If anything could have consoled him, it would have been the stupefaction displayed by Ganimard. The famous detective did not move. 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.

“Arsène Lupin.⁠ ⁠… Arsène 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?”