Chapter 31 - White Rook
 Island X: September 29th

Zenith hated knowing that Nyctalope had tried to kill Armand the day before- and the way he preached his innocence! Armand did nothing but admire Nyctalope and in return, he had tried to kill both father and son, as well as getting Zenith himself caught in the crossfire. Zenith would have dealt with the matter long ago with a single swing of his sword cane, but alas, he was not the leader of this mission. Besides, many of the group wanted amnesty, so Robur's actions were logical.

But why? Why would Nyctalope want them dead? How could anyone be so brutal and evil with no valid reasoning? Zenith couldn't fathom it no matter what angle he looked at it. There had to be some sort of reason, no matter how insignificant it may seem. Something was missing.

Sitting by him, Zenith could still smell the heavy smoke on Armand's hair. It was a cruel reminder of how close he came to injury and death less than a day ago.

Zenith remained by Armand's bed waiting for him to wake up. He decided to read whilst the boy was sleeping. He tried to organise himself, should he end up being the one to break the news about Nyctalope. But how was Zenith meant to tell him when he could hardly believe it himself? How would the boy take it?

The rustling of material caught Zenith's attention. Glancing to the boy, he found he had awoken and was sitting up.
"How are you feeling?" the thief asked quietly.
"Better I think, thank you, monsieur," Armand replied, rubbing his eyes.

Zenith set his book aside and waited for the young boy to wake up properly.
"Where's my father?"
"Dealing with a few errands. I said I'd stay with you until he was finished."
"Oh… Well, I'm glad you're with me at least."
Zenith smiled gently. He sat straighter, close to the edge of the chair. "Can I get you anything?"

"Some water would be nice if you don't mind," Armand asked as he cleared his throat.
There was a large jug of water and an empty glass on the bedside table beside them. Zenith stood up and poured him a drink out.
"I'm glad to see you're unhurt, Armand. You've been very lucky."
"I think both of us have been lucky, sir," Armand said, taking the glass as it was carefully offered to him. Zenith knew he was referring to when he was poisoned.

The captain's son began to sip at the water. Zenith sat himself back down and waited. Once Armand's thirst was quenched he held the glass in his hands and stared down into it.
"Can I ask you a question, sir?"
"Go on."
"When you. when you were poisoned, were... Were you frightened?"
The question wasn't quite what the thief had expected and it compelled Zenith into a delayed response. He inclined his head as he answered. "Not exactly, but then again I have no fear of dying. I had little to fear, although of course I was startled."

Armand looked up to him in astonishment. "But how? How can you not fear death? How can you teach yourself to be like that?"
Zenith's calm and sober response was "I didn't teach myself." He sighed as he realised that his answer would prove to be of no use to the boy. "Armand, before we go any further into this matter, I need to know if this is about you and that fire?"

Armand looked down again, his hair covered his eyes slightly. "Yes, sir. I. It's just I panicked. I should have better than that-"
"Armand," Zenith cut in, leaning forward to catch his eye. Armand looked up into his pink eyes and pale face. "Fear of death is not a weakness. That's what keeps you fighting to stay alive. From what I've heard you actually did very well. You had sense enough to try to prolong the amount of time you had until help came. You were trapped, dear boy. There was nothing you could have done differently… Besides, you don't need to worry about that anymore. Robur and Fantômas caught who was responsible."

Armand seemed to come alive again at the news. "They did?"
Zenith nodded grimly. The animation left Armand's face and his shoulders dropped back down.
Zenith took a breath before saying "We found strong evidence that Nyctalope was responsible for the fire. He was arrested and is now locked away in the cells. He'll go to France to face the courts."

"Nyctalope…" Armand muttered. "So- so he poisoned you and tried to shoot my father as well?"
"It is believed so. The only thing we lack is a stronger alibi, though Fantômas is working on that momentarily. All the rest adds up."

Much to Zenith's surprise, Armand stayed quiet. There were no exclamations, no fits of rage, not so much as a disappointed look on his face. He just stared blankly into space, narrowing his eyebrows in confusion, struggling to digest what he had been told. The young hero had betrayed them- betrayed him. What was he expected to say?

"Armand?" Zenith pressed, needing to know how the boy was taking the news.
"I'm fine, sir. Just a… bit confused, that's all. I can't imagine why he would... well, whatever the reason, he's been caught now. That's the important thing, I suppose."
"Of course," Zenith answered quietly, not quite knowing what to say himself.

A frigid, stiff silence began to dawn on the two. Armand sighed and looked away, trying to build himself up to speak. "The fire doesn't make sense," he muttered.
"How so?" the thief asked patiently.
"The way he tried to kill me- it. it doesn't make sense. The whole thing depended on the chance I couldn't get out. If it was deliberate, why light the opposite side of my room?" Zenith arched an eyebrow as Armand continued, "Maybe I've thought too far into all this, but surely stabbing me or something would be easier?" Armand stopped himself. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't say that. It's just I've had nothing better to do all night- he probably just wanted it to look like an accident. It was by chance that the fire was found after all."

"That is actually some impressive thinking, and there is definitely something to what you say. I don't mean to startle you, but it's like he wanted you to get out- or even just felt removing the keys would mean the fire had more time."
Armand nodded, "I don't understand much of what is going on."
Zenith smiled at his honesty "Neither do I, my boy, neither do I. It's a nasty business."

Armand pushed past the tiredness that was beginning to creep up on him and, thinking back to the original topic, asked, "How do you control your fears, sir? You and my father seem to do it so well..."
Zenith leaned back in his chair and sighed, "It's not quite a simple as that, Armand. Your fears are very different from mine- besides, you're only, what, thirteen?"
"Yes, sir, fourteen in December."
"Then you have ample time to learn. I suppose you could say that you have to... channel any fear out and turn it into motivation. The hardest part is keeping your head about you. I'm afraid I cannot teach you how to remain calm. Controlling fear is something you can only master when you're in such a situation."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean."
"Hmm, think of it this way. Last night, your father was afraid- afraid of losing you. But, rather than letting the fear control him, he used it to prompt him in finding ways of saving you."
"Oh, but you make it sound like fears can be very different. Surely fear is just fear?"

In an attempt to hide his awkwardness, Zenith smirked, "But what we fear can be very different. In my case, I haven't been given the best hand of cards in this life. Death does not seem quite so bad in comparison. It would be a generous release and so I avoid getting killed- but I do not fear it."

"But what about the Mysterious Men? Surely that's something worth having now, isn't it?" Armand replied. He seemed somewhat concerned for the thief. Zenith smiled softly.
"Yes, yes, I suppose so. There's a stronger sense of belonging here, being accepted as what you truly are- though I suppose we are all outcasts here in one form or another. The Mysterious Men are more trustworthy than my previous company at any rate, or at least I thought it was."

"How did you actually end up joining Les Hommes Mysterieux, sir?" Armand wondered. "I remember I was on the ship with my father when we went for Monsieur Lupin, and the others, but you just seemed to appear one morning."
Seeing a good opportunity to drift from their current topic, Zenith grew a grin. "That was quite an interesting evening when I was a thief in England. If you would care to listen I wouldn't mind telling you?"
"Of course," Armand smiled.

Durham City, North East England: July 21st, 1899

It had been a very successful evening for the thief as he stood on the medieval stone bridge, admiring the astounding view of the cathedral and castle. The two majestic buildings stood side by side on a steep hill above the River Wear. The air was cool, which was actually nicer than Zenith expected. The North East of England had quite a reputation for unkindly weather, much more so than London. Tonight however, he was able to wait in peace, undisturbed by rain or bitter winds. He lit a cigarette with one of his matches and puffed away at it whilst he leaned against his sword cane, disguised as a vagrant with a limp.

There was very little man-made light available to him, but the moon was shining healthily down upon him from the cloudless sky. That was an ample amount of light to work with. The gentle churning of the water was soothing and the crisp air was refreshing. It made the wait for one of his men a little more pleasant.

Zenith had almost finished his cigarette when a man appeared at the end of the bridge and approached him. Zenith recognised him as Billy Smith. Smith looked at him but seemed unsure, likely because he was in disguise. Glancing at his watch, Zenith found it was five minutes past ten. He had meant to meet him twenty minutes ago.

Billy was one of his few men in the county who had helped him with his latest theft. Despite being in his early thirties, he was twig-like, yet he was fully capable of his strenuous job in the coal mines. That was how most men and boys made their money in these parts. The infamous black gold for which the men would have to risk their lives to get. It was a dangerous occupation with feeble pay, but it was better than no job at all.

Smith was a clever man, and that intelligence and knowledge of the area had been helpful. Zenith wouldn't have minded using the man's skills again. Billy's blond hair and pale face were still dirty from his shift down in the mine but that would be fixed when he got home no doubt. It was very late, so Zenith wondered why he had not cleaned himself up yet. Had he travelled to the city straight from work?

Zenith spoke up first so he knew he was talking to the right man. "You're late, Smith. It's a good thing the weather is fine."
"Sorry, sir. 'A thowt a was bein' followed," Billy explained.

Zenith drew the last bit off his cigarette, blowing the wispy smoke into the air. Now it was finished, he crushed the cigarette end with his heel. The regional accent and dialect of Durham, amused him, even if he couldn't fully understand it all of the time. The thief was getting better at making out what they said. Fortunately, Billy knew how to tone down his accent so he was more understandable.

"Followed? By who?"
Smith shrugged. "Divn't know. Just thowt I'd be sure. 'A had a queer feelin' that's all."
"That's quite alright then. We have done very well over the last few weeks thanks to you. The fortune will be shared equally."
Billy nodded, "As it should, sir."
"But bonuses are given to those who earn them."

"I wouldn't say I did out special, sir. I mean, I stopped that bloke shooting you, but anyone would do the same."
"No, they wouldn't."

Smith looked a touch bewildered but Zenith made a gesture for him to wait as he put his sword stick in the other hand. Then, he slipped his hand into his pocket. After a moment, Zenith took out a small object wrapped in a piece of cloth. He removed the cloth to reveal a necklace, laced with about eight red gemstones- rubies, and several diamonds which rested on a piece of paper. Now Smith really was surprised, though he also seemed weary.

"Now, I want you to take this to the address written on that piece of paper. You can avoid the police that way. I'd accept no less than-" Zenith leaned forward and whispered a figure into his ear. Smith was stunned.
"Are. Are yer, sure, sir? That's more money than I'd make in me whole life..."
"I'm well aware of its value to you. It's your rightful pay, a bonus to your normal pay, and you have a sick child to care for; you've earned it," Zenith replied. Zenith wrapped the necklace back up and Smith took the small package gingerly, despite his clear joy in his payment.

"That. that's champion, that is, sir. Honestly, I cannit thank you enough. Do you need 'iz for anything else?"
"That's all. Go on, get yourself home," the thief smiled with a nod. With a touch of his cap, Smith hurried off back home, knowing all debts and payments had been settled.

Zenith started the short walk along the river and back to his rented room, humming to himself as he did. His cane seemed to shatter the silence every time it hit the ground. The trees at either side of the water concealed Zenith from the moonlight. He was sure to maintain his fake hobble as he walked

He thought back to the theft he had conducted only a day beforehand. They had robbed the owner of the coalmine Smith used to work in, as he was particularly 'well off' as Smith would describe it. The owner had recently married a particularly wealthy woman, which was where the jewellery had come from. Zenith and his gang had taken mainly that jewellery, though there were several other articles of interest which had been stolen. The pieces would be sold and distributed to his men, his own League. In the meanwhile, he would be off to France on other business.

Zenith could feel the temperature gradually lowering as the clock hands neared midnight. He was keen to get home and get some sleep. It had been a long day and he expected that tomorrow would be even longer.

After half an hour of peaceful walking, Zenith was at the sturdy wooden door of his rented flat. He yawned as he turned the key in the lock, though he paused once he had regained his composure. He crouched down to examine the lock. There were multiple little scratches, which he could not remember being there. The door had definitely been locked when Zenith turned the key just then so he didn't expect anyone to be inside. All the same, he felt dreadfully uneasy. Smith's previous mention of being followed, along with the scratches was enough to raise a warning flag.

"I must have scratched it earlier," Zenith muttered, trying not to let his imagination run away from him. The thief opened the door cautiously, bringing his hand which held his stick closer to his body. None of the lights were on and he remained in absolute darkness. There was no surprise attack, no ambush- only silence.

Taking a match from his pocket, he struck it against the door frame. He then proceeded to find and light a candle that was waiting for him on a little table. With a now constant light piercing the darkness, Zenith shut the door. He debated on locking it, but opted to leave it, for now, should he need a quick getaway.

Candle in one hand, stick in the other, Zenith searched every room. The thief didn't bother to light any more lamps or candles. There were only three rooms to check. He looked under tables, checked his bed, and looked in his wardrobe. The windows were all still closed. Nothing was missing or so much as touched. Each room was simply full of empty silence. No one was here. That was when Zenith was able to finally settle and it was only then that the thief went back downstairs to lock the door.

By now it was very late and Zenith decided it was time to go to bed. He removed his disguise and got himself ready in between yawns. He climbed into bed, pulling the blanket up to his chest. Turning on his side, he extinguished the candle that he had carried around with him since he had entered the house. It didn't take the thief long to fall into a much-needed sleep.

Zenith found himself awake again, though he didn't quite understand why. How long had passed? As his memories of unease came back to him he sat up in his bed. He stared hard into impenetrable darkness. He couldn't even make out a shadow. The room seemed to hum with a murky silence. In the natural quiet of the night, he felt he could hear the air whispering a warning to him.

The thief waited for a long while. He sat, unmoving, bracing himself for whatever was to come. It was impossible for him to separate imagination from fact. His thoughts were already tainted with the creativeness of his mind which could not easily be undone. Another few minutes passed and Zenith found himself to be overwhelmed by tiredness. There was nothing in his temporary accommodation but why was he so nervous?

"A drunkard," he grumbled.

He forced all thoughts aside, knowing fine well that he was being foolish. Who, if anyone would be after him? It wasn't the police. They couldn't sneak up on a tree, let alone him. There was no way that Sexton Blake would know where he was- and even if he did know, he wouldn't have been able to catch up to him. There was no one else. No one knew he was in Durham; he was surely safe.

With a sigh, Zenith got out of bed, deciding he needed a drink as his dry throat made itself known.
"I need weaker cigarettes," he muttered to himself, noting the potency of the opium within them.
His eyes were beginning to sting with tiredness. Zenith swore to himself that he would go to bed afterwards and pay his ridiculous imagination no more attention. It was too late in the night to be worrying about such petty things.

Zenith hardly made it into the kitchen.

The thief went downstairs and passed through the doorway, into the larger room.
" Bon soir, Monsieur ," a deep voice said.

It hadn't been Zenith's imagination at all- someone was in his house! Zenith shouted and moved towards the man in an effort to attack him but an arm suddenly wrapped around his neck from behind. He felt them pull down hard. Zenith staggered forwards as he struggled to resist being wrestled to the ground. Whoever it was seemed to be working on trying to make him stay in the kitchen.

"Calm yourself, Monsieur. We are only here to talk. Stop your fighting and I will release you. I can't have you striking my friend here," the man holding him said.
Adrenaline seemed to blur his thoughts. Instinct drove him to shout for help, but a hand clamped onto his mouth and stopped him from making any understandable noise.
"Hush," he warned.

Zenith tried shaking his head to dislodge the man but it was impossible due to his grip. Why had he decided against bringing his cane? Terrified of falling captive, he looked around for a weapon. Through the moonlight that pierced through the kitchen window, he saw a knife on the bench on the far side of the room. If only he could get to it!

In a desperate burst of energy, he once more tried to dislodge the man that held him with such vigour. Zenith pulled his attacker's arm away from his mouth, but the grip on his neck tightened as his forearm pressed into his throat. Shouting was not an option. He couldn't breathe. Doubled over and running out of time, he dragged both himself and the extra weight he was carrying as he tried to reach for the knife.

As the two struggled, they knocked over the kitchen chairs. Zenith inched closer and closer to the knife, his attacker seemed to realise his intentions of what he wanted to get. The attacker let go for a moment, but a sudden hand on his ankle and the back of his leg, with a shoulder pushing him just below the knee, made him fall over, forced onto his back. He remained empty-handed.

Zenith rolled onto his front and dived towards the stranger as he tried to get up, fists ready to fly. His first swing missed and much to his surprise the man grabbed his arm, yanking him closer. Zenith ended up between his legs as the man lay on his back. Zenith was on his knees but unable to pull away, he couldn't! The man wrapped his legs around his waist and locked them at the ankles. Zenith knew he was in trouble, this was Ju-Jitsu- and he'd fallen right into his little trap.

Zenith tried to pull away as the man swung his leg around his head and managed to tuck the back of his knee underneath Zenith's chin. The man then used that leg to push and roll Zenith onto his back, but he did not let go of his arm. That was it. He had him stuck.

Zenith was lying on his side and was held in that position by the foot wedged under his back and the man's other leg that was over his neck, stopping him from sitting up. Zenith's arm, thumb facing up, was outstretched in between the man's legs. He held onto him firmly.
"Do I have the pleasure of addressing Monsieur Zenith?" the man remarked.
"Release me!" Zenith tried to fight to free his hand.

Within an instant, Zenith felt like he was threatening to break his entire arm. The man had simply raised his hips and pulled down on his arm. It burned for all there wasn't so much as a mark on him. He was stuck and very uncomfortable.

"Let go of me!" Zenith shouted as he tried to get up. The pain intensified, making him hiss.
"Silence, Zenith. We're not here to hurt you," the stranger grunted as he struggled to hold him. "Give it up- we're not with the law."
"I don't care who you are or why you're here. Get out of my house!"
"Monsieur, I expect you are well aware of the pain in your arm. This is an arm bar and if you do not calm I will be forced to make that feeling of discomfort much worse."
Zenith did what he could to save himself, and that did not exclude nipping.

"Ow! Robur, come let us have some light and then I need the ropes," his attacker instructed quietly. "Calm, Monsieur, and I will loosen my grip. I only want a word."
Zenith made out the second man working in the darkness and hoped he could free himself before he finished lighting up the room. There had to be a way out of this!

He could not stop squirming, nipping and fighting. He did not trust these men and compliance risked everything. Yet the more he battled the more he understood its fruitlessness. The man was able to get a wrist lock on his already restrained hand, drawing a yelp from him.
"I won't ask again, Zenith. You bring this upon yourself, you know? Stop struggling."

The light stung his eyes. Zenith knew of no one bearing the name Robur and the thief had no intentions of finding out who he was. If only he could get this wretched man to let go!

His struggle began to get more vocal as his frustration grew. He tried to push the man's leg off his neck but his hand was dragged away and a gag tied by Robur immediately limited his chances of calling for help. He tried to use a sudden surge of power to free himself, but the man anticipated such. The pain increased more than ever, from the top to the bottom of his arm. Zenith shouted with the pain.

"Rope, Robur, quickly."

Zenith lay on the ground helpless as his trapped hand was wrapped up two or three times with rope and knotted. The first man sat up, releasing the wrist lock but not letting go of his arm. By moving most of the pain stopped, which felt to be a great relief. Now he could do more at least.

From there he was rolled onto his back. Zenith yanked his arm away but the man held onto the rope that bound him, dragging his hand towards the small of his back. He tried to stand and get away but Robur knelt on his back. With an "oof", Zenith plopped down to the ground. After that, it was easy for them to catch his other hand and bind them behind his back.

Exhausted, and defeated, Zenith tested the rope's strength and found he couldn't break out or even unpick it. This was a professional binding. There was nothing to be done- he was finally left at their mercy. He was finished, done for, vanquished. His stomach lurched.

The men stepped away from him for a moment, which enabled Zenith to roll onto his side. A few minutes passed in silence as the two of them caught their breath. Zenith looked towards his attackers. One had their back to him, but the other was a man of strong build with grey hair and an American goatee. Zenith was sure he was the one called Robur. The thief watched as he picked up the two chairs, putting them back on their feet and sat down in one of them.

"Well, that was more painful than I thought. A thousand apologies, Monsieur Zenith, but we need to speak with you," the first man remarked, rubbing the back of his leg where he'd been nipped as he turned to face him. In the rather dim light, Zenith could see he was, at first glance, your average looking gentleman, with raven black hair and a handsome face. Zenith grunted in annoyance and sat up, trying to wiggle out of his bindings or at least escape the gag.

The youngest man helped Zenith onto his feet at which the thief tried to snatch himself out of his grip. He refused to give up when he had an opportunity to test his luck. The man reached out and grabbed him by his pyjama shirt.
"Don't bother yourself, monsieur. You did bring this upon yourself," the stranger sighed, almost as if disappointed. "You know you enjoy the mystery. Will you sit down?"

He had to roughly guide the albino into the spare seat. "Come, a wee bit of string around the arms to save me anymore trouble. There we are, not so bad, is it? By Jove we're agreeing like old friends," he grinned. Zenith shouted through his gag in protest but the new rope around the arms secured him to the chair. The cheek of him!

"Will you stop aggravating him? The situation is bad enough as it is," Robur warned the younger man.
He smirked to himself, "My apologies."
Zenith didn't know whether to be anxious or not with the two men's attitudes. He looked back and forth between the two with an arched eyebrow, waiting to see what happened next.

"Here is my first offer, Monsieur. I will take that gag off if you comply to not cry out. If you shout, it goes back on and you won't have it removed again. I suggest you use that freedom to ask whatever questions you want to know the answer to. Does that sound fair to you? Good, now hold still," the younger man explained.
He moved behind him and began to loosen the knot at the back of his head. Zenith was in a foul mood and when he saw the opportunity to kick his attacker, he did not let it go to waste. As soon as the gag was removed, he drove his heel back as hard as he could in the man's leg. He yapped as the pain hit him.

"By Jupiter, that was a good kick! Was that really necessary, Monsieur?"
"That was for trying to break my arm. You mean no harm indeed!" Zenith muttered with a cough as the stranger backed away and rubbed his shin vigorously.
"As I have said, you brought that upon yourself. I gave you every opportunity to de-escalate the situation."

Zenith shook his head and turned his attention to Robur. Robur leaned an elbow against the table and hid a small smirk behind his half clenched hand, but despite that, Zenith sensed that things were to become serious now.

"Monsieur Zenith, we came here on behalf of the French Government who require your services," Robur said, moving his hand away.
"I'm not interested," Zenith answered bluntly, even now trying to figure a way out of the ropes that bound him. His fingers worked to find something of use.

Robur said, "On the contrary, I believe you will find what we have to say to be most interesting."
"I suppose I have no choice but to listen. I'd much have prefered you to leave this until the morning. Before you tell me any more about this nonsense, I want to know who the pair of you are and why you decided that the best way to talk to me was by grabbing me in the middle of the night."
The older gentleman spoke up first with an incline of his head "Captain Jean Robur."

The second man, now able to tolerate the pain in his shin said "It was my idea to come here tonight in this manner, Monsieur. You would not have come quietly even if I knocked on your door. We arrived here late and we couldn't afford to lose you and have to chase you around the globe. As for who I am, I expect you have heard of me, though you don't know my face belongs to the name; I am Arsène Lupin."

Zenith looked at him in disbelief. "The Arsène Lupin, or someone bearing the same name as the thief?" he queried.
Lupin bowed down. He answered "The one and only. Do you have any more questions?"
"If I misunderstand anything after your explanation, I will say so," he answered.

He felt safer in believing what the men said to be true. If this was Lupin, then he had nothing to fear… hopefully. Embarrassment was quite another thing. Here he was bound to a chair wearing his pyjamas in front of one of the greatest thieves in the world… it certainly wasn't his finest hour but he held up his head all the same.

Robur caught his attention. "The threat of war is hanging in the air and the government has requested that Lupin and I produce a group of the world's finest and smartest men to form a team. However, men who meet these criteria are- more often than not- criminals, at least so far that is. Zenith, we have selected you to join this team we are acquiring."

"Would I have to do this out of the good of my heart or is there a reward for my services?" Zenith asked.
"There is a financial reward at the end, yes. It is both money and, although you mostly cause trouble in England, promised amnesty in France- unless you begin stealing again, in which case your amnesty is forfeited," Lupin replied. "There are… other things, that you may find more of interest?"

"Such as?" Zenith furrowed his brow.
"There are individuals in the French Government who… how do I put this? Know about your past… your majesty. They wish to expose you to the public."
Zenith ground his teeth together. "Do not call me that ever again!" he seethed.
Lupin inclined his head. "I understand. Those in charge of this operation have agreed to destroy that file, and your secrets can be kept safe."

Zenith took a deep breath and calmed himself. How deep of a hole did he have to dig to hide his past?! "It sounds too good to be true, which means it probably is. What's the catch and for how long would I be in this group?"
Robur answered "Timings can vary. It's a matter of coming to us when we contact you. Our first mission should be finished by the new year if we plan thoroughly. There is no real catch. You can decline any mission and wait for the next one if there's a valid excuse but be warned that once you are in a mission, there is no going back. We must see it through."

"Hmm… and the chances of death?"
"Unlikely provided you do as you're told," Robur reported.
"Well that's good enough for me I suppose. I'd like something official to prove all of this, however, and I don't mean something Lupin has forged, pardon my saying."
"If you want such proof you'll have to come with us in the morning," Lupin pointed out.

"I am not agreeing to any of this yet, but I must say you have-" he looked down at his bindings, "captured my interest. I'm going to France tomorrow anyway," Zenith admitted.
"I'll have someone pick you up at ten tomorrow," Robur said.
Zenith yawned. "Very well… Now, would you be so kind as to untie me? I would like to go back to bed."