantern, he cast its light around him for the last time.

At a couple of yards' distance from the ladder, about three quarters of the way up and set a little way back, there was a big stone missing from the inner wall, leaving a s.p.a.ce just large enough to crouch in.

Although the recess did not form much of a hiding-place, it was just possible that they might omit to inspect it. Besides, Don Luis had no choice. At all events, after putting out the light, he leaned toward the edge of the hole, reached it, and managed to scramble in by bending himself in two.

Weber, Mazeroux, and their men were coming along. Don Luis propped himself against the back of his hiding-hole to avoid as far as possible the glare of the lanterns, of which he was beginning to see the gleams.

And an amazing thing happened: the stone against which he was pus.h.i.+ng toppled over slowly, as though moving on a pivot, and he fell backward into a second cavity situated behind it.

He quickly drew his legs after him and the stone swung back as slowly as before, not, however, without sending down a quant.i.ty of small stones, crumbling from the wall and half covering his legs.

”Well, well!” he chuckled. ”Can Providence be siding with virtue and righteousness?”

He heard Mazeroux's voice saying:

”n.o.body! And here's the end of the pa.s.sage. Unless he ran away as we came--look, through the trapdoor at the top of this ladder.”

Weber replied:

”Considering the slope by which we've come, it's certain that the trapdoor is on a level with the second floor. Well, the other little cross ought to mark the boudoir on the second floor, next to Don Luis's bedroom. That's what I supposed, and why I posted three of our men there.

If he's tried to get out on that side, he's caught.”

”We've only got to knock,” said Mazeroux. ”Our men will find the trapdoor and let us out. If not, we will break it down.”

More blows echoed down the pa.s.sage. Fifteen or twenty minutes after, the trapdoor gave way, and other voices now mingled with Weber's and Mazeroux's.

During this time, Don Luis examined his domain and perceived how extremely small it was. The most that he could do was to sit in it. It was a gallery, or, rather, a sort of gut, a yard and a half long and ending in an orifice, narrower still, heaped up with bricks. The walls, besides, were formed of bricks, some of which were lacking; and the building-stones which these should have kept in place crumbled at the least touch. The ground was strewn with them.

”By Jove!” thought Lupin, ”I must not wriggle about too much, or I shall risk being buried alive! A pleasant prospect!”

Not only this, but the fear of making a noise kept him motionless. As a matter of fact, he was close to two rooms occupied by the detectives, first the boudoir and then the study, for the boudoir, as he knew, was over that part of his study which included the telephone box.