He appeared to be petrified; he examined the room in a
listless manner. The windows?....closed. The locks on the
doors?....intact. Not a break in the ceiling; not a hole in the
floor. Everything was in perfect order. The theft had been
carried out methodically, according to a logical and inexorable
plan.
"Arsene Lupin....Arsene Lupin," he muttered.
Suddenly, as if moved by anger, he rushed upon his two assistants
and shook them violently. They did not awaken.
"The devil!" he cried. "Can it be possible?"
He leaned over them and, in turn, examined them closely. They
were asleep; but their response was unnatural.
"They have been drugged," he said to the baron.
"By whom?"
"By him, of course, or his men under his discretion. That work
bears his stamp."
"In that case, I am lost--nothing can be done."
"Nothing," assented Ganimard.
"It is dreadful; it is monstrous."
"Lodge a complaint."
"What good will that do?"
"Oh; it is well to try it. The law has some resources."
"The law! Bah! it is useless. You represent the law, and, at
this moment, when you should be looking for a clue and trying to
discover something, you do not even stir.
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