"The handcuffs?" said Lupin; and his face fell. Then it cleared; and he added lightly, "After all, there's nothing like being careful; and, by Jove, with me you need to be. I might get away yet. What luck it is for you that I'm so soft, so little of a Charmerace, so human! Truly, I can't be much of a man of the world, to be in love like this!"  
"Come, come, hold out your hands!" said Guerchard, jingling the handcuffs impatiently.
 
"I should like to see that child for the last time," said Lupin gently.
 
"All right," said Guerchard.
 
"Arsene Lupin—and nabbed by you! If you aren't in luck! Here you are!" said Lupin bitterly; and he held out his wrists.
 
Guerchard snapped the handcuffs on them with a grunt of satisfaction.
 
Lupin gazed down at them with a bitter face, and said: "Oh, you are in luck! You're not married by any chance?"
 
"Yes, yes; I am," said Guerchard hastily; and he went quickly to the door and opened it: "Dieusy!" he called. "Dieusy! Mademoiselle Kritchnoff is at liberty. Tell her so, and bring her in here."
 
Lupin started back, flushed and scowling; he cried: "With these things on my hands! ... No! ... I can't see her!"
 
Guerchard stood still, looking at him. Lupin's scowl slowly softened, and he said, half to himself, "But I should have liked to see her ... very much ... for if she goes like that ... I shall not know when or where—" He stopped short, raised his eyes, and said in a decided tone: "Ah, well, yes; I should like to see her."
 
"If you've quite made up your mind," said Guerchard impatiently, and he went into the anteroom.
 
Lupin stood very still, frowning thoughtfully. He heard footsteps on the stairs, and then the voice of Guerchard in the anteroom, saying, in a jeering tone, "You're free, mademoiselle; and you can thank the Duke for it. You owe your liberty to him."
 
"Free! And I owe it to him?" cried the voice of Sonia, ringing and golden with extravagant joy.
 
"Yes, mademoiselle," said Guerchard. "You owe it to him."
 
She came through the open door, flushed deliciously and smiling, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. Lupin had never seen her look half so adorable.
 
"Is it to you I owe it? Then I shall owe everything to you. Oh, thank you—thank you!" she cried, holding out her hands to him.
 
Lupin half turned away from her to hide his handcuffs.
 
She misunderstood the movement. Her face fell suddenly like that of a child rebuked: "Oh, I was wrong. I was wrong to come here!" she cried quickly, in changed, dolorous tones. "I thought yesterday ... I made a mistake ... pardon me. I'm going. I'm going."
 
Lupin was looking at her over his shoulder, standing sideways to hide the handcuffs. He said sadly. "Sonia—"
 
"No, no, I understand! It was impossible!" she cried quickly, cutting him short. "And yet if you only knew—if you knew how I have changed—with what a changed spirit I came here.... Ah, I swear that now I hate all my past. I loathe it. I swear that now the mere presence of a thief would overwhelm me with disgust."
 
"Hush!" said Lupin, flushing deeply, and wincing. "Hush!"
 
"But, after all, you're right," she said, in a gentler voice. "One can't wipe out what one has done. If I were to give back everything I've taken—if I were to spend years in remorse and repentance, it would be no use. In your eyes I should always be Sonia Kritchnoff, the thief!" The great tears welled slowly out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks; she let them stream unheeded.
 
"Sonia!" cried Lupin, protesting.
 
But she would not hear him. She broke out with fresh vehemence, a feverish passion: "And yet, if I'd been a thief, like so many others... but you know why I stole. I'm not trying to defend myself, but, after all, I did it to keep honest; and when I loved you it was not the heart of a thief that thrilled, it was the heart of a poor girl who loved...that's all...who loved."
 
"You don't know what you're doing! You're torturing me! Be quiet!" cried Lupin hoarsely, beside himself.
 
"Never mind...I'm going...we shall never see one another any more," she sobbed. "But will you...will you shake hands just for the last time?"
 
"No!" cried Lupin.
 
"You won't?" wailed Sonia in a heartrending tone.
 
"I can't!" cried Lupin.
 
"You ought not to be like this.... Last night ... if you were going to let me go like this ... last night ... it was wrong," she wailed, and turned to go.
 
"Wait, Sonia! Wait!" cried Lupin hoarsely. "A moment ago you said something.... You said that the mere presence of a thief would overwhelm you with disgust. Is that true?"
 
"Yes, I swear it is," cried Sonia.
 
Guerchard appeared in the doorway.
 
"And if I were not the man you believe?" said Lupin sombrely.
 
"What?" said Sonia; and a faint bewilderment mingled with her grief. "If I were not the Duke of Charmerace?"
 
"Not the Duke?"
 
"If I were not an honest man?" said Lupin.
 
"You?" cried Sonia.
 
"If I were a thief? If I were—"
 
"Arsene Lupin," jeered Guerchard from the door.
 
Lupin turned and held out his manacled wrists for her to see.
 
"Arsene Lupin! ... it's ... it's true!" stammered Sonia. "But then, but then ... it must be for my sake that you've given yourself up. And it's for me you're going to prison. Oh, Heavens! How happy I am!"
 
She sprang to him, threw her arms round his neck, and pressed her lips to his.
 
"And that's what women call repenting," said Guerchard.
 
He shrugged his shoulders, went out on to the landing, and called to the policeman in the hall to bid the driver of the prison-van, which was waiting, bring it up to the door.
 
"Oh, this is incredible!" cried Lupin, in a trembling voice; and he kissed Sonia's lips and eyes and hair. "To think that you love me enough to go on loving me in spite of this—in spite of the fact that I'm Arsene Lupin. Oh, after this, I'll become an honest man! It's the least I can do. I'll retire."
 
"You will?" cried Sonia.
 
"Upon my soul, I will!" cried Lupin; and he kissed her again and again.
 
Guerchard came back into the room. He looked at them with a cynical grin, and said, "Time's up."
 
"Oh, Guerchard, after so many others, I owe you the best minute of my life!" cried Lupin.
 
Bonavent, still in his porter's livery, came hurrying through the anteroom: "Master," he cried, "I've found it."
 
"Found what?" said Guerchard.
 
"The secret entrance. It opens into that little side street. We haven't got the door open yet; but we soon shall."
 
"The last link in the chain," said Guerchard, with warm satisfaction. "Come along, Lupin."
 
"But he's going to take you away! We're going to be separated!" cried Sonia, in a sudden anguish of realization.
 
"It's all the same to me now!" cried Lupin, in the voice of a conqueror.
 
"Yes, but not to me!" cried Sonia, wringing her hands.
 
"Now you must keep calm and go. I'm not going to prison," said Lupin, in a low voice. "Wait in the hall, if you can. Stop and talk to Victoire; condole with her. If they turn you out of the house, wait close to the front door."
 
"Come, mademoiselle," said Guerchard. "You must go."
 
"Go, Sonia, go—good-bye—good-bye," said Lupin; and he kissed her.
 
She went quietly out of the room, her handkerchief to her eyes. Guerchard held open the door for her, and kept it open, with his hand still on the handle; he said to Lupin: "Come along."
 
Lupin yawned, stretched himself, and said coolly, "My dear Guerchard, what I want after the last two nights is rest—rest." He walked quickly across the room and stretched himself comfortably at full length on the couch.
 
"Come, get up," said Guerchard roughly. "The prison-van is waiting for you. That ought to fetch you out of your dream."
 
"Really, you do say the most unlucky things," said Lupin gaily.
 
He had resumed his flippant, light-hearted air; his voice rang as lightly and pleasantly as if he had not a care in the world.
 
"Do you mean that you refuse to come?" cried Guerchard in a rough, threatening tone.
 
"Oh, no," said Lupin quickly: and he rose.
 
"Then come along!" said Guerchard.
 
"No," said Lupin, "after all, it's too early." Once more he stretched himself out on the couch, and added languidly, "I'm lunching at the English Embassy."
 
"Now, you be careful!" cried Guerchard angrily. "Our parts are changed. If you're snatching at a last straw, it's waste of time. All your tricks—I know them. Understand, you rogue, I know them."
 
"You know them?" said Lupin with a smile, rising. "It's fatality!"
 
He stood before Guerchard, twisting his hands and wrists curiously. Half a dozen swift movements; and he held out his handcuffs in one hand and threw them on the floor.
 
"Did you know that trick, Guerchard? One of these days I shall teach you to invite me to lunch," he said slowly, in a mocking tone; and he gazed at the detective with menacing, dangerous eyes.
 
"Come, come, we've had enough of this!" cried Guerchard, in mingled astonishment, anger, and alarm. "Bonavent! Boursin! Dieusy! Here! Help! Help!" he shouted.
 
"Now listen, Guerchard, and understand that I'm not humbugging," said Lupin quickly, in clear, compelling tones. "If Sonia, just now, had had one word, one gesture of contempt for me, I'd have given way—yielded ... half-yielded, at any rate; for, rather than fall into your triumphant clutches, I'd have blown my brains out. I've now to choose between happiness, life with Sonia, or prison. Well, I've chosen. I will live happy with her, or else, my dear Guerchard, I'll die with you. Now let your men come—I'm ready for them."
 
Guerchard ran to the door and shouted again.
 
"I think the fat's in the fire now," said Lupin, laughing.
 
He sprang to the table, opened the cardboard box, whipped off the top layer of cotton-wool, and took out a shining bomb.
 
He sprang to the wall, pressed the button, the boo............