"Speak," whispered d'Albufex. "Speak and it will be over."

"Yes... yes... " gasped Daubrecq.

"Well... ?"

"Later... to-morrow... "

"Oh, you're mad!... What are you talking about: to-morrow?... Sebastiani, another turn!"

"No, no!" yelled Daubrecq. "Stop!"

"Speak!"

"Well, then... the paper... I have hidden the paper... "

But his pain was too great. He raised his head with a last effort, uttered incoherent words, succeeded in twice saying, "Marie... Marie..." and fell back, exhausted and lifeless.

"Let go at once!" said d'Albufex to Sebastiani. "Hang it all, can we have overdone it?"

But a rapid examination showed him that Daubrecq had only fainted. Thereupon, he himself, worn out with the excitement, dropped on the foot of the bed and, wiping the beads of perspiration from his forehead, stammered:

"Oh, what a dirty business!"

"Perhaps that's enough for to-day," said the huntsman, whose rough face betrayed a certain emotion. "We might try again to-morrow or the next day... "

The marquis was silent. One of the sons handed him a flask of brandy. He poured out half a glass and drank it down at a draught:

"To-morrow?" he said. "No. Here and now. One little effort more. At the stage which he has reached, it won't be difficult." And, taking the huntsman aside, "Did you hear what he said? What did he mean by that word, 'Marie'? He repeated it twice."

"Yes, twice," said the huntsman. "Perhaps he entrusted the document to a person called Marie."

"Not he!" protested d'Albufex. "He never entrusts anything to anybody. It means something different."

"But what, monsieur le marquis?"

"We'll soon find out, I'll answer for it."

At that moment, Daubrecq drew a long breath and stirred on his couch.

D'Albufex, who had now recovered all his composure and who did not take his eyes off the enemy, went up to him and said:

"You see, Daubrecq, it's madness to resist... Once you're beaten, there's nothing for it but to submit to your conqueror, instead of allowing yourself to be tortured like an idiot... Come, be sensible."

He turned to Sebastiani:

"Tighten the rope... let him feel it a little that will wake him up... He's shamming death... Sebastiani took hold of the stick again and turned until the cord touched the swollen flesh. Daubrecq gave a start.

"That'll do, Sebastiani," said the marquis. "Our friend seems favourably disposed and understands the need for coming to terms. That's so, Daubrecq, is it not? You prefer to have done with it? And you're quite right!"

The two men were leaning over the sufferer, Sebastiani with his hand on the stick, d'Albufex holding the lamp so as to throw the light on Daubrecq's face: "His lips are moving... he's going to speak. Loosen the rope a little, Sebastiani: I don't want our friend to be hurt... No, tighten it: I believe our friend is hesitating... One turn more... stop! ... That's done it! Oh, my dear Daubrecq, if you can't speak plainer than that, it's no use! What? What did you say?"

Arsene Lupin muttered an oath. Daubrecq was speaking and he, Lupin, could not hear a word of what he said! In vain, he pricked up his ears, suppressed the beating of his heart and the throbbing of his temples: not a sound reached him.