Oh! I pledge my oath that, at that solemn moment, when I was in
the grasp of Ganimard and his two assistants, I was perfectly
indifferent to everything, to my arrest, the hostility of the
people, everything except this one question: what will Miss Nelly
do with the things I had confided to her?

In the absence of that material and conclusive proof, I had
nothing to fear; but would Miss Nelly decide to furnish that
proof? Would she betray me? Would she act the part of an enemy
who cannot forgive, or that of a woman whose scorn is softened by
feelings of indulgence and involuntary sympathy?

She passed in front of me. I said nothing, but bowed very low.
Mingled with the other passengers, she advanced to the gangway
with my kodak in her hand. It occurred to me that she would not
dare to expose me publicly, but she might do so when she reached a
more private place. However, when she had passed only a few feet
down the gangway, with a movement of simulated awkwardness, she
let the camera fall into the water between the vessel and the
pier. Then she walked down the gangway, and was quickly lost to
sight in the crowd. She had passed out of my life forever.

For a moment, I stood motionless. Then, to Ganimard's great
astonishment, I muttered:

"What a pity that I am not an honest man!"

Such was the story of his arrest as narrated to me by Arsene Lupin
himself. The various incidents, which I shall record in writing