"He may have escaped."

"No one ever escaped from the Sante."

"But, he---"

"He, no more than any other."

"Yet---"

"Well, if he escapes, so much the better. I will catch him again.
Meanwhile, you go home and sleep soundly. That will do for the
present. You frighten the fish."

The conversation was ended. The baron returned to the castle,
reassured to some extent by Ganimard's indifference. He examined
the bolts, watched the servants, and, during the next forty-eight
hours, he became almost persuaded that his fears were groundless.
Certainly, as Ganimard had said, thieves do not warn people they
are about to rob.

The fateful day was close at hand. It was now the twenty-sixth of
September and nothing had happened. But at three o'clock the bell
rang. A boy brought this telegram:

"No goods at Batignolles station. Prepare everything for tomorrow
night. Arsene."

This telegram threw the baron into such a state of excitement that
he even considered the advisability of yielding to Lupin's