“You are joking, Lupin.” 

 “My dear friend, if you will be so kind as to break that egg, you will learn for yourself that I am not joking.” 

 Mechanically, Ganimard obeyed, and cracked the egg-shell with the blade of a knife. He uttered a cry of surprise. The shell contained nothing but a small piece of blue paper. At the request of Arsène he unfolded it. It was a telegram, or rather a portion of a telegram from which the post-marks had been removed. It read as follows: 

 “Contract closed. Hundred thousand balls delivered. All well.” 

 “One hundred thousand balls?” said Ganimard. 

 “Yes, one hundred thousand francs. Very little, but then, you know, these are hard times....And I have some heavy bills to meet. If you only knew my budget.... living in the city comes very high.” 

 Ganimard arose. His ill humor had disappeared. He reflected for a moment, glancing over the whole affair in an effort to discover a weak point; then, in a tone and manner that betrayed his admiration of the prisoner, he said: 

 “Fortunately, we do not have a dozen such as you to deal with; if we did, we would have to close up shop.” 

 Arsène Lupin assumed a modest air, as he replied: 

 “Bah! a person must have some diversion to occupy his leisure hours, especially when he is in prison.” 

 “What!” exclaimed Ganimard, “your trial, your defense, the examination—isn’t that sufficient to occupy your mind?” 

 “No, because I have decided not to be present at my trial.” 

 “Oh! oh!” 

 Arsène Lupin repeated, positively: 

 “I shall not be present at my trial.” 

 “Really!” 

 “Ah! my dear monsieur, do you suppose I am going to rot upon the wet straw? You insult me. Arsène Lupin remains in prison just as long as it pleases him, and not one minute more.” 

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