“Who can tell? The unexpected always happens when Arsène Lupin is concerned in the affair.” 

 “Oh!” she exclaimed, with that morbid curiosity peculiar to women, “I should like to see him arrested.” 

 “You will have to be patient. No doubt, Arsène Lupin has already seen his enemy and will not be in a hurry to leave the steamer.” 

 The passengers were now leaving the steamer. Leaning on his umbrella, with an air of careless indifference, Ganimard appeared to be paying no attention to the crowd that was hurrying down the gangway. The Marquis de Raverdan, Major Rawson, the Italian Rivolta, and many others had already left the vessel before Rozaine appeared. Poor Rozaine! 

 “Perhaps it is he, after all,” said Miss Nelly to me. “What do you think?” 

 “I think it would be very interesting to have Ganimard and Rozaine in the same picture. You take the camera. I am loaded down.” 

 I gave her the camera, but too late for her to use it. Rozaine was already passing the detective. An American officer, standing behind Ganimard, leaned forward and whispered in his ear. The French detective shrugged his shoulders and Rozaine passed on. Then, my God, who was Arsène Lupin? 

 “Yes,” said Miss Nelly, aloud, “who can it be?” 

 Not more than twenty people now remained on board. She scrutinized them one by one, fearful that Arsène Lupin was not amongst them. 

 “We cannot wait much longer,” I said to her. 

 She started toward the gangway. I followed. But we had not taken ten steps when Ganimard barred our passage. 

 “Well, what is it?” I exclaimed. 

 “One moment, monsieur. What’s your hurry?” 

 “I am escorting mademoiselle.” 

 “One moment,” he repeated, in a tone of authority. Then, gazing into my eyes, he said: 

 “Arsène Lupin, is it not?” 

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