found it there," said Firmin, and he twisted out of the millionaire's grasp.
"Just as it was three years ago," roared the millionaire, with an air of desperation. "It's exactly the same coup. Oh, what a catastrophe! What a catastrophe!"
He made as if to tear out his hair; then, remembering its scantiness, refrained.
"Now, come, it's no use losing your head," said the Duke, with quiet firmness. "If this letter isn't a hoax——"
"Hoax?" bellowed the millionaire. "Was it a hoax three years ago?"
"Very good," said the Duke. "But if this robbery with which you're threatened is genuine, it's just childish."
"How?" said the millionaire.
"Look at the date of the letter—Sunday, September the third. This letter was written to-day."
"Yes. Well, what of it?" said the millionaire.
"Look at the letter: 'I shall set about a respectful acquisition of them in your Paris house to-morrow morning '—to-morrow morning."
"Yes, yes; 'to-morrow morning'—what of it?" said the millionaire.
