“By Jove!” he thought, “he’s sticking to his post.  It will be a tough job.  He suspects something.  However, let’s make a start!”

He went through the drawing-room and entered his study.  Weber saw him.  The two enemies were face to face.

There was a few seconds’ silence before the duel opened, the duel which was bound to be swift and vigorous, without the least sign of weakness or distraction on either side.  It could not last longer than three minutes.

The deputy chief’s face bore an expression of mingled joy and anxiety.  For the first time he had permission, he had orders, to fight that accursed Don Luis, against whom he had never yet been able to satisfy his hatred.  And his delight was all the greater because he held every trump, whereas Don Luis had put himself in the wrong by defending Florence Levasseur and tampering with the girl’s portrait.  On the other hand, Weber did not forget that Don Luis was identical with Arsene Lupin; and this consideration caused him a certain uneasiness.  He was obviously thinking: 

“The least blunder, and I’m done for.”

He crossed swords with a jest.

“I see that you were not in Mlle. Levasseur’s lodge, as your man pretended.”

“My man spoke in accordance with my instructions, I was in my bedroom, upstairs.  But I wanted to finish the job before I came down.”

“And is it done?”

“It’s done.  Florence Levasseur and Gaston Sauverand are in my room, gagged and bound.  You have only to accept delivery of the goods.”

“Gaston Sauverand!” cried Weber.  “Then it was he who was seen coming in?”

“Yes.  He was simply living with Florence Levasseur, whose lover he is.”

“Oho!” said the deputy chief, in a bantering tone.  “Her lover!”

“Yes; and when Sergeant Mazeroux brought Florence Levasseur to my room, to question her out of hearing of the servants, Sauverand, foreseeing the arrest of his mistress, had the audacity to join us.  He tried to rescue her from our hands.”

“And you checkmated him?”

“Yes.”

It was clear that the deputy chief did not believe one word of the story.  He knew through M. Desmalions and Mazeroux that Don Luis was in love with Florence; and Don Luis was not the man even through jealousy to hand over a woman whom he loved.  He increased his attention.

“Good business!” he said.  “Take me up to your room.  Was it a hard struggle?”

“Not very.  I managed to disarm the scoundrel.  All the same, Mazeroux got stabbed in the thumb.”

“Nothing serious?”

“Oh, dear, no; but he has gone to have his wound dressed at the chemist’s.”

The deputy chief stopped, greatly surprised.

“What!  Isn’t Mazeroux in your room with the two prisoners?”

“I never told you that he was.”

“No, but your butler—­”

“The butler made a mistake.  Mazeroux went out a few minutes before you came.”