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diff --git a/6133-0.txt b/6133-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..543c34e --- /dev/null +++ b/6133-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7814 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Burglar, by Maurice Leblanc + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Burglar + +Author: Maurice Leblanc + +Release Date: November 17, 2002 [eBook #6133] +[Most recently updated: April 8, 2023] + +Language: English + +Produced by: Nathan J. Miller and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES OF ARSÈNE LUPIN *** + + + + +The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, +Gentleman-burglar + +By Maurice Leblanc + + +Translated from the French +By George Morehead + + + + + Table of Contents: + + I. The Arrest of Arsène Lupin + II. Arsène Lupin in Prison + III. The Escape of Arsène Lupin + IV. The Mysterious Traveller + V. The Queen’s Necklace + VI. The Seven of Hearts + VII. Madame Imbert’s Safe + VIII. The Black Pearl + IX. Sherlock Holmes Arrives Too Late + + + + + +I. The Arrest of Arsène Lupin + + +It was a strange ending to a voyage that had commenced in a most +auspicious manner. The transatlantic steamship ‘La Provence’ was a swift +and comfortable vessel, under the command of a most affable man. The +passengers constituted a select and delightful society. The charm of +new acquaintances and improvised amusements served to make the time pass +agreeably. We enjoyed the pleasant sensation of being separated from +the world, living, as it were, upon an unknown island, and consequently +obliged to be sociable with each other. + +Have you ever stopped to consider how much originality and spontaneity +emanate from these various individuals who, on the preceding evening, +did not even know each other, and who are now, for several days, +condemned to lead a life of extreme intimacy, jointly defying the anger +of the ocean, the terrible onslaught of the waves, the violence of the +tempest and the agonizing monotony of the calm and sleepy water? Such +a life becomes a sort of tragic existence, with its storms and its +grandeurs, its monotony and its diversity; and that is why, perhaps, +we embark upon that short voyage with mingled feelings of pleasure and +fear. + +But, during the past few years, a new sensation had been added to the +life of the transatlantic traveler. The little floating island is now +attached to the world from which it was once quite free. A bond united +them, even in the very heart of the watery wastes of the Atlantic. That +bond is the wireless telegraph, by means of which we receive news in +the most mysterious manner. We know full well that the message is not +transported by the medium of a hollow wire. No, the mystery is even more +inexplicable, more romantic, and we must have recourse to the wings of +the air in order to explain this new miracle. During the first day of +the voyage, we felt that we were being followed, escorted, preceded +even, by that distant voice, which, from time to time, whispered to one +of us a few words from the receding world. Two friends spoke to me. Ten, +twenty others sent gay or somber words of parting to other passengers. + +On the second day, at a distance of five hundred miles from the French +coast, in the midst of a violent storm, we received the following +message by means of the wireless telegraph: + +“Arsène Lupin is on your vessel, first cabin, blonde hair, wound right +fore-arm, traveling alone under name of R........” + +At that moment, a terrible flash of lightning rent the stormy skies. +The electric waves were interrupted. The remainder of the dispatch never +reached us. Of the name under which Arsène Lupin was concealing himself, +we knew only the initial. + +If the news had been of some other character, I have no doubt that the +secret would have been carefully guarded by the telegraphic operator as +well as by the officers of the vessel. But it was one of those events +calculated to escape from the most rigorous discretion. The same day, no +one knew how, the incident became a matter of current gossip and every +passenger was aware that the famous Arsène Lupin was hiding in our +midst. + +Arsène Lupin in our midst! the irresponsible burglar whose exploits +had been narrated in all the newspapers during the past few months! the +mysterious individual with whom Ganimard, our shrewdest detective, +had been engaged in an implacable conflict amidst interesting and +picturesque surroundings. Arsène Lupin, the eccentric gentleman who +operates only in the châteaux and salons, and who, one night, entered +the residence of Baron Schormann, but emerged empty-handed, leaving, +however, his card on which he had scribbled these words: “Arsène Lupin, +gentleman-burglar, will return when the furniture is genuine.” Arsène +Lupin, the man of a thousand disguises: in turn a chauffer, detective, +bookmaker, Russian physician, Spanish bull-fighter, commercial traveler, +robust youth, or decrepit old man. + +Then consider this startling situation: Arsène Lupin was wandering about +within the limited bounds of a transatlantic steamer; in that very small +corner of the world, in that dining saloon, in that smoking room, in +that music room! Arsène Lupin was, perhaps, this gentleman.... or that +one.... my neighbor at the table.... the sharer of my stateroom.... + +“And this condition of affairs will last for five days!” exclaimed Miss +Nelly Underdown, next morning. “It is unbearable! I hope he will be +arrested.” + +Then, addressing me, she added: + +“And you, Monsieur d’Andrézy, you are on intimate terms with the +captain; surely you know something?” + +I should have been delighted had I possessed any information that would +interest Miss Nelly. She was one of those magnificent creatures who +inevitably attract attention in every assembly. Wealth and beauty form +an irresistible combination, and Nelly possessed both. + +Educated in Paris under the care of a French mother, she was now going +to visit her father, the millionaire Underdown of Chicago. She was +accompanied by one of her friends, Lady Jerland. + +At first, I had decided to open a flirtation with her; but, in the +rapidly growing intimacy of the voyage, I was soon impressed by her +charming manner and my feelings became too deep and reverential for a +mere flirtation. Moreover, she accepted my attentions with a certain +degree of favor. She condescended to laugh at my witticisms and display +an interest in my stories. Yet I felt that I had a rival in the person +of a young man with quiet and refined tastes; and it struck me, at +times, that she preferred his taciturn humor to my Parisian frivolity. +He formed one in the circle of admirers that surrounded Miss Nelly +at the time she addressed to me the foregoing question. We were all +comfortably seated in our deck-chairs. The storm of the preceding +evening had cleared the sky. The weather was now delightful. + +“I have no definite knowledge, mademoiselle,” I replied, “but can not +we, ourselves, investigate the mystery quite as well as the detective +Ganimard, the personal enemy of Arsène Lupin?” + +“Oh! oh! you are progressing very fast, monsieur.” + +“Not at all, mademoiselle. In the first place, let me ask, do you find +the problem a complicated one?” + +“Very complicated.” + +“Have you forgotten the key we hold for the solution to the problem?” + +“What key?” + +“In the first place, Lupin calls himself Monsieur R-------.” + +“Rather vague information,” she replied. + +“Secondly, he is traveling alone.” + +“Does that help you?” she asked. + +“Thirdly, he is blonde.” + +“Well?” + +“Then we have only to peruse the passenger-list, and proceed by process +of elimination.” + +I had that list in my pocket. I took it out and glanced through it. Then +I remarked: + +“I find that there are only thirteen men on the passenger-list whose +names begin with the letter R.” + +“Only thirteen?” + +“Yes, in the first cabin. And of those thirteen, I find that nine of +them are accompanied by women, children or servants. That leaves only +four who are traveling alone. First, the Marquis de Raverdan----” + +“Secretary to the American Ambassador,” interrupted Miss Nelly. “I know +him.” + +“Major Rawson,” I continued. + +“He is my uncle,” some one said. + +“Mon. Rivolta.” + +“Here!” exclaimed an Italian, whose face was concealed beneath a heavy +black beard. + +Miss Nelly burst into laughter, and exclaimed: “That gentleman can +scarcely be called a blonde.” + +“Very well, then,” I said, “we are forced to the conclusion that the +guilty party is the last one on the list.” + +“What is his name?” + +“Mon. Rozaine. Does anyone know him?” + +No one answered. But Miss Nelly turned to the taciturn young man, whose +attentions to her had annoyed me, and said: + +“Well, Monsieur Rozaine, why do you not answer?” + +All eyes were now turned upon him. He was a blonde. I must confess +that I myself felt a shock of surprise, and the profound silence that +followed her question indicated that the others present also viewed +the situation with a feeling of sudden alarm. However, the idea was an +absurd one, because the gentleman in question presented an air of the +most perfect innocence. + +“Why do I not answer?” he said. “Because, considering my name, my +position as a solitary traveler and the color of my hair, I have already +reached the same conclusion, and now think that I should be arrested.” + +He presented a strange appearance as he uttered these words. His thin +lips were drawn closer than usual and his face was ghastly pale, whilst +his eyes were streaked with blood. Of course, he was joking, yet his +appearance and attitude impressed us strangely. + +“But you have not the wound?” said Miss Nelly, naively. + +“That is true,” he replied, “I lack the wound.” + +Then he pulled up his sleeve, removing his cuff, and showed us his arm. +But that action did not deceive me. He had shown us his left arm, and +I was on the point of calling his attention to the fact, when another +incident diverted our attention. Lady Jerland, Miss Nelly’s friend, came +running towards us in a state of great excitement, exclaiming: + +“My jewels, my pearls! Some one has stolen them all!” + +No, they were not all gone, as we soon found out. The thief had taken +only part of them; a very curious thing. Of the diamond sunbursts, +jeweled pendants, bracelets and necklaces, the thief had taken, not +the largest but the finest and most valuable stones. The mountings were +lying upon the table. I saw them there, despoiled of their jewels, like +flowers from which the beautiful colored petals had been ruthlessly +plucked. And this theft must have been committed at the time Lady +Jerland was taking her tea; in broad daylight, in a stateroom opening +on a much frequented corridor; moreover, the thief had been obliged to +force open the door of the stateroom, search for the jewel-case, which +was hidden at the bottom of a hat-box, open it, select his booty and +remove it from the mountings. + +Of course, all the passengers instantly reached the same conclusion; it +was the work of Arsène Lupin. + +That day, at the dinner table, the seats to the right and left of +Rozaine remained vacant; and, during the evening, it was rumored that +the captain had placed him under arrest, which information produced a +feeling of safety and relief. We breathed once more. That evening, we +resumed our games and dances. Miss Nelly, especially, displayed a spirit +of thoughtless gayety which convinced me that if Rozaine’s attentions +had been agreeable to her in the beginning, she had already forgotten +them. Her charm and good-humor completed my conquest. At midnight, under +a bright moon, I declared my devotion with an ardor that did not seem to +displease her. + +But, next day, to our general amazement, Rozaine was at liberty. +We learned that the evidence against him was not sufficient. He had +produced documents that were perfectly regular, which showed that he +was the son of a wealthy merchant of Bordeaux. Besides, his arms did not +bear the slightest trace of a wound. + +“Documents! Certificates of birth!” exclaimed the enemies of Rozaine, +“of course, Arsène Lupin will furnish you as many as you desire. And as +to the wound, he never had it, or he has removed it.” + +Then it was proven that, at the time of the theft, Rozaine was +promenading on the deck. To which fact, his enemies replied that a man +like Arsène Lupin could commit a crime without being actually present. +And then, apart from all other circumstances, there remained one point +which even the most skeptical could not answer: Who except Rozaine, was +traveling alone, was a blonde, and bore a name beginning with R? To whom +did the telegram point, if it were not Rozaine? + +And when Rozaine, a few minutes before breakfast, came boldly toward our +group, Miss Nelly and Lady Jerland arose and walked away. + +An hour later, a manuscript circular was passed from hand to hand +amongst the sailors, the stewards, and the passengers of all classes. +It announced that Mon. Louis Rozaine offered a reward of ten thousand +francs for the discovery of Arsène Lupin or other person in possession +of the stolen jewels. + +“And if no one assists me, I will unmask the scoundrel myself,” declared +Rozaine. + +Rozaine against Arsène Lupin, or rather, according to current opinion, +Arsène Lupin himself against Arsène Lupin; the contest promised to be +interesting. + +Nothing developed during the next two days. We saw Rozaine wandering +about, day and night, searching, questioning, investigating. The +captain, also, displayed commendable activity. He caused the vessel to +be searched from stem to stern; ransacked every stateroom under the +plausible theory that the jewels might be concealed anywhere, except in +the thief’s own room. + +“I suppose they will find out something soon,” remarked Miss Nelly to +me. “He may be a wizard, but he cannot make diamonds and pearls become +invisible.” + +“Certainly not,” I replied, “but he should examine the lining of our +hats and vests and everything we carry with us.” + +Then, exhibiting my Kodak, a 9x12 with which I had been photographing +her in various poses, I added: “In an apparatus no larger than that, a +person could hide all of Lady Jerland’s jewels. He could pretend to take +pictures and no one would suspect the game.” + +“But I have heard it said that every thief leaves some clue behind him.” + +“That may be generally true,” I replied, “but there is one exception: +Arsène Lupin.” + +“Why?” + +“Because he concentrates his thoughts not only on the theft, but on all +the circumstances connected with it that could serve as a clue to his +identity.” + +“A few days ago, you were more confident.” + +“Yes, but since then I have seen him at work.” + +“And what do you think about it now?” she asked. + +“Well, in my opinion, we are wasting our time.” + +And, as a matter of fact, the investigation had produced no result. But, +in the meantime, the captain’s watch had been stolen. He was furious. He +quickened his efforts and watched Rozaine more closely than before. But, +on the following day, the watch was found in the second officer’s collar +box. + +This incident caused considerable astonishment, and displayed the +humorous side of Arsène Lupin, burglar though he was, but dilettante as +well. He combined business with pleasure. He reminded us of the +author who almost died in a fit of laughter provoked by his own play. +Certainly, he was an artist in his particular line of work, and whenever +I saw Rozaine, gloomy and reserved, and thought of the double role that +he was playing, I accorded him a certain measure of admiration. + +On the following evening, the officer on deck duty heard groans +emanating from the darkest corner of the ship. He approached and found a +man lying there, his head enveloped in a thick gray scarf and his hands +tied together with a heavy cord. It was Rozaine. He had been assaulted, +thrown down and robbed. A card, pinned to his coat, bore these words: +“Arsène Lupin accepts with pleasure the ten thousand francs offered by +Mon. Rozaine.” As a matter of fact, the stolen pocket-book contained +twenty thousand francs. + +Of course, some accused the unfortunate man of having simulated this +attack on himself. But, apart from the fact that he could not have bound +himself in that manner, it was established that the writing on the +card was entirely different from that of Rozaine, but, on the contrary, +resembled the handwriting of Arsène Lupin as it was reproduced in an old +newspaper found on board. + +Thus it appeared that Rozaine was not Arsène Lupin; but was Rozaine, the +son of a Bordeaux merchant. And the presence of Arsène Lupin was once +more affirmed, and that in a most alarming manner. + +Such was the state of terror amongst the passengers that none would +remain alone in a stateroom or wander singly in unfrequented parts of +the vessel. We clung together as a matter of safety. And yet the most +intimate acquaintances were estranged by a mutual feeling of distrust. +Arsène Lupin was, now, anybody and everybody. Our excited imaginations +attributed to him miraculous and unlimited power. We supposed him +capable of assuming the most unexpected disguises; of being, by turns, +the highly respectable Major Rawson or the noble Marquis de Raverdan, +or even--for we no longer stopped with the accusing letter of R--or even +such or such a person well known to all of us, and having wife, children +and servants. + +The first wireless dispatches from America brought no news; at +least, the captain did not communicate any to us. The silence was not +reassuring. + +Our last day on the steamer seemed interminable. We lived in constant +fear of some disaster. This time, it would not be a simple theft or a +comparatively harmless assault; it would be a crime, a murder. No one +imagined that Arsène Lupin would confine himself to those two trifling +offenses. Absolute master of the ship, the authorities powerless, he +could do whatever he pleased; our property and lives were at his mercy. + +Yet those were delightful hours for me, since they secured to me the +confidence of Miss Nelly. Deeply moved by those startling events and +being of a highly nervous nature, she spontaneously sought at my side +a protection and security that I was pleased to give her. Inwardly, I +blessed Arsène Lupin. Had he not been the means of bringing me and +Miss Nelly closer to each other? Thanks to him, I could now indulge in +delicious dreams of love and happiness--dreams that, I felt, were not +unwelcome to Miss Nelly. Her smiling eyes authorized me to make them; +the softness of her voice bade me hope. + +As we approached the American shore, the active search for the thief was +apparently abandoned, and we were anxiously awaiting the supreme moment +in which the mysterious enigma would be explained. Who was Arsène +Lupin? Under what name, under what disguise was the famous Arsène Lupin +concealing himself? And, at last, that supreme moment arrived. If I live +one hundred years, I shall not forget the slightest details of it. + +“How pale you are, Miss Nelly,” I said to my companion, as she leaned +upon my arm, almost fainting. + +“And you!” she replied, “ah! you are so changed.” + +“Just think! this is a most exciting moment, and I am delighted to +spend it with you, Miss Nelly. I hope that your memory will sometimes +revert---” + +But she was not listening. She was nervous and excited. The gangway was +placed in position, but, before we could use it, the uniformed customs +officers came on board. Miss Nelly murmured: + +“I shouldn’t be surprised to hear that Arsène Lupin escaped from the +vessel during the voyage.” + +“Perhaps he preferred death to dishonor, and plunged into the Atlantic +rather than be arrested.” + +“Oh, do not laugh,” she said. + +Suddenly I started, and, in answer to her question, I said: + +“Do you see that little old man standing at the bottom of the gangway?” + +“With an umbrella and an olive-green coat?” + +“It is Ganimard.” + +“Ganimard?” + +“Yes, the celebrated detective who has sworn to capture Arsène Lupin. +Ah! I can understand now why we did not receive any news from this side +of the Atlantic. Ganimard was here! and he always keeps his business +secret.” + +“Then you think he will arrest Arsène Lupin?” + +“Who can tell? The unexpected always happens when Arsène Lupin is +concerned in the affair.” + +“Oh!” she exclaimed, with that morbid curiosity peculiar to women, “I +should like to see him arrested.” + +“You will have to be patient. No doubt, Arsène Lupin has already seen +his enemy and will not be in a hurry to leave the steamer.” + +The passengers were now leaving the steamer. Leaning on his umbrella, +with an air of careless indifference, Ganimard appeared to be paying no +attention to the crowd that was hurrying down the gangway. The Marquis +de Raverdan, Major Rawson, the Italian Rivolta, and many others had +already left the vessel before Rozaine appeared. Poor Rozaine! + +“Perhaps it is he, after all,” said Miss Nelly to me. “What do you +think?” + +“I think it would be very interesting to have Ganimard and Rozaine in +the same picture. You take the camera. I am loaded down.” + +I gave her the camera, but too late for her to use it. Rozaine was +already passing the detective. An American officer, standing behind +Ganimard, leaned forward and whispered in his ear. The French detective +shrugged his shoulders and Rozaine passed on. Then, my God, who was +Arsène Lupin? + +“Yes,” said Miss Nelly, aloud, “who can it be?” + +Not more than twenty people now remained on board. She scrutinized them +one by one, fearful that Arsène Lupin was not amongst them. + +“We cannot wait much longer,” I said to her. + +She started toward the gangway. I followed. But we had not taken ten +steps when Ganimard barred our passage. + +“Well, what is it?” I exclaimed. + +“One moment, monsieur. What’s your hurry?” + +“I am escorting mademoiselle.” + +“One moment,” he repeated, in a tone of authority. Then, gazing into my +eyes, he said: + +“Arsène Lupin, is it not?” + +I laughed, and replied: “No, simply Bernard d’Andrézy.” + +“Bernard d’Andrézy died in Macedonia three years ago.” + +“If Bernard d’Andrézy were dead, I should not be here. But you are +mistaken. Here are my papers.” + +“They are his; and I can tell you exactly how they came into your +possession.” + +“You are a fool!” I exclaimed. “Arsène Lupin sailed under the name of +R---” + +“Yes, another of your tricks; a false scent that deceived them at Havre. +You play a good game, my boy, but this time luck is against you.” + +I hesitated a moment. Then he hit me a sharp blow on the right arm, +which caused me to utter a cry of pain. He had struck the wound, yet +unhealed, referred to in the telegram. + +I was obliged to surrender. There was no alternative. I turned to Miss +Nelly, who had heard everything. Our eyes met; then she glanced at the +Kodak I had placed in her hands, and made a gesture that conveyed to me +the impression that she understood everything. Yes, there, between the +narrow folds of black leather, in the hollow centre of the small object +that I had taken the precaution to place in her hands before Ganimard +arrested me, it was there I had deposited Rozaine’s twenty thousand +francs and Lady Jerland’s pearls and diamonds. + +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 Arsène Lupin +himself. The various incidents, which I shall record in writing at a +later day, have established between us certain ties.... shall I say of +friendship? Yes, I venture to believe that Arsène Lupin honors me with +his friendship, and that it is through friendship that he occasionally +calls on me, and brings, into the silence of my library, his youthful +exuberance of spirits, the contagion of his enthusiasm, and the mirth of +a man for whom destiny has naught but favors and smiles. + +His portrait? How can I describe him? I have seen him twenty times and +each time he was a different person; even he himself said to me on one +occasion: “I no longer know who I am. I cannot recognize myself in the +mirror.” Certainly, he was a great actor, and possessed a marvelous +faculty for disguising himself. Without the slightest effort, he could +adopt the voice, gestures and mannerisms of another person. + +“Why,” said he, “why should I retain a definite form and feature? Why +not avoid the danger of a personality that is ever the same? My actions +will serve to identify me.” + +Then he added, with a touch of pride: + +“So much the better if no one can ever say with absolute certainty: +There is Arsène Lupin! The essential point is that the public may be +able to refer to my work and say, without fear of mistake: Arsène Lupin +did that!” + + + + +II. Arsène Lupin in Prison + + +There is no tourist worthy of the name who does not know the banks of +the Seine, and has not noticed, in passing, the little feudal castle of +the Malaquis, built upon a rock in the centre of the river. An arched +bridge connects it with the shore. All around it, the calm waters of the +great river play peacefully amongst the reeds, and the wagtails flutter +over the moist crests of the stones. + +The history of the Malaquis castle is stormy like its name, harsh like +its outlines. It has passed through a long series of combats, sieges, +assaults, rapines and massacres. A recital of the crimes that have been +committed there would cause the stoutest heart to tremble. There are +many mysterious legends connected with the castle, and they tell us of +a famous subterranean tunnel that formerly led to the abbey of Jumieges +and to the manor of Agnes Sorel, mistress of Charles VII. + +In that ancient habitation of heroes and brigands, the Baron Nathan +Cahorn now lived; or Baron Satan as he was formerly called on the +Bourse, where he had acquired a fortune with incredible rapidity. The +lords of Malaquis, absolutely ruined, had been obliged to sell +the ancient castle at a great sacrifice. It contained an admirable +collection of furniture, pictures, wood carvings, and faience. The Baron +lived there alone, attended by three old servants. No one ever enters +the place. No one had ever beheld the three Rubens that he possessed, +his two Watteau, his Jean Goujon pulpit, and the many other treasures +that he had acquired by a vast expenditure of money at public sales. + +Baron Satan lived in constant fear, not for himself, but for the +treasures that he had accumulated with such an earnest devotion and with +so much perspicacity that the shrewdest merchant could not say that +the Baron had ever erred in his taste or judgment. He loved them--his +bibelots. He loved them intensely, like a miser; jealously, like a +lover. Every day, at sunset, the iron gates at either end of the bridge +and at the entrance to the court of honor are closed and barred. At +the least touch on these gates, electric bells will ring throughout the +castle. + +One Thursday in September, a letter-carrier presented himself at the +gate at the head of the bridge, and, as usual, it was the Baron himself +who partially opened the heavy portal. He scrutinized the man as +minutely as if he were a stranger, although the honest face and +twinkling eyes of the postman had been familiar to the Baron for many +years. The man laughed, as he said: + +“It is only I, Monsieur le Baron. It is not another man wearing my cap +and blouse.” + +“One can never tell,” muttered the Baron. + +The man handed him a number of newspapers, and then said: + +“And now, Monsieur le Baron, here is something new.” + +“Something new?” + +“Yes, a letter. A registered letter.” + +Living as a recluse, without friends or business relations, the baron +never received any letters, and the one now presented to him immediately +aroused within him a feeling of suspicion and distrust. It was like an +evil omen. Who was this mysterious correspondent that dared to disturb +the tranquility of his retreat? + +“You must sign for it, Monsieur le Baron.” + +He signed; then took the letter, waited until the postman had +disappeared beyond the bend in the road, and, after walking nervously to +and fro for a few minutes, he leaned against the parapet of the bridge +and opened the envelope. It contained a sheet of paper, bearing this +heading: Prison de la Santé, Paris. He looked at the signature: _Arsène +Lupin_. Then he read: + + “Monsieur le Baron: + + “There is, in the gallery in your castle, a picture of Philippe + de Champaigne, of exquisite finish, which pleases me beyond + measure. Your Rubens are also to my taste, as well as your + smallest Watteau. In the salon to the right, I have noticed the + Louis XIII cadence-table, the tapestries of Beauvais, the Empire + gueridon signed ‘Jacob,’ and the Renaissance chest. In the salon + to the left, all the cabinet full of jewels and miniatures. + + “For the present, I will content myself with those articles that + can be conveniently removed. I will therefore ask you to pack + them carefully and ship them to me, charges prepaid, to the + station at Batignolles, within eight days, otherwise I shall be + obliged to remove them myself during the night of 27 September; + but, under those circumstances, I shall not content myself with + the articles above mentioned. + + “Accept my apologies for any inconvenience I may cause you, and + believe me to be your humble servant, + + “Arsène Lupin.” + + “P. S.--Please do not send the largest Watteau. Although you + paid thirty thousand francs for it, it is only a copy, the + original having been burned, under the Directoire by Barras, + during a night of debauchery. Consult the memoirs of Garat. + + “I do not care for the Louis XV chatelaine, as I doubt its + authenticity.” + +That letter completely upset the baron. Had it borne any other +signature, he would have been greatly alarmed--but signed by Arsène +Lupin! + +As an habitual reader of the newspapers, he was versed in the history +of recent crimes, and was therefore well acquainted with the exploits of +the mysterious burglar. Of course, he knew that Lupin had been arrested +in America by his enemy Ganimard and was at present incarcerated in the +Prison de la Santé. But he knew also that any miracle might be expected +from Arsène Lupin. Moreover, that exact knowledge of the castle, the +location of the pictures and furniture, gave the affair an alarming +aspect. How could he have acquired that information concerning things +that no one had ever seen? + +The baron raised his eyes and contemplated the stern outlines of the +castle, its steep rocky pedestal, the depth of the surrounding water, +and shrugged his shoulders. Certainly, there was no danger. No one in +the world could force an entrance to the sanctuary that contained his +priceless treasures. + +No one, perhaps, but Arsène Lupin! For him, gates, walls and drawbridges +did not exist. What use were the most formidable obstacles or the most +careful precautions, if Arsène Lupin had decided to effect an entrance? + +That evening, he wrote to the Procurer of the Republique at Rouen. He +enclosed the threatening letter and solicited aid and protection. + +The reply came at once to the effect that Arsène Lupin was in custody in +the Prison de la Santé, under close surveillance, with no opportunity +to write such a letter, which was, no doubt, the work of some imposter. +But, as an act of precaution, the Procurer had submitted the letter +to an expert in handwriting, who declared that, in spite of certain +resemblances, the writing was not that of the prisoner. + +But the words “in spite of certain resemblances” caught the attention of +the baron; in them, he read the possibility of a doubt which appeared to +him quite sufficient to warrant the intervention of the law. His fears +increased. He read Lupin’s letter over and over again. “I shall be +obliged to remove them myself.” And then there was the fixed date: the +night of 27 September. + +To confide in his servants was a proceeding repugnant to his nature; but +now, for the first time in many years, he experienced the necessity of +seeking counsel with some one. Abandoned by the legal official of +his own district, and feeling unable to defend himself with his own +resources, he was on the point of going to Paris to engage the services +of a detective. + +Two days passed; on the third day, he was filled with hope and joy as +he read the following item in the ‘Reveil de Caudebec’, a newspaper +published in a neighboring town: + +“We have the pleasure of entertaining in our city, at the present time, +the veteran detective Mon. Ganimard who acquired a world-wide reputation +by his clever capture of Arsène Lupin. He has come here for rest and +recreation, and, being an enthusiastic fisherman, he threatens to +capture all the fish in our river.” + +Ganimard! Ah, here is the assistance desired by Baron Cahorn! Who could +baffle the schemes of Arsène Lupin better than Ganimard, the patient and +astute detective? He was the man for the place. + +The baron did not hesitate. The town of Caudebec was only six kilometers +from the castle, a short distance to a man whose step was accelerated by +the hope of safety. + +After several fruitless attempts to ascertain the detective’s address, +the baron visited the office of the ‘Reveil,’ situated on the quai. +There he found the writer of the article who, approaching the window, +exclaimed: + +“Ganimard? Why, you are sure to see him somewhere on the quai with his +fishing-pole. I met him there and chanced to read his name engraved on +his rod. Ah, there he is now, under the trees.” + +“That little man, wearing a straw hat?” + +“Exactly. He is a gruff fellow, with little to say.” + +Five minutes later, the baron approached the celebrated Ganimard, +introduced himself, and sought to commence a conversation, but that +was a failure. Then he broached the real object of his interview, +and briefly stated his case. The other listened, motionless, with his +attention riveted on his fishing-rod. When the baron had finished his +story, the fisherman turned, with an air of profound pity, and said: + +“Monsieur, it is not customary for thieves to warn people they are about +to rob. Arsène Lupin, especially, would not commit such a folly.” + +“But---” + +“Monsieur, if I had the least doubt, believe me, the pleasure of +again capturing Arsène Lupin would place me at your disposal. But, +unfortunately, that young man is already under lock and key.” + +“He may have escaped.” + +“No one ever escaped from the Santé.” + +“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. +Arsène.” + +This telegram threw the baron into such a state of excitement that he +even considered the advisability of yielding to Lupin’s demands. + +However, he hastened to Caudebec. Ganimard was fishing at the same +place, seated on a campstool. Without a word, he handed him the +telegram. + +“Well, what of it?” said the detective. + +“What of it? But it is tomorrow.” + +“What is tomorrow?” + +“The robbery! The pillage of my collections!” + +Ganimard laid down his fishing-rod, turned to the baron, and exclaimed, +in a tone of impatience: + +“Ah! Do you think I am going to bother myself about such a silly story +as that!” + +“How much do you ask to pass tomorrow night in the castle?” + +“Not a sou. Now, leave me alone.” + +“Name your own price. I am rich and can pay it.” + +This offer disconcerted Ganimard, who replied, calmly: + +“I am here on a vacation. I have no right to undertake such work.” + +“No one will know. I promise to keep it secret.” + +“Oh! nothing will happen.” + +“Come! three thousand francs. Will that be enough?” + +The detective, after a moment’s reflection, said: + +“Very well. But I must warn you that you are throwing your money out of +the window.” + +“I do not care.” + +“In that case... but, after all, what do we know about this devil Lupin! +He may have quite a numerous band of robbers with him. Are you sure of +your servants?” + +“My faith---” + +“Better not count on them. I will telegraph for two of my men to help +me. And now, go! It is better for us not to be seen together. Tomorrow +evening about nine o’clock.” + +* * * * * + +The following day--the date fixed by Arsène Lupin--Baron Cahorn arranged +all his panoply of war, furbished his weapons, and, like a sentinel, +paced to and fro in front of the castle. He saw nothing, heard nothing. +At half-past eight o’clock in the evening, he dismissed his servants. +They occupied rooms in a wing of the building, in a retired spot, well +removed from the main portion of the castle. Shortly thereafter, the +baron heard the sound of approaching footsteps. It was Ganimard and his +two assistants--great, powerful fellows with immense hands, and necks +like bulls. After asking a few questions relating to the location of the +various entrances and rooms, Ganimard carefully closed and barricaded +all the doors and windows through which one could gain access to the +threatened rooms. He inspected the walls, raised the tapestries, and +finally installed his assistants in the central gallery which was +located between the two salons. + +“No nonsense! We are not here to sleep. At the slightest sound, open the +windows of the court and call me. Pay attention also to the water-side. +Ten metres of perpendicular rock is no obstacle to those devils.” + +Ganimard locked his assistants in the gallery, carried away the keys, +and said to the baron: + +“And now, to our post.” + +He had chosen for himself a small room located in the thick outer wall, +between the two principal doors, and which, in former years, had been +the watchman’s quarters. A peep-hole opened upon the bridge; another on +the court. In one corner, there was an opening to a tunnel. + +“I believe you told me, Monsieur le Baron, that this tunnel is the only +subterranean entrance to the castle and that it has been closed up for +time immemorial?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then, unless there is some other entrance, known only to Arsène Lupin, +we are quite safe.” + +He placed three chairs together, stretched himself upon them, lighted +his pipe and sighed: + +“Really, Monsieur le Baron, I feel ashamed to accept your money for such +a sinecure as this. I will tell the story to my friend Lupin. He will +enjoy it immensely.” + +The baron did not laugh. He was anxiously listening, but heard nothing +save the beating of his own heart. From time to time, he leaned over the +tunnel and cast a fearful eye into its depths. He heard the clock strike +eleven, twelve, one. + +Suddenly, he seized Ganimard’s arm. The latter leaped up, awakened from +his sleep. + +“Do you hear?” asked the baron, in a whisper. + +“Yes.” + +“What is it?” + +“I was snoring, I suppose.” + +“No, no, listen.” + +“Ah! yes, it is the horn of an automobile.” + +“Well?” + +“Well! it is very improbable that Lupin would use an automobile like a +battering-ram to demolish your castle. Come, Monsieur le Baron, return +to your post. I am going to sleep. Good-night.” + +That was the only alarm. Ganimard resumed his interrupted slumbers, and +the baron heard nothing except the regular snoring of his companion. At +break of day, they left the room. The castle was enveloped in a profound +calm; it was a peaceful dawn on the bosom of a tranquil river. They +mounted the stairs, Cahorn radiant with joy, Ganimard calm as usual. +They heard no sound; they saw nothing to arouse suspicion. + +“What did I tell you, Monsieur le Baron? Really, I should not have +accepted your offer. I am ashamed.” + +He unlocked the door and entered the gallery. Upon two chairs, with +drooping heads and pendent arms, the detective’s two assistants were +asleep. + +“Tonnerre de nom d’un chien!” exclaimed Ganimard. At the same moment, +the baron cried out: + +“The pictures! The credence!” + +He stammered, choked, with arms outstretched toward the empty places, +toward the denuded walls where naught remained but the useless nails +and cords. The Watteau, disappeared! The Rubens, carried away! The +tapestries taken down! The cabinets, despoiled of their jewels! + +“And my Louis XVI candelabra! And the Regent chandelier!...And my +twelfth-century Virgin!” + +He ran from one spot to another in wildest despair. He recalled the +purchase price of each article, added up the figures, counted his +losses, pell-mell, in confused words and unfinished phrases. He stamped +with rage; he groaned with grief. He acted like a ruined man whose only +hope is suicide. + +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?” + +“By him, of course, or his men under his discretion. That work bears his +stamp.” + +“In that case, I am lost--nothing can be done.” + +“Nothing,” assented Ganimard. + +“It is dreadful; it is monstrous.” + +“Lodge a complaint.” + +“What good will that do?” + +“Oh; it is well to try it. The law has some resources.” + +“The law! Bah! it is useless. You represent the law, and, at this +moment, when you should be looking for a clue and trying to discover +something, you do not even stir.” + +“Discover something with Arsène Lupin! Why, my dear monsieur, Arsène +Lupin never leaves any clue behind him. He leaves nothing to chance. +Sometimes I think he put himself in my way and simply allowed me to +arrest him in America.” + +“Then, I must renounce my pictures! He has taken the gems of my +collection. I would give a fortune to recover them. If there is no other +way, let him name his own price.” + +Ganimard regarded the baron attentively, as he said: + +“Now, that is sensible. Will you stick to it?” + +“Yes, yes. But why?” + +“An idea that I have.” + +“What is it?” + +“We will discuss it later--if the official examination does not succeed. +But, not one word about me, if you wish my assistance.” + +He added, between his teeth: + +“It is true I have nothing to boast of in this affair.” + +The assistants were gradually regaining consciousness with the +bewildered air of people who come out of an hypnotic sleep. They opened +their eyes and looked about them in astonishment. Ganimard questioned +them; they remembered nothing. + +“But you must have seen some one?” + +“No.” + +“Can’t you remember?” + +“No, no.” + +“Did you drink anything?” + +They considered a moment, and then one of them replied: + +“Yes, I drank a little water.” + +“Out of that carafe?” + +“Yes.” + +“So did I,” declared the other. + +Ganimard smelled and tasted it. It had no particular taste and no odor. + +“Come,” he said, “we are wasting our time here. One can’t decide an +Arsène Lupin problem in five minutes. But, morbleau! I swear I will +catch him again.” + +The same day, a charge of burglary was duly performed by Baron Cahorn +against Arsène Lupin, a prisoner in the Prison de la Santé. + +* * * * * + +The baron afterwards regretted making the charge against Lupin when he +saw his castle delivered over to the gendarmes, the procureur, the judge +d’instruction, the newspaper reporters and photographers, and a throng +of idle curiosity-seekers. + +The affair soon became a topic of general discussion, and the name of +Arsène Lupin excited the public imagination to such an extent that the +newspapers filled their columns with the most fantastic stories of his +exploits which found ready credence amongst their readers. + +But the letter of Arsène Lupin that was published in the _Echo de +France_ (no once ever knew how the newspaper obtained it), that letter +in which Baron Cahorn was impudently warned of the coming theft, caused +considerable excitement. The most fabulous theories were advanced. Some +recalled the existence of the famous subterranean tunnels, and that was +the line of research pursued by the officers of the law, who searched +the house from top to bottom, questioned every stone, studied the +wainscoting and the chimneys, the window-frames and the girders in the +ceilings. By the light of torches, they examined the immense cellars +where the lords of Malaquis were wont to store their munitions and +provisions. They sounded the rocky foundation to its very centre. But it +was all in vain. They discovered no trace of a subterranean tunnel. No +secret passage existed. + +But the eager public declared that the pictures and furniture could not +vanish like so many ghosts. They are substantial, material things and +require doors and windows for their exits and their entrances, and so +do the people that remove them. Who were those people? How did they gain +access to the castle? And how did they leave it? + +The police officers of Rouen, convinced of their own impotence, +solicited the assistance of the Parisian detective force. Mon. Dudouis, +chief of the Sûreté, sent the best sleuths of the iron brigade. He +himself spent forty-eight hours at the castle, but met with no success. +Then he sent for Ganimard, whose past services had proved so useful when +all else failed. + +Ganimard listened, in silence, to the instructions of his superior; +then, shaking his head, he said: + +“In my opinion, it is useless to ransack the castle. The solution of the +problem lies elsewhere.” + +“Where, then?” + +“With Arsène Lupin.” + +“With Arsène Lupin! To support that theory, we must admit his +intervention.” + +“I do admit it. In fact, I consider it quite certain.” + +“Come, Ganimard, that is absurd. Arsène Lupin is in prison.” + +“I grant you that Arsène Lupin is in prison, closely guarded; but he +must have fetters on his feet, manacles on his wrists, and gag in his +mouth before I change my opinion.” + +“Why so obstinate, Ganimard?” + +“Because Arsène Lupin is the only man in France of sufficient calibre to +invent and carry out a scheme of that magnitude.” + +“Mere words, Ganimard.” + +“But true ones. Look! What are they doing? Searching for subterranean +passages, stones swinging on pivots, and other nonsense of that kind. +But Lupin doesn’t employ such old-fashioned methods. He is a modern +cracksman, right up to date.” + +“And how would you proceed?” + +“I should ask your permission to spend an hour with him.” + +“In his cell?” + +“Yes. During the return trip from America we became very friendly, and +I venture to say that if he can give me any information without +compromising himself he will not hesitate to save me from incurring +useless trouble.” + +It was shortly after noon when Ganimard entered the cell of Arsène +Lupin. The latter, who was lying on his bed, raised his head and uttered +a cry of apparent joy. + +“Ah! This is a real surprise. My dear Ganimard, here!” + +“Ganimard himself.” + +“In my chosen retreat, I have felt a desire for many things, but my +fondest wish was to receive you here.” + +“Very kind of you, I am sure.” + +“Not at all. You know I hold you in the highest regard.” + +“I am proud of it.” + +“I have always said: Ganimard is our best detective. He is almost,--you +see how candid I am!--he is almost as clever as Sherlock Holmes. But I +am sorry that I cannot offer you anything better than this hard stool. +And no refreshments! Not even a glass of beer! Of course, you will +excuse me, as I am here only temporarily.” + +Ganimard smiled, and accepted the proffered seat. Then the prisoner +continued: + +“Mon Dieu, how pleased I am to see the face of an honest man. I am so +tired of those devils of spies who come here ten times a day to ransack +my pockets and my cell to satisfy themselves that I am not preparing to +escape. The government is very solicitous on my account.” + +“It is quite right.” + +“Why so? I should be quite contented if they would allow me to live in +my own quiet way.” + +“On other people’s money.” + +“Quite so. That would be so simple. But here, I am joking, and you are, +no doubt, in a hurry. So let us come to business, Ganimard. To what do I +owe the honor of this visit? + +“The Cahorn affair,” declared Ganimard, frankly. + +“Ah! Wait, one moment. You see I have had so many affairs! First, let me +fix in my mind the circumstances of this particular case....Ah! yes, now +I have it. The Cahorn affair, Malaquis castle, Seine-Inférieure....Two +Rubens, a Watteau, and a few trifling articles.” + +“Trifling!” + +“Oh! ma foi, all that is of slight importance. But it suffices to know +that the affair interests you. How can I serve you, Ganimard?” + +“Must I explain to you what steps the authorities have taken in the +matter?” + +“Not at all. I have read the newspapers and I will frankly state that +you have made very little progress.” + +“And that is the reason I have come to see you.” + +“I am entirely at your service.” + +“In the first place, the Cahorn affair was managed by you?” + +“From A to Z.” + +“The letter of warning? the telegram?” + +“All mine. I ought to have the receipts somewhere.” + +Arsène opened the drawer of a small table of plain white wood which, +with the bed and stool, constituted all the furniture in his cell, and +took therefrom two scraps of paper which he handed to Ganimard. + +“Ah!” exclaimed the detective, in surprise, “I thought you were closely +guarded and searched, and I find that you read the newspapers and +collect postal receipts.” + +“Bah! these people are so stupid! They open the lining of my vest, they +examine the soles of my shoes, they sound the walls of my cell, but they +never imagine that Arsène Lupin would be foolish enough to choose such a +simple hiding place.” + +Ganimard laughed, as he said: + +“What a droll fellow you are! Really, you bewilder me. But, come now, +tell me about the Cahorn affair.” + +“Oh! oh! not quite so fast! You would rob me of all my secrets; expose +all my little tricks. That is a very serious matter.” + +“Was I wrong to count on your complaisance?” + +“No, Ganimard, and since you insist---” + +Arsène Lupin paced his cell two or three times, then, stopping before +Ganimard, he asked: + +“What do you think of my letter to the baron?” + +“I think you were amusing yourself by playing to the gallery.” + +“Ah! playing to the gallery! Come, Ganimard, I thought you knew me +better. Do I, Arsène Lupin, ever waste my time on such puerilities? +Would I have written that letter if I could have robbed the baron +without writing to him? I want you to understand that the letter was +indispensable; it was the motor that set the whole machine in motion. +Now, let us discuss together a scheme for the robbery of the Malaquis +castle. Are you willing?” + +“Yes, proceed.” + +“Well, let us suppose a castle carefully closed and barricaded like +that of the Baron Cahorn. Am I to abandon my scheme and renounce the +treasures that I covet, upon the pretext that the castle which holds +them is inaccessible?” + +“Evidently not.” + +“Should I make an assault upon the castle at the head of a band of +adventurers as they did in ancient times?” + +“That would be foolish.” + +“Can I gain admittance by stealth or cunning?” + +“Impossible.” + +“Then there is only one way open to me. I must have the owner of the +castle invite me to it.” + +“That is surely an original method.” + +“And how easy! Let us suppose that one day the owner receives a letter +warning him that a notorious burglar known as Arsène Lupin is plotting +to rob him. What will he do?” + +“Send a letter to the Procureur.” + +“Who will laugh at him, _because the said Arsène Lupin is actually in +prison_. Then, in his anxiety and fear, the simple man will ask the +assistance of the first-comer, will he not?” + +“Very likely.” + +“And if he happens to read in a country newspaper that a celebrated +detective is spending his vacation in a neighboring town---” + +“He will seek that detective.” + +“Of course. But, on the other hand, let us presume that, having foreseen +that state of affairs, the said Arsène Lupin has requested one of his +friends to visit Caudebec, make the acquaintance of the editor of the +‘Réveil,’ a newspaper to which the baron is a subscriber, and let said +editor understand that such person is the celebrated detective--then, +what will happen?” + +“The editor will announce in the ‘Réveil’ the presence in Caudebec of +said detective.” + +“Exactly; and one of two things will happen: either the fish--I mean +Cahorn--will not bite, and nothing will happen; or, what is more likely, +he will run and greedily swallow the bait. Thus, behold my Baron Cahorn +imploring the assistance of one of my friends against me.” + +“Original, indeed!” + +“Of course, the pseudo-detective at first refuses to give any +assistance. On top of that comes the telegram from Arsène Lupin. The +frightened baron rushes once more to my friend and offers him a definite +sum of money for his services. My friend accepts and summons two members +of our band, who, during the night, whilst Cahorn is under the watchful +eye of his protector, removes certain articles by way of the window +and lowers them with ropes into a nice little launch chartered for the +occasion. Simple, isn’t it?” + +“Marvelous! Marvelous!” exclaimed Ganimard. “The boldness of the scheme +and the ingenuity of all its details are beyond criticism. But who is +the detective whose name and fame served as a magnet to attract the +baron and draw him into your net?” + +“There is only one name could do it--only one.” + +“And that is?” + +“Arsène Lupin’s personal enemy--the most illustrious Ganimard.” + +“I?” + +“Yourself, Ganimard. And, really, it is very funny. If you go there, and +the baron decides to talk, you will find that it will be your duty to +arrest yourself, just as you arrested me in America. Hein! the revenge +is really amusing: I cause Ganimard to arrest Ganimard.” + +Arsène Lupin laughed heartily. The detective, greatly vexed, bit his +lips; to him the joke was quite devoid of humor. The arrival of a prison +guard gave Ganimard an opportunity to recover himself. The man brought +Arsène Lupin’s luncheon, furnished by a neighboring restaurant. After +depositing the tray upon the table, the guard retired. Lupin broke his +bread, ate a few morsels, and continued: + +“But, rest easy, my dear Ganimard, you will not go to Malaquis. I can +tell you something that will astonish you: the Cahorn affair is on the +point of being settled.” + +“Excuse me; I have just seen the Chief of the Sureté.” + +“What of that? Does Mon. Dudouis know my business better than I +do myself? You will learn that Ganimard--excuse me--that the +pseudo-Ganimard still remains on very good terms with the baron. The +latter has authorized him to negotiate a very delicate transaction with +me, and, at the present moment, in consideration of a certain sum, it +is probable that the baron has recovered possession of his pictures and +other treasures. And on their return, he will withdraw his complaint. +Thus, there is no longer any theft, and the law must abandon the case.” + +Ganimard regarded the prisoner with a bewildered air. + +“And how do you know all that?” + +“I have just received the telegram I was expecting.” + +“You have just received a telegram?” + +“This very moment, my dear friend. Out of politeness, I did not wish to +read it in your presence. But if you will permit me---” + +“You are joking, Lupin.” + +“My dear friend, if you will be so kind as to break that egg, you will +learn for yourself that I am not joking.” + +Mechanically, Ganimard obeyed, and cracked the egg-shell with the blade +of a knife. He uttered a cry of surprise. The shell contained nothing +but a small piece of blue paper. At the request of Arsène he unfolded +it. It was a telegram, or rather a portion of a telegram from which the +post-marks had been removed. It read as follows: + +“Contract closed. Hundred thousand balls delivered. All well.” + +“One hundred thousand balls?” said Ganimard. + +“Yes, one hundred thousand francs. Very little, but then, you know, +these are hard times....And I have some heavy bills to meet. If you only +knew my budget.... living in the city comes very high.” + +Ganimard arose. His ill humor had disappeared. He reflected for a +moment, glancing over the whole affair in an effort to discover a weak +point; then, in a tone and manner that betrayed his admiration of the +prisoner, he said: + +“Fortunately, we do not have a dozen such as you to deal with; if we +did, we would have to close up shop.” + +Arsène Lupin assumed a modest air, as he replied: + +“Bah! a person must have some diversion to occupy his leisure hours, +especially when he is in prison.” + +“What!” exclaimed Ganimard, “your trial, your defense, the +examination--isn’t that sufficient to occupy your mind?” + +“No, because I have decided not to be present at my trial.” + +“Oh! oh!” + +Arsène Lupin repeated, positively: + +“I shall not be present at my trial.” + +“Really!” + +“Ah! my dear monsieur, do you suppose I am going to rot upon the wet +straw? You insult me. Arsène Lupin remains in prison just as long as it +pleases him, and not one minute more.” + +“Perhaps it would have been more prudent if you had avoided getting +there,” said the detective, ironically. + +“Ah! monsieur jests? Monsieur must remember that he had the honor to +effect my arrest. Know then, my worthy friend, that no one, not even +you, could have placed a hand upon me if a much more important event had +not occupied my attention at that critical moment.” + +“You astonish me.” + +“A woman was looking at me, Ganimard, and I loved her. Do you fully +understand what that means: to be under the eyes of a woman that one +loves? I cared for nothing in the world but that. And that is why I am +here.” + +“Permit me to say: you have been here a long time.” + +“In the first place, I wished to forget. Do not laugh; it was a +delightful adventure and it is still a tender memory. Besides, I have +been suffering from neurasthenia. Life is so feverish these days that it +is necessary to take the ‘rest cure’ occasionally, and I find this spot +a sovereign remedy for my tired nerves.” + +“Arsène Lupin, you are not a bad fellow, after all.” + +“Thank you,” said Lupin. “Ganimard, this is Friday. On Wednesday next, +at four o’clock in the afternoon, I will smoke my cigar at your house in +the rue Pergolese.” + +“Arsène Lupin, I will expect you.” + +They shook hands like two old friends who valued each other at their +true worth; then the detective stepped to the door. + +“Ganimard!” + +“What is it?” asked Ganimard, as he turned back. + +“You have forgotten your watch.” + +“My watch?” + +“Yes, it strayed into my pocket.” + +He returned the watch, excusing himself. + +“Pardon me.... a bad habit. Because they have taken mine is no reason why +I should take yours. Besides, I have a chronometer here that satisfies +me fairly well.” + +He took from the drawer a large gold watch and heavy chain. + +“From whose pocket did that come?” asked Ganimard. + +Arsène Lupin gave a hasty glance at the initials engraved on the watch. + +“J.B.....Who the devil can that be?....Ah! yes, I remember. Jules +Bouvier, the judge who conducted my examination. A charming fellow!....” + + + + +III. The Escape of Arsène Lupin + + +Arsène Lupin had just finished his repast and taken from his pocket an +excellent cigar, with a gold band, which he was examining with unusual +care, when the door of his cell was opened. He had barely time to +throw the cigar into the drawer and move away from the table. The guard +entered. It was the hour for exercise. + +“I was waiting for you, my dear boy,” exclaimed Lupin, in his accustomed +good humor. + +They went out together. As soon as they had disappeared at a turn in the +corridor, two men entered the cell and commenced a minute examination +of it. One was Inspector Dieuzy; the other was Inspector Folenfant. They +wished to verify their suspicion that Arsène Lupin was in communication +with his accomplices outside of the prison. On the preceding evening, +the ‘Grand Journal’ had published these lines addressed to its court +reporter: + +“Monsieur: + +“In a recent article you referred to me in most unjustifiable +terms. Some days before the opening of my trial I will call you to +account. Arsène Lupin.” + +The handwriting was certainly that of Arsène Lupin. Consequently, he +sent letters; and, no doubt, received letters. It was certain that he +was preparing for that escape thus arrogantly announced by him. + +The situation had become intolerable. Acting in conjunction with the +examining judge, the chief of the Sûreté, Mon. Dudouis, had visited the +prison and instructed the gaoler in regard to the precautions necessary +to insure Lupin’s safety. At the same time, he sent the two men to +examine the prisoner’s cell. They raised every stone, ransacked the bed, +did everything customary in such a case, but they discovered nothing, +and were about to abandon their investigation when the guard entered +hastily and said: + +“The drawer.... look in the table-drawer. When I entered just now he was +closing it.” + +They opened the drawer, and Dieuzy exclaimed: + +“Ah! we have him this time.” + +Folenfant stopped him. + +“Wait a moment. The chief will want to make an inventory.” + +“This is a very choice cigar.” + +“Leave it there, and notify the chief.” + +Two minutes later Mon. Dudouis examined the contents of the drawer. +First he discovered a bundle of newspaper clippings relating to Arsène +Lupin taken from the _Argus de la Presse_, then a tobacco-box, a pipe, +some paper called “onion-peel,” and two books. He read the titles of the +books. One was an English edition of Carlyle’s “Hero-worship”; the other +was a charming elzevir, in modern binding, the “Manual of Epictetus,” a +German translation published at Leyden in 1634. On examining the books, +he found that all the pages were underlined and annotated. Were they +prepared as a code for correspondence, or did they simply express the +studious character of the reader? Then he examined the tobacco-box and +the pipe. Finally, he took up the famous cigar with its gold band. + +“Fichtre!” he exclaimed. “Our friend smokes a good cigar. It’s a Henry +Clay.” + +With the mechanical action of an habitual smoker, he placed the cigar +close to his ear and squeezed it to make it crack. Immediately he +uttered a cry of surprise. The cigar had yielded under the pressure +of his fingers. He examined it more closely, and quickly discovered +something white between the leaves of tobacco. Delicately, with the aid +of a pin, he withdrew a roll of very thin paper, scarcely larger than +a toothpick. It was a letter. He unrolled it, and found these words, +written in a feminine handwriting: + +“The basket has taken the place of the others. Eight out of ten are +ready. On pressing the outer foot the plate goes downward. From twelve +to sixteen every day, H-P will wait. But where? Reply at once. Rest +easy; your friend is watching over you.” + +Mon. Dudouis reflected a moment, then said: + +“It is quite clear.... the basket.... the eight compartments.... From +twelve to sixteen means from twelve to four o’clock.” + +“But this H-P, that will wait?” + +“H-P must mean automobile. H-P, horsepower, is the way they indicate +strength of the motor. A twenty-four H-P is an automobile of twenty-four +horsepower.” + +Then he rose, and asked: + +“Had the prisoner finished his breakfast?” + +“Yes.” + +“And as he has not yet read the message, which is proved by the +condition of the cigar, it is probable that he had just received it.” + +“How?” + +“In his food. Concealed in his bread or in a potato, perhaps.” + +“Impossible. His food was allowed to be brought in simply to trap him, +but we have never found anything in it.” + +“We will look for Lupin’s reply this evening. Detain him outside for a +few minutes. I shall take this to the examining judge, and, if he agrees +with me, we will have the letter photographed at once, and in an hour +you can replace the letter in the drawer in a cigar similar to this. The +prisoner must have no cause for suspicion.” + +It was not without a certain curiosity that Mon. Dudouis returned to +the prison in the evening, accompanied by Inspector Dieuzy. Three empty +plates were sitting on the stove in the corner. + +“He has eaten?” + +“Yes,” replied the guard. + +“Dieuzy, please cut that macaroni into very small pieces, and open that +bread-roll....Nothing?” + +“No, chief.” + +Mon. Dudouis examined the plates, the fork, the spoon, and the knife--an +ordinary knife with a rounded blade. He turned the handle to the left; +then to the right. It yielded and unscrewed. The knife was hollow, and +served as a hiding-place for a sheet of paper. + +“Peuh!” he said, “that is not very clever for a man like Arsène. But we +mustn’t lose any time. You, Dieuzy, go and search the restaurant.” + +Then he read the note: + +“I trust to you, H-P will follow at a distance every day. I will go +ahead. Au revoir, dear friend.” + +“At last,” cried Mon. Dudouis, rubbing his hands gleefully, “I think we +have the affair in our own hands. A little strategy on our part, and the +escape will be a success in so far as the arrest of his confederates are +concerned.” + +“But if Arsène Lupin slips through your fingers?” suggested the guard. + +“We will have a sufficient number of men to prevent that. If, however, +he displays too much cleverness, ma foi, so much the worse for him! As +to his band of robbers, since the chief refuses to speak, the others +must.” + +* * * * * + +And, as a matter of fact, Arsène Lupin had very little to say. For +several months, Mon. Jules Bouvier, the examining judge, had +exerted himself in vain. The investigation had been reduced to a few +uninteresting arguments between the judge and the advocate, Maître +Danval, one of the leaders of the bar. From time to time, through +courtesy, Arsène Lupin would speak. One day he said: + +“Yes, monsieur, le judge, I quite agree with you: the robbery of the +Crédit Lyonnais, the theft in the rue de Babylone, the issue of +the counterfeit bank-notes, the burglaries at the various châteaux, +Armesnil, Gouret, Imblevain, Groseillers, Malaquis, all my work, +monsieur, I did it all.” + +“Then will you explain to me---” + +“It is useless. I confess everything in a lump, everything and even ten +times more than you know nothing about.” + +Wearied by his fruitless task, the judge had suspended his examinations, +but he resumed them after the two intercepted messages were brought to +his attention; and regularly, at mid-day, Arsène Lupin was taken from +the prison to the Dépôt in the prison-van with a certain number of other +prisoners. They returned about three or four o’clock. + +Now, one afternoon, this return trip was made under unusual conditions. +The other prisoners not having been examined, it was decided to take +back Arsène Lupin first, thus he found himself alone in the vehicle. + +These prison-vans, vulgarly called “panniers à salade”--or +salad-baskets--are divided lengthwise by a central corridor from which +open ten compartments, five on either side. Each compartment is so +arranged that the occupant must assume and retain a sitting posture, +and, consequently, the five prisoners are seated one upon the other, +and yet separated one from the other by partitions. A municipal guard, +standing at one end, watches over the corridor. + +Arsène was placed in the third cell on the right, and the heavy vehicle +started. He carefully calculated when they left the quai de l’Horloge, +and when they passed the Palais de Justice. Then, about the centre of +the bridge Saint Michel, with his outer foot, that is to say, his right +foot, he pressed upon the metal plate that closed his cell. Immediately +something clicked, and the metal plate moved. He was able to ascertain +that he was located between the two wheels. + +He waited, keeping a sharp look-out. The vehicle was proceeding slowly +along the boulevard Saint Michel. At the corner of Saint Germain it +stopped. A truck horse had fallen. The traffic having been interrupted, +a vast throng of fiacres and omnibuses had gathered there. Arsène Lupin +looked out. Another prison-van had stopped close to the one he occupied. +He moved the plate still farther, put his foot on one of the spokes +of the wheel and leaped to the ground. A coachman saw him, roared with +laughter, then tried to raise an outcry, but his voice was lost in the +noise of the traffic that had commenced to move again. Moreover, Arsène +Lupin was already far away. + +He had run for a few steps; but, once upon the sidewalk, he turned +and looked around; he seemed to scent the wind like a person who is +uncertain which direction to take. Then, having decided, he put his +hands in his pockets, and, with the careless air of an idle stroller, +he proceeded up the boulevard. It was a warm, bright autumn day, and +the cafés were full. He took a seat on the terrace of one of them. He +ordered a bock and a package of cigarettes. He emptied his glass slowly, +smoked one cigarette and lighted a second. Then he asked the waiter to +send the proprietor to him. When the proprietor came, Arsène spoke to +him in a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone: + +“I regret to say, monsieur, I have forgotten my pocketbook. Perhaps, on +the strength of my name, you will be pleased to give me credit for a few +days. I am Arsène Lupin.” + +The proprietor looked at him, thinking he was joking. But Arsène +repeated: + +“Lupin, prisoner at the Santé, but now a fugitive. I venture to assume +that the name inspires you with perfect confidence in me.” + +And he walked away, amidst shouts of laughter, whilst the proprietor +stood amazed. + +Lupin strolled along the rue Soufflot, and turned into the rue Saint +Jacques. He pursued his way slowly, smoking his cigarettes and looking +into the shop-windows. At the Boulevard de Port Royal he took his +bearings, discovered where he was, and then walked in the direction of +the rue de la Santé. The high forbidding walls of the prison were +now before him. He pulled his hat forward to shade his face; then, +approaching the sentinel, he asked: + +“Is this the prison de la Santé?” + +“Yes.” + +“I wish to regain my cell. The van left me on the way, and I would not +abuse--” + +“Now, young man, move along--quick!” growled the sentinel. + +“Pardon me, but I must pass through that gate. And if you prevent Arsène +Lupin from entering the prison it will cost you dear, my friend.” + +“Arsène Lupin! What are you talking about!” + +“I am sorry I haven’t a card with me,” said Arsène, fumbling in his +pockets. + +The sentinel eyed him from head to foot, in astonishment. Then, without +a word, he rang a bell. The iron gate was partly opened, and Arsène +stepped inside. Almost immediately he encountered the keeper of the +prison, gesticulating and feigning a violent anger. Arsène smiled and +said: + +“Come, monsieur, don’t play that game with me. What! they take +the precaution to carry me alone in the van, prepare a nice little +obstruction, and imagine I am going to take to my heels and rejoin +my friends. Well, and what about the twenty agents of the Sûreté who +accompanied us on foot, in fiacres and on bicycles? No, the arrangement +did not please me. I should not have got away alive. Tell me, monsieur, +did they count on that?” + +He shrugged his shoulders, and added: + +“I beg of you, monsieur, not to worry about me. When I wish to escape I +shall not require any assistance.” + +On the second day thereafter, the _Echo de France_, which had apparently +become the official reporter of the exploits of Arsène Lupin,--it was +said that he was one of its principal shareholders--published a most +complete account of this attempted escape. The exact wording of the +messages exchanged between the prisoner and his mysterious friend, the +means by which correspondence was constructed, the complicity of the +police, the promenade on the Boulevard Saint Michel, the incident at the +café Soufflot, everything was disclosed. It was known that the search of +the restaurant and its waiters by Inspector Dieuzy had been fruitless. +And the public also learned an extraordinary thing which demonstrated +the infinite variety of resources that Lupin possessed: the prison-van, +in which he was being carried, was prepared for the occasion and +substituted by his accomplices for one of the six vans which did service +at the prison. + +The next escape of Arsène Lupin was not doubted by anyone. He announced +it himself, in categorical terms, in a reply to Mon. Bouvier on the day +following his attempted escape. The judge having made a jest about +the affair, Arsène was annoyed, and, firmly eyeing the judge, he said, +emphatically: + +“Listen to me, monsieur! I give you my word of honor that this attempted +flight was simply preliminary to my general plan of escape.” + +“I do not understand,” said the judge. + +“It is not necessary that you should understand.” + +And when the judge, in the course of that examination which was reported +at length in the columns of the _Echo de France_, when the judge sought +to resume his investigation, Arsène Lupin exclaimed, with an assumed air +of lassitude: + +“Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu, what’s the use! All these questions are of no +importance!” + +“What! No importance?” cried the judge. + +“No; because I shall not be present at the trial.” + +“You will not be present?” + +“No; I have fully decided on that, and nothing will change my mind.” + +Such assurance combined with the inexplicable indiscretions that Arsène +committed every day served to annoy and mystify the officers of the law. +There were secrets known only to Arsène Lupin; secrets that he alone +could divulge. But for what purpose did he reveal them? And how? + +Arsène Lupin was changed to another cell. The judge closed his +preliminary investigation. No further proceedings were taken in his case +for a period of two months, during which time Arsène was seen almost +constantly lying on his bed with his face turned toward the wall. The +changing of his cell seemed to discourage him. He refused to see his +advocate. He exchanged only a few necessary words with his keepers. + +During the fortnight preceding his trial, he resumed his vigorous life. +He complained of want of air. Consequently, early every morning he was +allowed to exercise in the courtyard, guarded by two men. + +Public curiosity had not died out; every day it expected to be regaled +with news of his escape; and, it is true, he had gained a considerable +amount of public sympathy by reason of his verve, his gayety, his +diversity, his inventive genius and the mystery of his life. Arsène +Lupin must escape. It was his inevitable fate. The public expected it, +and was surprised that the event had been delayed so long. Every morning +the Préfect of Police asked his secretary: + +“Well, has he escaped yet?” + +“No, Monsieur le Préfect.” + +“To-morrow, probably.” + +And, on the day before the trial, a gentleman called at the office of +the ‘Grand Journal,’ asked to see the court reporter, threw his card in +the reporter’s face, and walked rapidly away. These words were written +on the card: “Arsène Lupin always keeps his promises.” + +* * * * * + +It was under these conditions that the trial commenced. An enormous +crowd gathered at the court. Everybody wished to see the famous Arsène +Lupin. They had a gleeful anticipation that the prisoner would play some +audacious pranks upon the judge. Advocates and magistrates, reporters +and men of the world, actresses and society women were crowded together +on the benches provided for the public. + +It was a dark, sombre day, with a steady downpour of rain. Only a +dim light pervaded the courtroom, and the spectators caught a very +indistinct view of the prisoner when the guards brought him in. But his +heavy, shambling walk, the manner in which he dropped into his seat, and +his passive, stupid appearance were not at all prepossessing. Several +times his advocate--one of Mon. Danval’s assistants--spoke to him, but +he simply shook his head and said nothing. + +The clerk read the indictment, then the judge spoke: + +“Prisoner at the bar, stand up. Your name, age, and occupation?” + +Not receiving any reply, the judge repeated: + +“Your name? I ask you your name?” + +A thick, slow voice muttered: + +“Baudru, Désiré.” + +A murmur of surprise pervaded the courtroom. But the judge proceeded: + +“Baudru, Désiré? Ah! a new alias! Well, as you have already assumed a +dozen different names and this one is, no doubt, as imaginary as the +others, we will adhere to the name of Arsène Lupin, by which you are +more generally known.” + +The judge referred to his notes, and continued: + +“For, despite the most diligent search, your past history remains +unknown. Your case is unique in the annals of crime. We know not whom +you are, whence you came, your birth and breeding--all is a mystery +to us. Three years ago you appeared in our midst as Arsène Lupin, +presenting to us a strange combination of intelligence and perversion, +immorality and generosity. Our knowledge of your life prior to that date +is vague and problematical. It may be that the man called Rostat who, +eight years ago, worked with Dickson, the prestidigitator, was none +other than Arsène Lupin. It is probable that the Russian student who, +six years ago, attended the laboratory of Doctor Altier at the Saint +Louis Hospital, and who often astonished the doctor by the ingenuity +of his hypotheses on subjects of bacteriology and the boldness of his +experiments in diseases of the skin, was none other than Arsène Lupin. +It is probable, also, that Arsène Lupin was the professor who introduced +the Japanese art of jiu-jitsu to the Parisian public. We have some +reason to believe that Arsène Lupin was the bicyclist who won the Grand +Prix de l’Exposition, received his ten thousand francs, and was never +heard of again. Arsène Lupin may have been, also, the person who saved +so many lives through the little dormer-window at the Charity Bazaar; +and, at the same time, picked their pockets.” + +The judge paused for a moment, then continued: + +“Such is that epoch which seems to have been utilized by you in a +thorough preparation for the warfare you have since waged against +society; a methodical apprenticeship in which you developed your +strength, energy and skill to the highest point possible. Do you +acknowledge the accuracy of these facts?” + +During this discourse the prisoner had stood balancing himself, first +on one foot, then on the other, with shoulders stooped and arms inert. +Under the strongest light one could observe his extreme thinness, his +hollow cheeks, his projecting cheek-bones, his earthen-colored face +dotted with small red spots and framed in a rough, straggling beard. +Prison life had caused him to age and wither. He had lost the +youthful face and elegant figure we had seen portrayed so often in the +newspapers. + +It appeared as if he had not heard the question propounded by the +judge. Twice it was repeated to him. Then he raised his eyes, seemed to +reflect, then, making a desperate effort, he murmured: + +“Baudru, Désiré.” + +The judge smiled, as he said: + +“I do not understand the theory of your defense, Arsène Lupin. If you +are seeking to avoid responsibility for your crimes on the ground of +imbecility, such a line of defense is open to you. But I shall proceed +with the trial and pay no heed to your vagaries.” + +He then narrated at length the various thefts, swindles and forgeries +charged against Lupin. Sometimes he questioned the prisoner, but the +latter simply grunted or remained silent. The examination of witnesses +commenced. Some of the evidence given was immaterial; other portions +of it seemed more important, but through all of it there ran a vein of +contradictions and inconsistencies. A wearisome obscurity enveloped +the proceedings, until Detective Ganimard was called as a witness; then +interest was revived. + +From the beginning the actions of the veteran detective appeared strange +and unaccountable. He was nervous and ill at ease. Several times he +looked at the prisoner, with obvious doubt and anxiety. Then, with his +hands resting on the rail in front of him, he recounted the events in +which he had participated, including his pursuit of the prisoner +across Europe and his arrival in America. He was listened to with great +avidity, as his capture of Arsène Lupin was well known to everyone +through the medium of the press. Toward the close of his testimony, +after referring to his conversations with Arsène Lupin, he stopped, +twice, embarrassed and undecided. It was apparent that he was possessed +of some thought which he feared to utter. The judge said to him, +sympathetically: + +“If you are ill, you may retire for the present.” + +“No, no, but---” + +He stopped, looked sharply at the prisoner, and said: + +“I ask permission to scrutinize the prisoner at closer range. There is +some mystery about him that I must solve.” + +He approached the accused man, examined him attentively for several +minutes, then returned to the witness-stand, and, in an almost solemn +voice, he said: + +“I declare, on oath, that the prisoner now before me is not Arsène +Lupin.” + +A profound silence followed the statement. The judge, nonplused for a +moment, exclaimed: + +“Ah! What do you mean? That is absurd!” + +The detective continued: + +“At first sight there is a certain resemblance, but if you carefully +consider the nose, the mouth, the hair, the color of skin, you will +see that it is not Arsène Lupin. And the eyes! Did he ever have those +alcoholic eyes!” + +“Come, come, witness! What do you mean? Do you pretend to say that we +are trying the wrong man?” + +“In my opinion, yes. Arsène Lupin has, in some manner, contrived to put +this poor devil in his place, unless this man is a willing accomplice.” + +This dramatic dénouement caused much laughter and excitement amongst the +spectators. The judge adjourned the trial, and sent for Mon. Bouvier, +the gaoler, and guards employed in the prison. + +When the trial was resumed, Mon. Bouvier and the gaoler examined the +accused and declared that there was only a very slight resemblance +between the prisoner and Arsène Lupin. + +“Well, then!” exclaimed the judge, “who is this man? Where does he come +from? What is he in prison for?” + +Two of the prison-guards were called and both of them declared that the +prisoner was Arsène Lupin. The judged breathed once more. + +But one of the guards then said: + +“Yes, yes, I think it is he.” + +“What!” cried the judge, impatiently, “you *think* it is he! What do you +mean by that?” + +“Well, I saw very little of the prisoner. He was placed in my charge in +the evening and, for two months, he seldom stirred, but laid on his bed +with his face to the wall.” + +“What about the time prior to those two months?” + +“Before that he occupied a cell in another part of the prison. He was +not in cell 24.” + +Here the head gaoler interrupted, and said: + +“We changed him to another cell after his attempted escape.” + +“But you, monsieur, you have seen him during those two months?” + +“I had no occasion to see him. He was always quiet and orderly.” + +“And this prisoner is not Arsène Lupin?” + +“No.” + +“Then who is he?” demanded the judge. + +“I do not know.” + +“Then we have before us a man who was substituted for Arsène Lupin, two +months ago. How do you explain that?” + +“I cannot.” + +In absolute despair, the judge turned to the accused and addressed him +in a conciliatory tone: + +“Prisoner, can you tell me how, and since when, you became an inmate of +the Prison de la Santé?” + +The engaging manner of the judge was calculated to disarm the mistrust +and awaken the understanding of the accused man. He tried to reply. +Finally, under clever and gentle questioning, he succeeded in framing a +few phrases from which the following story was gleaned: Two months ago +he had been taken to the Dépôt, examined and released. As he was leaving +the building, a free man, he was seized by two guards and placed in the +prison-van. Since then he had occupied cell 24. He was contented there, +plenty to eat, and he slept well--so he did not complain. + +All that seemed probable; and, amidst the mirth and excitement of the +spectators, the judge adjourned the trial until the story could be +investigated and verified. + +* * * * * + +The following facts were at once established by an examination of the +prison records: Eight weeks before a man named Baudru Désiré had slept +at the Dépôt. He was released the next day, and left the Dépôt at two +o’clock in the afternoon. On the same day at two o’clock, having been +examined for the last time, Arsène Lupin left the Dépôt in a prison-van. + +Had the guards made a mistake? Had they been deceived by the resemblance +and carelessly substituted this man for their prisoner? + +Another question suggested itself: Had the substitution been arranged in +advance? In that event Baudru must have been an accomplice and must have +caused his own arrest for the express purpose of taking Lupin’s +place. But then, by what miracle had such a plan, based on a series of +improbable chances, been carried to success? + +Baudru Désiré was turned over to the anthropological service; they +had never seen anything like him. However, they easily traced his past +history. He was known at Courbevois, at Asnières and at Levallois. +He lived on alms and slept in one of those rag-picker’s huts near the +barrier de Ternes. He had disappeared from there a year ago. + +Had he been enticed away by Arsène Lupin? There was no evidence to that +effect. And even if that was so, it did not explain the flight of the +prisoner. That still remained a mystery. Amongst twenty theories which +sought to explain it, not one was satisfactory. Of the escape itself, +there was no doubt; an escape that was incomprehensible, sensational, +in which the public, as well as the officers of the law, could detect +a carefully prepared plan, a combination of circumstances marvelously +dove-tailed, whereof the dénouement fully justified the confident +prediction of Arsène Lupin: “I shall not be present at my trial.” + +After a month of patient investigation, the problem remained unsolved. +The poor devil of a Baudru could not be kept in prison indefinitely, and +to place him on trial would be ridiculous. There was no charge against +him. Consequently, he was released; but the chief of the Sûrété resolved +to keep him under surveillance. This idea originated with Ganimard. From +his point of view there was neither complicity nor chance. Baudru was +an instrument upon which Arsène Lupin had played with his extraordinary +skill. Baudru, when set at liberty, would lead them to Arsène Lupin or, +at least, to some of his accomplices. The two inspectors, Folenfant and +Dieuzy, were assigned to assist Ganimard. + +One foggy morning in January the prison gates opened and Baudru Désiré +stepped forth--a free man. At first he appeared to be quite embarrassed, +and walked like a person who has no precise idea whither he is going. +He followed the rue de la Santé and the rue Saint Jacques. He stopped in +front of an old-clothes shop, removed his jacket and his vest, sold his +vest on which he realized a few sous; then, replacing his jacket, he +proceeded on his way. He crossed the Seine. At the Châtelet an +omnibus passed him. He wished to enter it, but there was no place. +The controller advised him to secure a number, so he entered the +waiting-room. + +Ganimard called to his two assistants, and, without removing his eyes +from the waiting room, he said to them: + +“Stop a carriage.... no, two. That will be better. I will go with one of +you, and we will follow him.” + +The men obeyed. Yet Baudru did not appear. Ganimard entered the +waiting-room. It was empty. + +“Idiot that I am!” he muttered, “I forgot there was another exit.” + +There was an interior corridor extending from the waiting-room to the +rue Saint Martin. Ganimard rushed through it and arrived just in time to +observe Baudru upon the top of the Batignolles-Jardin de Plates omnibus +as it was turning the corner of the rue de Rivoli. He ran and caught +the omnibus. But he had lost his two assistants. He must continue the +pursuit alone. In his anger he was inclined to seize the man by the +collar without ceremony. Was it not with premeditation and by means of +an ingenious ruse that his pretended imbecile had separated him from his +assistants? + +He looked at Baudru. The latter was asleep on the bench, his head +rolling from side to side, his mouth half-opened, and an incredible +expression of stupidity on his blotched face. No, such an adversary was +incapable of deceiving old Ganimard. It was a stroke of luck--nothing +more. + +At the Galleries-Lafayette, the man leaped from the omnibus and took +the La Muette tramway, following the boulevard Haussmann and the +avenue Victor Hugo. Baudru alighted at La Muette station; and, with a +nonchalant air, strolled into the Bois de Boulogne. + +He wandered through one path after another, and sometimes retraced his +steps. What was he seeking? Had he any definite object? At the end of +an hour, he appeared to be faint from fatigue, and, noticing a bench, he +sat down. The spot, not far from Auteuil, on the edge of a pond hidden +amongst the trees, was absolutely deserted. After the lapse of another +half-hour, Ganimard became impatient and resolved to speak to the man. +He approached and took a seat beside Baudru, lighted a cigarette, traced +some figures in the sand with the end of his cane, and said: + +“It’s a pleasant day.” + +No response. But, suddenly the man burst into laughter, a happy, +mirthful laugh, spontaneous and irresistible. Ganimard felt his hair +stand on end in horror and surprise. It was that laugh, that infernal +laugh he knew so well! + +With a sudden movement, he seized the man by the collar and looked at +him with a keen, penetrating gaze; and found that he no longer saw the +man Baudru. To be sure, he saw Baudru; but, at the same time, he saw the +other, the real man, Lupin. He discovered the intense life in the eyes, +he filled up the shrunken features, he perceived the real flesh beneath +the flabby skin, the real mouth through the grimaces that deformed it. +Those were the eyes and mouth of the other, and especially his keen, +alert, mocking expression, so clear and youthful! + +“Arsène Lupin, Arsène Lupin,” he stammered. + +Then, in a sudden fit of rage, he seized Lupin by the throat and tried +to hold him down. In spite of his fifty years, he still possessed +unusual strength, whilst his adversary was apparently in a weak +condition. But the struggle was a brief one. Arsène Lupin made only a +slight movement, and, as suddenly as he had made the attack, Ganimard +released his hold. His right arm fell inert, useless. + +“If you had taken lessons in jiu-jitsu at the quai des Orfèvres,” said +Lupin, “you would know that that blow is called udi-shi-ghi in Japanese. +A second more, and I would have broken your arm and that would have been +just what you deserve. I am surprised that you, an old friend whom I +respect and before whom I voluntarily expose my incognito, should abuse +my confidence in that violent manner. It is unworthy--Ah! What’s the +matter?” + +Ganimard did not reply. That escape for which he deemed himself +responsible--was it not he, Ganimard, who, by his sensational evidence, +had led the court into serious error? That escape appeared to him like +a dark cloud on his professional career. A tear rolled down his cheek to +his gray moustache. + +“Oh! mon Dieu, Ganimard, don’t take it to heart. If you had not spoken, +I would have arranged for some one else to do it. I couldn’t allow poor +Baudru Désiré to be convicted.” + +“Then,” murmured Ganimard, “it was you that was there? And now you are +here?” + +“It is I, always I, only I.” + +“Can it be possible?” + +“Oh, it is not the work of a sorcerer. Simply, as the judge remarked at +the trial, the apprenticeship of a dozen years that equips a man to cope +successfully with all the obstacles in life.” + +“But your face? Your eyes?” + +“You can understand that if I worked eighteen months with Doctor Altier +at the Saint-Louis hospital, it was not out of love for the work. I +considered that he, who would one day have the honor of calling himself +Arsène Lupin, ought to be exempt from the ordinary laws governing +appearance and identity. Appearance? That can be modified at will. For +instance, a hypodermic injection of paraffine will puff up the skin at +the desired spot. Pyrogallic acid will change your skin to that of an +Indian. The juice of the greater celandine will adorn you with the most +beautiful eruptions and tumors. Another chemical affects the growth of +your beard and hair; another changes the tone of your voice. Add to that +two months of dieting in cell 24; exercises repeated a thousand times to +enable me to hold my features in a certain grimace, to carry my head +at a certain inclination, and adapt my back and shoulders to a stooping +posture. Then five drops of atropine in the eyes to make them haggard +and wild, and the trick is done.” + +“I do not understand how you deceived the guards.” + +“The change was progressive. The evolution was so gradual that they +failed to notice it.” + +“But Baudru Désiré?” + +“Baudru exists. He is a poor, harmless fellow whom +I met last year; and, really, he bears a certain resemblance to me. +Considering my arrest as a possible event, I took charge of Baudru and +studied the points wherein we differed in appearance with a view to +correct them in my own person. My friends caused him to remain at the +Dépôt overnight, and to leave there next day about the same hour as I +did--a coincidence easily arranged. Of course, it was necessary to have +a record of his detention at the Dépôt in order to establish the fact +that such a person was a reality; otherwise, the police would have +sought elsewhere to find out my identity. But, in offering to them this +excellent Baudru, it was inevitable, you understand, inevitable that +they would seize upon him, and, despite the insurmountable difficulties +of a substitution, they would prefer to believe in a substitution than +confess their ignorance.” + +“Yes, yes, of course,” said Ganimard. + +“And then,” exclaimed Arsène Lupin, “I held in my hands a trump-card: an +anxious public watching and waiting for my escape. And that is the fatal +error into which you fell, you and the others, in the course of that +fascinating game pending between me and the officers of the law wherein +the stake was my liberty. And you supposed that I was playing to the +gallery; that I was intoxicated with my success. I, Arsène Lupin, guilty +of such weakness! Oh, no! And, no longer ago than the Cahorn affair, you +said: “When Arsène Lupin cries from the housetops that he will escape, +he has some object in view.” But, sapristi, you must understand that +in order to escape I must create, in advance, a public belief in +that escape, a belief amounting to an article of faith, an absolute +conviction, a reality as glittering as the sun. And I did create that +belief that Arsène Lupin would escape, that Arsène Lupin would not be +present at his trial. And when you gave your evidence and said: “That +man is not Arsène Lupin,” everybody was prepared to believe you. Had one +person doubted it, had any one uttered this simple restriction: Suppose +it is Arsène Lupin?--from that moment, I was lost. If anyone had +scrutinized my face, not imbued with the idea that I was not Arsène +Lupin, as you and the others did at my trial, but with the idea that I +might be Arsène Lupin; then, despite all my precautions, I should have +been recognized. But I had no fear. Logically, psychologically, no once +could entertain the idea that I was Arsène Lupin.” + +He grasped Ganimard’s hand. + +“Come, Ganimard, confess that on the Wednesday after our conversation in +the prison de la Santé, you expected me at your house at four o’clock, +exactly as I said I would go.” + +“And your prison-van?” said Ganimard, evading the question. + +“A bluff! Some of my friends secured that old unused van and wished +to make the attempt. But I considered it impractical without the +concurrence of a number of unusual circumstances. However, I found +it useful to carry out that attempted escape and give it the widest +publicity. An audaciously planned escape, though not completed, gave to +the succeeding one the character of reality simply by anticipation.” + +“So that the cigar....” + +“Hollowed by myself, as well as the knife.” + +“And the letters?” + +“Written by me.” + +“And the mysterious correspondent?” + +“Did not exist.” + +Ganimard reflected a moment, then said: + +“When the anthropological service had Baudru’s case under consideration, +why did they not perceive that his measurements coincided with those of +Arsène Lupin?” + +“My measurements are not in existence.” + +“Indeed!” + +“At least, they are false. I have given considerable attention to +that question. In the first place, the Bertillon system records the +visible marks of identification--and you have seen that they are not +infallible--and, after that, the measurements of the head, the +fingers, the ears, etc. Of course, such measurements are more or less +infallible.” + +“Absolutely.” + +“No; but it costs money to get around them. Before we left America, one +of the employees of the service there accepted so much money to insert +false figures in my measurements. Consequently, Baudru’s measurements +should not agree with those of Arsène Lupin.” + +After a short silence, Ganimard asked: + +“What are you going to do now?” + +“Now,” replied Lupin, “I am going to take a rest, enjoy the best of food +and drink and gradually recover my former healthy condition. It is all +very well to become Baudru or some other person, on occasion, and to +change your personality as you do your shirt, but you soon grow weary of +the change. I feel exactly as I imagine the man who lost his shadow must +have felt, and I shall be glad to be Arsène Lupin once more.” + +He walked to and fro for a few minutes, then, stopping in front of +Ganimard, he said: + +“You have nothing more to say, I suppose?” + +“Yes. I should like to know if you intend to reveal the true state of +facts connected with your escape. The mistake that I made---” + +“Oh! no one will ever know that it was Arsène Lupin who was discharged. +It is to my own interest to surround myself with mystery, and therefore +I shall permit my escape to retain its almost miraculous character. So, +have no fear on that score, my dear friend. I shall say nothing. And +now, good-bye. I am going out to dinner this evening, and have only +sufficient time to dress.” + +“I though you wanted a rest.” + +“Ah! there are duties to society that one cannot avoid. To-morrow, I +shall rest.” + +“Where do you dine to-night?” + +“With the British Ambassador!” + + + + +IV. The Mysterious Traveller + + +The evening before, I had sent my automobile to Rouen by the highway. +I was to travel to Rouen by rail, on my way to visit some friends that +live on the banks of the Seine. + +At Paris, a few minutes before the train started, seven gentlemen +entered my compartment; five of them were smoking. No matter that the +journey was a short one, the thought of traveling with such a company +was not agreeable to me, especially as the car was built on the old +model, without a corridor. I picked up my overcoat, my newspapers and my +time-table, and sought refuge in a neighboring compartment. + +It was occupied by a lady, who, at sight of me, made a gesture of +annoyance that did not escape my notice, and she leaned toward a +gentleman who was standing on the step and was, no doubt, her husband. +The gentleman scrutinized me closely, and, apparently, my appearance did +not displease him, for he smiled as he spoke to his wife with the air +of one who reassures a frightened child. She smiled also, and gave me a +friendly glance as if she now understood that I was one of those gallant +men with whom a woman can remain shut up for two hours in a little box, +six feet square, and have nothing to fear. + +Her husband said to her: + +“I have an important appointment, my dear, and cannot wait any longer. +Adieu.” + +He kissed her affectionately and went away. His wife threw him a few +kisses and waved her handkerchief. The whistle sounded, and the train +started. + +At that precise moment, and despite the protests of the guards, the door +was opened, and a man rushed into our compartment. My companion, who +was standing and arranging her luggage, uttered a cry of terror and fell +upon the seat. I am not a coward--far from it--but I confess that such +intrusions at the last minute are always disconcerting. They have a +suspicious, unnatural aspect. + +However, the appearance of the new arrival greatly modified the +unfavorable impression produced by his precipitant action. He was +correctly and elegantly dressed, wore a tasteful cravat, correct gloves, +and his face was refined and intelligent. But, where the devil had I +seen that face before? Because, beyond all possible doubt, I had seen +it. And yet the memory of it was so vague and indistinct that I felt it +would be useless to try to recall it at that time. + +Then, directing my attention to the lady, I was amazed at the pallor +and anxiety I saw in her face. She was looking at her neighbor--they +occupied seats on the same side of the compartment--with an expression +of intense alarm, and I perceived that one of her trembling hands was +slowly gliding toward a little traveling bag that was lying on the seat +about twenty inches from her. She finished by seizing it and nervously +drawing it to her. Our eyes met, and I read in hers so much anxiety and +fear that I could not refrain from speaking to her: + +“Are you ill, madame? Shall I open the window?” + +Her only reply was a gesture indicating that she was afraid of our +companion. I smiled, as her husband had done, shrugged my shoulders, and +explained to her, in pantomime, that she had nothing to fear, that I +was there, and, besides, the gentleman appeared to be a very harmless +individual. At that moment, he turned toward us, scrutinized both of us +from head to foot, then settled down in his corner and paid us no more +attention. + +After a short silence, the lady, as if she had mustered all her energy +to perform a desperate act, said to me, in an almost inaudible voice: + +“Do you know who is on our train?” + +“Who?” + +“He.... he....I assure you....” + +“Who is he?” + +“Arsène Lupin!” + +She had not taken her eyes off our companion, and it was to him rather +than to me that she uttered the syllables of that disquieting name. +He drew his hat over his face. Was that to conceal his agitation or, +simply, to arrange himself for sleep? Then I said to her: + +“Yesterday, through contumacy, Arsène Lupin was sentenced to twenty +years’ imprisonment at hard labor. Therefore it is improbable that he +would be so imprudent, to-day, as to show himself in public. Moreover, +the newspapers have announced his appearance in Turkey since his escape +from the Santé.” + +“But he is on this train at the present moment,” the lady proclaimed, +with the obvious intention of being heard by our companion; “my husband +is one of the directors in the penitentiary service, and it was the +stationmaster himself who told us that a search was being made for +Arsène Lupin.” + +“They may have been mistaken---” + +“No; he was seen in the waiting-room. He bought a first-class ticket for +Rouen.” + +“He has disappeared. The guard at the waiting-room door did not see him +pass, and it is supposed that he had got into the express that leaves +ten minutes after us.” + +“In that case, they will be sure to catch him.” + +“Unless, at the last moment, he leaped from that train to come here, +into our train.... which is quite probable.... which is almost certain.” + +“If so, he will be arrested just the same; for the employees and guards +would no doubt observe his passage from one train to the other, and, +when we arrive at Rouen, they will arrest him there.” + +“Him--never! He will find some means of escape.” + +“In that case, I wish him ‘bon voyage.’” + +“But, in the meantime, think what he may do!” + +“What?” + +“I don’t know. He may do anything.” + +She was greatly agitated, and, truly, the situation justified, to some +extent, her nervous excitement. I was impelled to say to her: + +“Of course, there are many strange coincidences, but you need have no +fear. Admitting that Arsène Lupin is on this train, he will not commit +any indiscretion; he will be only too happy to escape the peril that +already threatens him.” + +My words did not reassure her, but she remained silent for a time. I +unfolded my newspapers and read reports of Arsène Lupin’s trial, but, as +they contained nothing that was new to me, I was not greatly interested. +Moreover, I was tired and sleepy. I felt my eyelids close and my head +drop. + +“But, monsieur, you are not going to sleep!” + +She seized my newspaper, and looked at me with indignation. + +“Certainly not,” I said. + +“That would be very imprudent.” + +“Of course,” I assented. + +I struggled to keep awake. I looked through the window at the landscape +and the fleeting clouds, but in a short time all that became confused +and indistinct; the image of the nervous lady and the drowsy gentleman +were effaced from my memory, and I was buried in the soothing depths of +a profound sleep. The tranquility of my response was soon disturbed by +disquieting dreams, wherein a creature that had played the part and bore +the name of Arsène Lupin held an important place. He appeared to me +with his back laden with articles of value; he leaped over walls, and +plundered castles. But the outlines of that creature, who was no longer +Arsène Lupin, assumed a more definite form. He came toward me, growing +larger and larger, leaped into the compartment with incredible agility, +and landed squarely on my chest. With a cry of fright and pain, I awoke. +The man, the traveller, our companion, with his knee on my breast, held +me by the throat. + +My sight was very indistinct, for my eyes were suffused with blood. +I could see the lady, in a corner of the compartment, convulsed +with fright. I tried even not to resist. Besides, I did not have the +strength. My temples throbbed; I was almost strangled. One minute more, +and I would have breathed my last. The man must have realized it, for he +relaxed his grip, but did not remove his hand. Then he took a cord, in +which he had prepared a slip-knot, and tied my wrists together. In an +instant, I was bound, gagged, and helpless. + +Certainly, he accomplished the trick with an ease and skill that +revealed the hand of a master; he was, no doubt, a professional thief. +Not a word, not a nervous movement; only coolness and audacity. And I +was there, lying on the bench, bound like a mummy, I--Arsène Lupin! + +It was anything but a laughing matter, and yet, despite the gravity +of the situation, I keenly appreciated the humor and irony that it +involved. Arsène Lupin seized and bound like a novice! robbed as if I +were an unsophisticated rustic--for, you must understand, the scoundrel +had deprived me of my purse and wallet! Arsène Lupin, a victim, duped, +vanquished....What an adventure! + +The lady did not move. He did not even notice her. He contented himself +with picking up her traveling-bag that had fallen to the floor and +taking from it the jewels, purse, and gold and silver trinkets that it +contained. The lady opened her eyes, trembled with fear, drew the rings +from her fingers and handed them to the man as if she wished to spare +him unnecessary trouble. He took the rings and looked at her. She +swooned. + +Then, quite unruffled, he resumed his seat, lighted a cigarette, and +proceeded to examine the treasure that he had acquired. The examination +appeared to give him perfect satisfaction. + +But I was not so well satisfied. I do not speak of the twelve thousand +francs of which I had been unduly deprived: that was only a temporary +loss, because I was certain that I would recover possession of that +money after a very brief delay, together with the important papers +contained in my wallet: plans, specifications, addresses, lists of +correspondents, and compromising letters. But, for the moment, a more +immediate and more serious question troubled me: How would this affair +end? What would be the outcome of this adventure? + +As you can imagine, the disturbance created by my passage through the +Saint-Lazare station has not escaped my notice. Going to visit friends +who knew me under the name of Guillaume Berlat, and amongst whom my +resemblance to Arsène Lupin was a subject of many innocent jests, I +could not assume a disguise, and my presence had been remarked. +So, beyond question, the commissary of police at Rouen, notified by +telegraph, and assisted by numerous agents, would be awaiting the train, +would question all suspicious passengers, and proceed to search the +cars. + +Of course, I had foreseen all that, but it had not disturbed me, as I +was certain that the police of Rouen would not be any shrewder than the +police of Paris and that I could escape recognition; would it not be +sufficient for me to carelessly display my card as “député,” thanks +to which I had inspired complete confidence in the gate-keeper at +Saint-Lazare?--But the situation was greatly changed. I was no longer +free. It was impossible to attempt one of my usual tricks. In one of +the compartments, the commissary of police would find Mon. Arsène Lupin, +bound hand and foot, as docile as a lamb, packed up, all ready to be +dumped into a prison-van. He would have simply to accept delivery of the +parcel, the same as if it were so much merchandise or a basket of fruit +and vegetables. Yet, to avoid that shameful dénouement, what could I +do?--bound and gagged, as I was? And the train was rushing on toward +Rouen, the next and only station. + +Another problem was presented, in which I was less interested, but +the solution of which aroused my professional curiosity. What were the +intentions of my rascally companion? Of course, if I had been alone, he +could, on our arrival at Rouen, leave the car slowly and fearlessly. But +the lady? As soon as the door of the compartment should be opened, the +lady, now so quiet and humble, would scream and call for help. That was +the dilemma that perplexed me! Why had he not reduced her to a helpless +condition similar to mine? That would have given him ample time to +disappear before his double crime was discovered. + +He was still smoking, with his eyes fixed upon the window that was +now being streaked with drops of rain. Once he turned, picked up my +time-table, and consulted it. + +The lady had to feign a continued lack of consciousness in order to +deceive the enemy. But fits of coughing, provoked by the smoke, exposed +her true condition. As to me, I was very uncomfortable, and very tired. +And I meditated; I plotted. + +The train was rushing on, joyously, intoxicated with its own speed. + +Saint Etienne!....At that moment, the man arose and took two steps +toward us, which caused the lady to utter a cry of alarm and fall into +a genuine swoon. What was the man about to do? He lowered the window +on our side. A heavy rain was now falling, and, by a gesture, the man +expressed his annoyance at his not having an umbrella or an overcoat. He +glanced at the rack. The lady’s umbrella was there. He took it. He also +took my overcoat and put it on. + +We were now crossing the Seine. He turned up the bottoms of his +trousers, then leaned over and raised the exterior latch of the door. +Was he going to throw himself upon the track? At that speed, it would +have been instant death. We now entered a tunnel. The man opened the +door half-way and stood on the upper step. What folly! The darkness, the +smoke, the noise, all gave a fantastic appearance to his actions. But +suddenly, the train diminished its speed. A moment later it increased +its speed, then slowed up again. Probably, some repairs were being made +in that part of the tunnel which obliged the trains to diminish their +speed, and the man was aware of the fact. He immediately stepped down to +the lower step, closed the door behind him, and leaped to the ground. He +was gone. + +The lady immediately recovered her wits, and her first act was to lament +the loss of her jewels. I gave her an imploring look. She understood, +and quickly removed the gag that stifled me. She wished to untie the +cords that bound me, but I prevented her. + +“No, no, the police must see everything exactly as it stands. I want +them to see what the rascal did to us.” + +“Suppose I pull the alarm-bell?” + +“Too late. You should have done that when he made the attack on me.” + +“But he would have killed me. Ah! monsieur, didn’t I tell you that he +was on this train. I recognized him from his portrait. And now he has +gone off with my jewels.” + +“Don’t worry. The police will catch him.” + +“Catch Arsène Lupin! Never.” + +“That depends on you, madame. Listen. When we arrive at Rouen, be at the +door and call. Make a noise. The police and the railway employees will +come. Tell what you have seen: the assault made on me and the flight of +Arsène Lupin. Give a description of him--soft hat, umbrella--yours--gray +overcoat....” + +“Yours,” said she. + +“What! mine? Not at all. It was his. I didn’t have any.” + +“It seems to me he didn’t have one when he came in.” + +“Yes, yes.... unless the coat was one that some one had forgotten and +left in the rack. At all events, he had it when he went away, and that +is the essential point. A gray overcoat--remember!....Ah! I forgot. +You must tell your name, first thing you do. Your husband’s official +position will stimulate the zeal of the police.” + +We arrived at the station. I gave her some further instructions in a +rather imperious tone: + +“Tell them my name--Guillaume Berlat. If necessary, say that you know +me. That will save time. We must expedite the preliminary investigation. +The important thing is the pursuit of Arsène Lupin. Your jewels, +remember! Let there be no mistake. Guillaume Berlat, a friend of your +husband.” + +“I understand....Guillaume Berlat.” + +She was already calling and gesticulating. As soon as the train stopped, +several men entered the compartment. The critical moment had come. + +Panting for breath, the lady exclaimed: + +“Arsène Lupin.... he attacked us.... he stole my jewels....I am Madame +Renaud.... my husband is a director of the penitentiary service....Ah! +here is my brother, Georges Ardelle, director of the Crédit +Rouennais.... you must know....” + +She embraced a young man who had just joined us, and whom the commissary +saluted. Then she continued, weeping: + +“Yes, Arsène Lupin.... while monsieur was sleeping, he seized him by the +throat....Mon. Berlat, a friend of my husband.” + +The commissary asked: + +“But where is Arsène Lupin?” + +“He leaped from the train, when passing through the tunnel.” + +“Are you sure that it was he?” + +“Am I sure! I recognized him perfectly. Besides, he was seen at the +Saint-Lazare station. He wore a soft hat---” + +“No, a hard felt, like that,” said the commissary, pointing to my hat. + +“He had a soft hat, I am sure,” repeated Madame Renaud, “and a gray +overcoat.” + +“Yes, that is right,” replied the commissary, “the telegram says he wore +a gray overcoat with a black velvet collar.” + +“Exactly, a black velvet collar,” exclaimed Madame Renaud, triumphantly. + +I breathed freely. Ah! the excellent friend I had in that little woman. + +The police agents had now released me. I bit my lips until they ran +blood. Stooping over, with my handkerchief over my mouth, an attitude +quite natural in a person who has remained for a long time in an +uncomfortable position, and whose mouth shows the bloody marks of the +gag, I addressed the commissary, in a weak voice: + +“Monsieur, it was Arsène Lupin. There is no doubt about that. If we make +haste, he can be caught yet. I think I may be of some service to you.” + +The railway car, in which the crime occurred, was detached from the +train to serve as a mute witness at the official investigation. The +train continued on its way to Havre. We were then conducted to the +station-master’s office through a crowd of curious spectators. + +Then, I had a sudden access of doubt and discretion. Under some pretext +or other, I must gain my automobile, and escape. To remain there was +dangerous. Something might happen; for instance, a telegram from Paris, +and I would be lost. + +Yes, but what about my thief? Abandoned to my own resources, in an +unfamiliar country, I could not hope to catch him. + +“Bah! I must make the attempt,” I said to myself. “It may be a difficult +game, but an amusing one, and the stake is well worth the trouble.” + +And when the commissary asked us to repeat the story of the robbery, I +exclaimed: + +“Monsieur, really, Arsène Lupin is getting the start of us. My +automobile is waiting in the courtyard. If you will be so kind as to use +it, we can try....” + +The commissary smiled, and replied: + +“The idea is a good one; so good, indeed, that it is already being +carried out. Two of my men have set out on bicycles. They have been gone +for some time.” + +“Where did they go?” + +“To the entrance of the tunnel. There, they will gather evidence, secure +witnesses, and follow on the track of Arsène Lupin.” + +I could not refrain from shrugging my shoulders, as I replied: + +“Your men will not secure any evidence or any witnesses.” + +“Really!” + +“Arsène Lupin will not allow anyone to see him emerge from the tunnel. +He will take the first road---” + +“To Rouen, where we will arrest him.” + +“He will not go to Rouen.” + +“Then he will remain in the vicinity, where his capture will be even +more certain.” + +“He will not remain in the vicinity.” + +“Oh! oh! And where will he hide?” + +I looked at my watch, and said: + +“At the present moment, Arsène Lupin is prowling around the station at +Darnétal. At ten fifty, that is, in twenty-two minutes from now, he will +take the train that goes from Rouen to Amiens.” + +“Do you think so? How do you know it?” + +“Oh! it is quite simple. While we were in the car, Arsène Lupin +consulted my railway guide. Why did he do it? Was there, not far from +the spot where he disappeared, another line of railway, a station +upon that line, and a train stopping at that station? On consulting my +railway guide, I found such to be the case.” + +“Really, monsieur,” said the commissary, “that is a marvelous deduction. +I congratulate you on your skill.” + +I was now convinced that I had made a mistake in displaying so much +cleverness. The commissary regarded me with astonishment, and I thought +a slight suspicion entered his official mind....Oh! scarcely that, for +the photographs distributed broadcast by the police department were too +imperfect; they presented an Arsène Lupin so different from the one he +had before him, that he could not possibly recognize me by it. But, all +the same, he was troubled, confused and ill-at-ease. + +“Mon Dieu! nothing stimulates the comprehension so much as the loss of a +pocketbook and the desire to recover it. And it seems to me that if you +will give me two of your men, we may be able....” + +“Oh! I beg of you, monsieur le commissaire,” cried Madame Renaud, +“listen to Mon. Berlat.” + +The intervention of my excellent friend was decisive. Pronounced by her, +the wife of an influential official, the name of Berlat became really +my own, and gave me an identity that no mere suspicion could affect. The +commissary arose, and said: + +“Believe me, Monsieur Berlat, I shall be delighted to see you succeed. I +am as much interested as you are in the arrest of Arsène Lupin.” + +He accompanied me to the automobile, and introduced two of his men, +Honoré Massol and Gaston Delivet, who were assigned to assist me. My +chauffer cranked up the car and I took my place at the wheel. A few +seconds later, we left the station. I was saved. + +Ah! I must confess that in rolling over the boulevards that surrounded +the old Norman city, in my swift thirty-five horse-power Moreau-Lepton, +I experienced a deep feeling of pride, and the motor responded, +sympathetically to my desires. At right and left, the trees flew past +us with startling rapidity, and I, free, out of danger, had simply to +arrange my little personal affairs with the two honest representatives +of the Rouen police who were sitting behind me. Arsène Lupin was going +in search of Arsène Lupin! + +Modest guardians of social order--Gaston Delivet and Honoré Massol--how +valuable was your assistance! What would I have done without you? +Without you, many times, at the cross-roads, I might have taken the +wrong route! Without you, Arsène Lupin would have made a mistake, and +the other would have escaped! + +But the end was not yet. Far from it. I had yet to capture the thief and +recover the stolen papers. Under no circumstances must my two acolytes +be permitted to see those papers, much less to seize them. That was a +point that might give me some difficulty. + +We arrived at Darnétal three minutes after the departure of the train. +True, I had the consolation of learning that a man wearing a gray +overcoat with a black velvet collar had taken the train at the station. +He had bought a second-class ticket for Amiens. Certainly, my début as +detective was a promising one. + +Delivet said to me: + +“The train is express, and the next stop is Montérolier-Buchy in +nineteen minutes. If we do not reach there before Arsène Lupin, he can +proceed to Amiens, or change for the train going to Clères, and, from +that point, reach Dieppe or Paris.” + +“How far to Montérolier?” + +“Twenty-three kilometres.” + +“Twenty-three kilometres in nineteen minutes....We will be there ahead +of him.” + +We were off again! Never had my faithful Moreau-Repton responded to +my impatience with such ardor and regularity. It participated in my +anxiety. It indorsed my determination. It comprehended my animosity +against that rascally Arsène Lupin. The knave! The traitor! + +“Turn to the right,” cried Delivet, “then to the left.” + +We fairly flew, scarcely touching the ground. The mile-stones looked +like little timid beasts that vanished at our approach. Suddenly, at a +turn of the road, we saw a vortex of smoke. It was the Northern Express. +For a kilometre, it was a struggle, side by side, but an unequal +struggle in which the issue was certain. We won the race by twenty +lengths. + +In three seconds we were on the platform standing before the +second-class carriages. The doors were opened, and some passengers +alighted, but not my thief. We made a search through the compartments. +No sign of Arsène Lupin. + +“Sapristi!” I cried, “he must have recognized me in the automobile as we +were racing, side by side, and he leaped from the train.” + +“Ah! there he is now! crossing the track.” + +I started in pursuit of the man, followed by my two acolytes, or rather +followed by one of them, for the other, Massol, proved himself to be a +runner of exceptional speed and endurance. In a few moments, he had made +an appreciable gain upon the fugitive. The man noticed it, leaped over +a hedge, scampered across a meadow, and entered a thick grove. When we +reached this grove, Massol was waiting for us. He went no farther, for +fear of losing us. + +“Quite right, my dear friend,” I said. “After such a run, our victim +must be out of wind. We will catch him now.” + +I examined the surroundings with the idea of proceeding alone in the +arrest of the fugitive, in order to recover my papers, concerning which +the authorities would doubtless ask many disagreeable questions. Then I +returned to my companions, and said: + +“It is all quite easy. You, Massol, take your place at the left; you, +Delivet, at the right. From there, you can observe the entire posterior +line of the bush, and he cannot escape without you seeing him, except by +that ravine, and I shall watch it. If he does not come out voluntarily, +I will enter and drive him out toward one or the other of you. You have +simply to wait. Ah! I forgot: in case I need you, a pistol shot.” + +Massol and Delivet walked away to their respective posts. As soon as +they had disappeared, I entered the grove with the greatest precaution +so as to be neither seen nor heard. I encountered dense thickets, +through which narrow paths had been cut, but the overhanging boughs +compelled me to adopt a stooping posture. One of these paths led to a +clearing in which I found footsteps upon the wet grass. I followed them; +they led me to the foot of a mound which was surmounted by a deserted, +dilapidated hovel. + +“He must be there,” I said to myself. “It is a well-chosen retreat.” + +I crept cautiously to the side of the building. A slight noise informed +me that he was there; and, then, through an opening, I saw him. His back +was turned toward me. In two bounds, I was upon him. He tried to fire +a revolver that he held in his hand. But he had no time. I threw him to +the ground, in such a manner that his arms were beneath him, twisted and +helpless, whilst I held him down with my knee on his breast. + +“Listen, my boy,” I whispered in his ear. “I am Arsène Lupin. You are +to deliver over to me, immediately and gracefully, my pocketbook and the +lady’s jewels, and, in return therefore, I will save you from the police +and enroll you amongst my friends. One word: yes or no?” + +“Yes,” he murmured. + +“Very good. Your escape, this morning, was well planned. I congratulate +you.” + +I arose. He fumbled in his pocket, drew out a large knife and tried to +strike me with it. + +“Imbecile!” I exclaimed. + +With one hand, I parried the attack; with the other, I gave him a sharp +blow on the carotid artery. He fell--stunned! + +In my pocketbook, I recovered my papers and bank-notes. Out of +curiosity, I took his. Upon an envelope, addressed to him, I read his +name: Pierre Onfrey. It startled me. Pierre Onfrey, the assassin of the +rue Lafontaine at Auteuil! Pierre Onfrey, he who had cut the throats of +Madame Delbois and her two daughters. I leaned over him. Yes, those were +the features which, in the compartment, had evoked in me the memory of a +face I could not then recall. + +But time was passing. I placed in an envelope two bank-notes of one +hundred francs each, with a card bearing these words: “Arsène Lupin +to his worthy colleagues Honoré Massol and Gaston Delivet, as a slight +token of his gratitude.” I placed it in a prominent spot in the room, +where they would be sure to find it. Beside it, I placed Madame Renaud’s +handbag. Why could I not return it to the lady who had befriended me? +I must confess that I had taken from it everything that possessed any +interest or value, leaving there only a shell comb, a stick of rouge +Dorin for the lips, and an empty purse. But, you know, business +is business. And then, really, her husband is engaged in such a +dishonorable vocation! + +The man was becoming conscious. What was I to do? I was unable to save +him or condemn him. So I took his revolver and fired a shot in the air. + +“My two acolytes will come and attend to his case,” I said to myself, as +I hastened away by the road through the ravine. Twenty minutes later, I +was seated in my automobile. + +At four o’clock, I telegraphed to my friends at Rouen that an unexpected +event would prevent me from making my promised visit. Between ourselves, +considering what my friends must now know, my visit is postponed +indefinitely. A cruel disillusion for them! + +At six o’clock I was in Paris. The evening newspapers informed me that +Pierre Onfrey had been captured at last. + +Next day,--let us not despise the advantages of judicious +advertising,--the _Echo de France_ published this sensational item: + +“Yesterday, near Buchy, after numerous exciting incidents, Arsène Lupin +effected the arrest of Pierre Onfrey. The assassin of the rue Lafontaine +had robbed Madame Renaud, wife of the director in the penitentiary +service, in a railway carriage on the Paris-Havre line. Arsène Lupin +restored to Madame Renaud the hand-bag that contained her jewels, and +gave a generous recompense to the two detectives who had assisted him in +making that dramatic arrest.” + + + + +V. The Queen’s Necklace + + +Two or three times each year, on occasions of unusual importance, +such as the balls at the Austrian Embassy or the soirées of Lady +Billingstone, the Countess de Dreux-Soubise wore upon her white +shoulders “The Queen’s Necklace.” + +It was, indeed, the famous necklace, the legendary necklace that +Bohmer and Bassenge, court jewelers, had made for Madame Du Barry; the +veritable necklace that the Cardinal de Rohan-Soubise intended to give +to Marie-Antoinette, Queen of France; and the same that the adventuress +Jeanne de Valois, Countess de la Motte, had pulled to pieces one evening +in February, 1785, with the aid of her husband and their accomplice, +Rétaux de Villette. + +To tell the truth, the mounting alone was genuine. Rétaux de Villette +had kept it, whilst the Count de la Motte and his wife scattered to the +four winds of heaven the beautiful stones so carefully chosen by Bohmer. +Later, he sold the mounting to Gaston de Dreux-Soubise, nephew and heir +of the Cardinal, who re-purchased the few diamonds that remained in +the possession of the English jeweler, Jeffreys; supplemented them with +other stones of the same size but of much inferior quality, and thus +restored the marvelous necklace to the form in which it had come from +the hands of Bohmer and Bassenge. + +For nearly a century, the house of Dreux-Soubise had prided itself upon +the possession of this historic jewel. Although adverse circumstances +had greatly reduced their fortune, they preferred to curtail their +household expenses rather than part with this relic of royalty. More +particularly, the present count clung to it as a man clings to the +home of his ancestors. As a matter of prudence, he had rented a +safety-deposit box at the Crédit Lyonnais in which to keep it. He went +for it himself on the afternoon of the day on which his wife wished to +wear it, and he, himself, carried it back next morning. + +On this particular evening, at the reception given at the Palais +de Castille, the Countess achieved a remarkable success; and King +Christian, in whose honor the fête was given, commented on her grace +and beauty. The thousand facets of the diamond sparkled and shone like +flames of fire about her shapely neck and shoulders, and it is safe to +say that none but she could have borne the weight of such an ornament +with so much ease and grace. + +This was a double triumph, and the Count de Dreux was highly elated +when they returned to their chamber in the old house of the faubourg +Saint-Germain. He was proud of his wife, and quite as proud, perhaps, +of the necklace that had conferred added luster to his noble house +for generations. His wife, also, regarded the necklace with an almost +childish vanity, and it was not without regret that she removed it +from her shoulders and handed it to her husband who admired it as +passionately as if he had never seen it before. Then, having placed it +in its case of red leather, stamped with the Cardinal’s arms, he passed +into an adjoining room which was simply an alcove or cabinet that had +been cut off from their chamber, and which could be entered only by +means of a door at the foot of their bed. As he had done on previous +occasions, he hid it on a high shelf amongst hat-boxes and piles of +linen. He closed the door, and retired. + +Next morning, he arose about nine o’clock, intending to go to the Crédit +Lyonnais before breakfast. He dressed, drank a cup of coffee, and went +to the stables to give his orders. The condition of one of the horses +worried him. He caused it to be exercised in his presence. Then he +returned to his wife, who had not yet left the chamber. Her maid was +dressing her hair. When her husband entered, she asked: + +“Are you going out?” + +“Yes, as far as the bank.” + +“Of course. That is wise.” + +He entered the cabinet; but, after a few seconds, and without any sign +of astonishment, he asked: + +“Did you take it, my dear?” + +“What?....No, I have not taken anything.” + +“You must have moved it.” + +“Not at all. I have not even opened that door.” + +He appeared at the door, disconcerted, and stammered, in a scarcely +intelligible voice: + +“You haven’t....It wasn’t you?....Then....” + +She hastened to his assistance, and, together, they made a thorough +search, throwing the boxes to the floor and overturning the piles of +linen. Then the count said, quite discouraged: + +“It is useless to look any more. I put it here, on this shelf.” + +“You must be mistaken.” + +“No, no, it was on this shelf--nowhere else.” + +They lighted a candle, as the room was quite dark, and then carried out +all the linen and other articles that the room contained. And, when the +room was emptied, they confessed, in despair, that the famous necklace +had disappeared. Without losing time in vain lamentations, the countess +notified the commissary of police, Mon. Valorbe, who came at once, and, +after hearing their story, inquired of the count: + +“Are you sure that no one passed through your chamber during the night?” + +“Absolutely sure, as I am a very light sleeper. Besides, the chamber +door was bolted, and I remember unbolting it this morning when my wife +rang for her maid.” + +“And there is no other entrance to the cabinet?” + +“None.” + +“No windows?” + +“Yes, but it is closed up.” + +“I will look at it.” + +Candles were lighted, and Mon. Valorbe observed at once that the lower +half of the window was covered by a large press which was, however, so +narrow that it did not touch the casement on either side. + +“On what does this window open?” + +“A small inner court.” + +“And you have a floor above this?” + +“Two; but, on a level with the servant’s floor, there is a close grating +over the court. That is why this room is so dark.” + +When the press was moved, they found that the window was fastened, which +would not have been the case if anyone had entered that way. + +“Unless,” said the count, “they went out through our chamber.” + +“In that case, you would have found the door unbolted.” + +The commissary considered the situation for a moment, then asked the +countess: + +“Did any of your servants know that you wore the necklace last evening?” + +“Certainly; I didn’t conceal the fact. But nobody knew that it was +hidden in that cabinet.” + +“No one?” + +“No one.... unless....” + +“Be quite sure, madam, as it is a very important point.” + +She turned to her husband, and said: + +“I was thinking of Henriette.” + +“Henriette? She didn’t know where we kept it.” + +“Are you sure?” + +“Who is this woman Henriette?” asked Mon. Valorbe. + +“A school-mate, who was disowned by her family for marrying beneath her. +After her husband’s death, I furnished an apartment in this house for +her and her son. She is clever with her needle and has done some work +for me.” + +“What floor is she on?” + +“Same as ours.... at the end of the corridor.... and I think.... the +window of her kitchen....” + +“Opens on this little court, does it not?” + +“Yes, just opposite ours.” + +Mon. Valorbe then asked to see Henriette. They went to her apartment; +she was sewing, whilst her son Raoul, about six years old, was sitting +beside her, reading. The commissary was surprised to see the wretched +apartment that had been provided for the woman. It consisted of one room +without a fireplace, and a very small room that served as a kitchen. The +commissary proceeded to question her. She appeared to be overwhelmed on +learning of the theft. Last evening she had herself dressed the countess +and placed the necklace upon her shoulders. + +“Good God!” she exclaimed, “it can’t be possible!” + +“And you have no idea? Not the least suspicion? Is it possible that the +thief may have passed through your room?” + +She laughed heartily, never supposing that she could be an object of +suspicion. + +“But I have not left my room. I never go out. And, perhaps, you have not +seen?” + +She opened the kitchen window, and said: + +“See, it is at least three metres to the ledge of the opposite window.” + +“Who told you that we supposed the theft might have been committed in +that way?” + +“But.... the necklace was in the cabinet, wasn’t it?” + +“How do you know that?” + +“Why, I have always known that it was kept there at night. It had been +mentioned in my presence.” + +Her face, though still young, bore unmistakable traces of sorrow and +resignation. And it now assumed an expression of anxiety as if some +danger threatened her. She drew her son toward her. The child took her +hand, and kissed it affectionately. + +When they were alone again, the count said to the commissary: + +“I do not suppose you suspect Henriette. I can answer for her. She is +honesty itself.” + +“I quite agree with you,” replied Mon. Valorbe. “At most, I thought +there might have been an unconscious complicity. But I confess that even +that theory must be abandoned, as it does not help solve the problem now +before us.” + +The commissary of police abandoned the investigation, which was now +taken up and completed by the examining judge. He questioned the +servants, examined the condition of the bolt, experimented with the +opening and closing of the cabinet window, and explored the little court +from top to bottom. All was in vain. The bolt was intact. The window +could not be opened or closed from the outside. + +The inquiries especially concerned Henriette, for, in spite of +everything, they always turned in her direction. They made a thorough +investigation of her past life, and ascertained that, during the last +three years, she had left the house only four times, and her business, +on those occasions, was satisfactorily explained. As a matter of fact, +she acted as chambermaid and seamstress to the countess, who treated her +with great strictness and even severity. + +At the end of a week, the examining judge had secured no more definite +information than the commissary of police. The judge said: + +“Admitting that we know the guilty party, which we do not, we are +confronted by the fact that we do not know how the theft was +committed. We are brought face to face with two obstacles: a door and a +window--both closed and fastened. It is thus a double mystery. How could +anyone enter, and, moreover, how could any one escape, leaving behind +him a bolted door and a fastened window?” + +At the end of four months, the secret opinion of the judge was that the +count and countess, being hard pressed for money, which was their normal +condition, had sold the Queen’s Necklace. He closed the investigation. + +The loss of the famous jewel was a severe blow to the Dreux-Soubise. +Their credit being no longer propped up by the reserve fund that such a +treasure constituted, they found themselves confronted by more exacting +creditors and money-lenders. They were obliged to cut down to the quick, +to sell or mortgage every article that possessed any commercial value. +In brief, it would have been their ruin, if two large legacies from some +distant relatives had not saved them. + +Their pride also suffered a downfall, as if they had lost a quartering +from their escutcheon. And, strange to relate, it was upon her former +schoolmate, Henriette, that the countess vented her spleen. Toward +her, the countess displayed the most spiteful feelings, and even openly +accused her. First, Henriette was relegated to the servants’ quarters, +and, next day, discharged. + +For some time, the count and countess passed an uneventful life. They +traveled a great deal. Only one incident of record occurred during that +period. Some months after the departure of Henriette, the countess was +surprised when she received and read the following letter, signed by +Henriette: + +“Madame,” + +“I do not know how to thank you; for it was you, was it not, +who sent me that? It could not have been anyone else. No one but you +knows where I live. If I am wrong, excuse me, and accept my sincere +thanks for your past favors....” + +What did the letter mean? The present or past favors of the countess +consisted principally of injustice and neglect. Why, then, this letter +of thanks? + +When asked for an explanation, Henriette replied that she had received +a letter, through the mails, enclosing two bank-notes of one thousand +francs each. The envelope, which she enclosed with her reply, bore the +Paris post-mark, and was addressed in a handwriting that was obviously +disguised. Now, whence came those two thousand francs? Who had sent +them? And why had they sent them? + +Henriette received a similar letter and a like sum of money twelve +months later. And a third time; and a fourth; and each year for a period +of six years, with this difference, that in the fifth and sixth years +the sum was doubled. There was another difference: the post-office +authorities having seized one of the letters under the pretext that it +was not registered, the last two letters were duly sent according to the +postal regulations, the first dated from Saint-Germain, the other from +Suresnes. The writer signed the first one, “Anquety”; and the other, +“Péchard.” The addresses that he gave were false. + +At the end of six years, Henriette died, and the mystery remained +unsolved. + +* * * * * + +All these events are known to the public. The case was one of those +which excite public interest, and it was a strange coincidence that this +necklace, which had caused such a great commotion in France at the close +of the eighteenth century, should create a similar commotion a century +later. But what I am about to relate is known only to the parties +directly interested and a few others from whom the count exacted a +promise of secrecy. As it is probable that some day or other that +promise will be broken, I have no hesitation in rending the veil and +thus disclosing the key to the mystery, the explanation of the letter +published in the morning papers two days ago; an extraordinary letter +which increased, if possible, the mists and shadows that envelope this +inscrutable drama. + +Five days ago, a number of guests were dining with the Count de +Dreux-Soubise. There were several ladies present, including his two +nieces and his cousin, and the following gentlemen: the president of +Essaville, the deputy Bochas, the chevalier Floriani, whom the count had +known in Sicily, and General Marquis de Rouzières, an old club friend. + +After the repast, coffee was served by the ladies, who gave the +gentlemen permission to smoke their cigarettes, provided they would not +desert the salon. The conversation was general, and finally one of the +guests chanced to speak of celebrated crimes. And that gave the Marquis +de Rouzières, who delighted to tease the count, an opportunity to +mention the affair of the Queen’s Necklace, a subject that the count +detested. + +Each one expressed his own opinion of the affair; and, of course, their +various theories were not only contradictory but impossible. + +“And you, monsieur,” said the countess to the chevalier Floriani, “what +is your opinion?” + +“Oh! I--I have no opinion, madame.” + +All the guests protested; for the chevalier had just related in an +entertaining manner various adventures in which he had participated with +his father, a magistrate at Palermo, and which established his judgment +and taste in such manners. + +“I confess,” said he, “I have sometimes succeeded in unraveling +mysteries that the cleverest detectives have renounced; yet I do not +claim to be Sherlock Holmes. Moreover, I know very little about the +affair of the Queen’s Necklace.” + +Everybody now turned to the count, who was thus obliged, quite +unwillingly, to narrate all the circumstances connected with the theft. +The chevalier listened, reflected, asked a few questions, and said: + +“It is very strange.... at first sight, the problem appears to be a very +simple one.” + +The count shrugged his shoulders. The others drew closer to the +chevalier, who continued, in a dogmatic tone: + +“As a general rule, in order to find the author of a crime or a theft, +it is necessary to determine how that crime or theft was committed, or, +at least, how it could have been committed. In the present case, nothing +is more simple, because we are face to face, not with several theories, +but with one positive fact, that is to say: the thief could only enter +by the chamber door or the window of the cabinet. Now, a person cannot +open a bolted door from the outside. Therefore, he must have entered +through the window.” + +“But it was closed and fastened, and we found it fastened afterward,” + declared the count. + +“In order to do that,” continued Floriani, without heeding the +interruption, “he had simply to construct a bridge, a plank or a ladder, +between the balcony of the kitchen and the ledge of the window, and as +the jewel-case---” + +“But I repeat that the window was fastened,” exclaimed the count, +impatiently. + +This time, Floriani was obliged to reply. He did so with the greatest +tranquility, as if the objection was the most insignificant affair in +the world. + +“I will admit that it was; but is there not a transom in the upper part +of the window?” + +“How do you know that?” + +“In the first place, that was customary in houses of that date; and, +in the second place, without such a transom, the theft cannot be +explained.” + +“Yes, there is one, but it was closed, the same as the window. +Consequently, we did not pay attention to it.” + +“That was a mistake; for, if you had examined it, you would have found +that it had been opened.” + +“But how?” + +“I presume that, like all others, it opens by means of a wire with a +ring on the lower end.” + +“Yes, but I do not see---” + +“Now, through a hole in the window, a person could, by the aid of some +instrument, let us say a poker with a hook at the end, grip the ring, +pull down, and open the transom.” + +The count laughed and said: + +“Excellent! excellent! Your scheme is very cleverly constructed, but you +overlook one thing, monsieur, there is no hole in the window.” + +“There was a hole.” + +“Nonsense, we would have seen it.” + +“In order to see it, you must look for it, and no one has looked. The +hole is there; it must be there, at the side of the window, in the +putty. In a vertical direction, of course.” + +The count arose. He was greatly excited. He paced up and down the room, +two or three times, in a nervous manner; then, approaching Floriani, +said: + +“Nobody has been in that room since; nothing has been changed.” + +“Very well, monsieur, you can easily satisfy yourself that my +explanation is correct.” + +“It does not agree with the facts established by the examining judge. +You have seen nothing, and yet you contradict all that we have seen and +all that we know.” + +Floriani paid no attention to the count’s petulance. He simply smiled +and said: + +“Mon Dieu, monsieur, I submit my theory; that is all. If I am mistaken, +you can easily prove it.” + +“I will do so at once....I confess that your assurance---” + +The count muttered a few more words; then suddenly rushed to the door +and passed out. Not a word was uttered in his absence; and this profound +silence gave the situation an air of almost tragic importance. Finally, +the count returned. He was pale and nervous. He said to his friends, in +a trembling voice: + +“I beg your pardon.... the revelations of the chevalier were so +unexpected....I should never have thought....” + +His wife questioned him, eagerly: + +“Speak.... what is it?” + +He stammered: “The hole is there, at the very spot, at the side of the +window---” + +He seized the chevalier’s arm, and said to him in an imperious tone: + +“Now, monsieur, proceed. I admit that you are right so far, but +now.... that is not all.... go on.... tell us the rest of it.” + +Floriani disengaged his arm gently, and, after a moment, continued: + +“Well, in my opinion, this is what happened. The thief, knowing that the +countess was going to wear the necklace that evening, had prepared his +gangway or bridge during your absence. He watched you through the window +and saw you hide the necklace. Afterward, he cut the glass and pulled +the ring.” + +“Ah! but the distance was so great that it would be impossible for him +to reach the window-fastening through the transom.” + +“Well, then, if he could not open the window by reaching through the +transom, he must have crawled through the transom.” + +“Impossible; it is too small. No man could crawl through it.” + +“Then it was not a man,” declared Floriani. + +“What!” + +“If the transom is too small to admit a man, it must have been a child.” + +“A child!” + +“Did you not say that your friend Henriette had a son?” + +“Yes; a son named Raoul.” + +“Then, in all probability, it was Raoul who committed the theft.” + +“What proof have you of that?” + +“What proof! Plenty of it....For instance---” + +He stopped, and reflected for a moment, then continued: + +“For instance, that gangway or bridge. It is improbable that the child +could have brought it in from outside the house and carried it away +again without being observed. He must have used something close at hand. +In the little room used by Henriette as a kitchen, were there not some +shelves against the wall on which she placed her pans and dishes?” + +“Two shelves, to the best of my memory.” + +“Are you sure that those shelves are really fastened to the wooden +brackets that support them? For, if they are not, we could be justified +in presuming that the child removed them, fastened them together, and +thus formed his bridge. Perhaps, also, since there was a stove, we might +find the bent poker that he used to open the transom.” + +Without saying a word, the count left the room; and, this time, those +present did not feel the nervous anxiety they had experienced the +first time. They were confident that Floriani was right, and no one was +surprised when the count returned and declared: + +“It was the child. Everything proves it.” + +“You have seen the shelves and the poker?” + +“Yes. The shelves have been unnailed, and the poker is there yet.” + +But the countess exclaimed: + +“You had better say it was his mother. Henriette is the guilty party. +She must have compelled her son---” + +“No,” declared the chevalier, “the mother had nothing to do with it.” + +“Nonsense! they occupied the same room. The child could not have done it +without the mother’s knowledge.” + +“True, they lived in the same room, but all this happened in the +adjoining room, during the night, while the mother was asleep.” + +“And the necklace?” said the count. “It would have been found amongst +the child’s things.” + +“Pardon me! He had been out. That morning, on which you found him +reading, he had just come from school, and perhaps the commissary of +police, instead of wasting his time on the innocent mother, would +have been better employed in searching the child’s desk amongst his +school-books.” + +“But how do you explain those two thousand francs that Henriette +received each year? Are they not evidence of her complicity?” + +“If she had been an accomplice, would she have thanked you for that +money? And then, was she not closely watched? But the child, being free, +could easily go to a neighboring city, negotiate with some dealer and +sell him one diamond or two diamonds, as he might wish, upon condition +that the money should be sent from Paris, and that proceeding could be +repeated from year to year.” + +An indescribable anxiety oppressed the Dreux-Soubise and their guests. +There was something in the tone and attitude of Floriani--something more +than the chevalier’s assurance which, from the beginning, had so annoyed +the count. There was a touch of irony, that seemed rather hostile than +sympathetic. But the count affected to laugh, as he said: + +“All that is very ingenious and interesting, and I congratulate you upon +your vivid imagination.” + +“No, not at all,” replied Floriani, with the utmost gravity, “I imagine +nothing. I simply describe the events as they must have occurred.” + +“But what do you know about them?” + +“What you yourself have told me. I picture to myself the life of the +mother and child down there in the country; the illness of the mother, +the schemes of and inventions of the child to sell the precious stones in +order to save his mother’s life, or, at least, soothe her dying moments. +Her illness overcomes her. She dies. Years roll on. The child becomes +a man; and then--and now I will give my imagination a free rein--let +us suppose that the man feels a desire to return to the home of his +childhood, that he does so, and that he meets there certain people who +suspect and accuse his mother.... do you realize the sorrow and anguish +of such an interview in the very house wherein the original drama was +played?” + +His words seemed to echo for a few seconds in the ensuing silence, +and one could read upon the faces of the Count and Countess de Dreux a +bewildered effort to comprehend his meaning and, at the same time, the +fear and anguish of such a comprehension. The count spoke at last, and +said: + +“Who are you, monsieur?” + +“I? The chevalier Floriani, whom you met at Palermo, and whom you have +been gracious enough to invite to your house on several occasions.” + +“Then what does this story mean?” + +“Oh! nothing at all! It is simply a pastime, so far as I am concerned. I +endeavor to depict the pleasure that Henriette’s son, if he still lives, +would have in telling you that he was the guilty party, and that he did +it because his mother was unhappy, as she was on the point of losing +the place of a.... servant, by which she lived, and because the child +suffered at sight of his mother’s sorrow.” + +He spoke with suppressed emotion, rose partially and inclined toward +the countess. There could be no doubt that the chevalier Floriani was +Henriette’s son. His attitude and words proclaimed it. Besides, was it +not his obvious intention and desire to be recognized as such? + +The count hesitated. What action would he take against the audacious +guest? Ring? Provoke a scandal? Unmask the man who had once robbed him? +But that was a long time ago! And who would believe that absurd story +about the guilty child? No; better far to accept the situation, and +pretend not to comprehend the true meaning of it. So the count, turning +to Floriani, exclaimed: + +“Your story is very curious, very entertaining; I enjoyed it much. But +what do you think has become of this young man, this model son? I +hope he has not abandoned the career in which he made such a brilliant +début.” + +“Oh! certainly not.” + +“After such a début! To steal the Queen’s Necklace at six years of age; +the celebrated necklace that was coveted by Marie-Antoinette!” + +“And to steal it,” remarked Floriani, falling in with the count’s mood, +“without costing him the slightest trouble, without anyone thinking to +examine the condition of the window, or to observe that the window-sill +was too clean--that window-sill which he had wiped in order to efface +the marks he had made in the thick dust. We must admit that it was +sufficient to turn the head of a boy at that age. It was all so easy. He +had simply to desire the thing, and reach out his hand to get it.” + +“And he reached out his hand.” + +“Both hands,” replied the chevalier, laughing. + +His companions received a shock. What mystery surrounded the life of +the so-called Floriani? How wonderful must have been the life of that +adventurer, a thief at six years of age, and who, to-day, in search of +excitement or, at most, to gratify a feeling of resentment, had come to +brave his victim in her own house, audaciously, foolishly, and yet with +all the grace and delicacy of a courteous guest! + +He arose and approached the countess to bid her adieu. She recoiled, +unconsciously. He smiled. + +“Oh! Madame, you are afraid of me! Did I pursue my role of +parlor-magician a step too far?” + +She controlled herself, and replied, with her accustomed ease: + +“Not at all, monsieur. The legend of that dutiful son interested me very +much, and I am pleased to know that my necklace had such a brilliant +destiny. But do you not think that the son of that woman, that +Henriette, was the victim of hereditary influence in the choice of his +vocation?” + +He shuddered, feeling the point, and replied: + +“I am sure of it; and, moreover, his natural tendency to crime must have +been very strong or he would have been discouraged.” + +“Why so?” + +“Because, as you must know, the majority of the diamonds were false. The +only genuine stones were the few purchased from the English jeweler, the +others having been sold, one by one, to meet the cruel necessities of +life.” + +“It was still the Queen’s Necklace, monsieur,” replied the countess, +haughtily, “and that is something that he, Henriette’s son, could not +appreciate.” + +“He was able to appreciate, madame, that, whether true or false, +the necklace was nothing more that an object of parade, an emblem of +senseless pride.” + +The count made a threatening gesture, but his wife stopped him. + +“Monsieur,” she said, “if the man to whom you allude has the slightest +sense of honor---” + +She stopped, intimidated by Floriani’s cool manner. + +“If that man has the slightest sense of honor,” he repeated. + +She felt that she would not gain anything by speaking to him in that +manner, and in spite of her anger and indignation, trembling as she was +from humiliated pride, she said to him, almost politely: + +“Monsieur, the legend says that Rétaux de Villette, when in possession +of the Queen’s Necklace, did not disfigure the mounting. He understood +that the diamonds were simply the ornament, the accessory, and that +the mounting was the essential work, the creation of the artist, and +he respected it accordingly. Do you think that this man had the same +feeling?” + +“I have no doubt that the mounting still exists. The child respected +it.” + +“Well, monsieur, if you should happen to meet him, will you tell him +that he unjustly keeps possession of a relic that is the property and +pride of a certain family, and that, although the stones have +been removed, the Queen’s necklace still belongs to the house of +Dreux-Soubise. It belongs to us as much as our name or our honor.” + +The chevalier replied, simply: + +“I shall tell him, madame.” + +He bowed to her, saluted the count and the other guests, and departed. + +* * * * * + +Four days later, the countess de Dreux found upon the table in her +chamber a red leather case bearing the cardinal’s arms. She opened it, +and found the Queen’s Necklace. + +But as all things must, in the life of a man who strives for unity and +logic, converge toward the same goal--and as a little advertising never +does any harm--on the following day, the _Echo de France_ published +these sensational lines: + +“The Queen’s Necklace, the famous historical jewelry stolen from +the family of Dreux-Soubise, has been recovered by Arsène Lupin, who +hastened to restore it to its rightful owner. We cannot too highly +commend such a delicate and chivalrous act.” + + + + +VI. The Seven of Hearts + + +I am frequently asked this question: “How did you make the acquaintance +of Arsène Lupin?” + +My connection with Arsène Lupin was well known. The details that I +gather concerning that mysterious man, the irrefutable facts that I +present, the new evidence that I produce, the interpretation that I +place on certain acts of which the public has seen only the exterior +manifestations without being able to discover the secret reasons or +the invisible mechanism, all establish, if not an intimacy, at least +amicable relations and regular confidences. + +But how did I make his acquaintance? Why was I selected to be his +historiographer? Why I, and not some one else? + +The answer is simple: chance alone presided over my choice; my merit was +not considered. It was chance that put me in his way. It was by chance +that I was participant in one of his strangest and most mysterious +adventures; and by chance that I was an actor in a drama of which he was +the marvelous stage director; an obscure and intricate drama, bristling +with such thrilling events that I feel a certain embarrassment in +undertaking to describe it. + +The first act takes place during that memorable night of 22 June, of +which so much has already been said. And, for my part, I attribute the +anomalous conduct of which I was guilty on that occasion to the unusual +frame of mind in which I found myself on my return home. I had dined +with some friends at the Cascade restaurant, and, the entire evening, +whilst we smoked and the orchestra played melancholy waltzes, we talked +only of crimes and thefts, and dark and frightful intrigues. That is +always a poor overture to a night’s sleep. + +The Saint-Martins went away in an automobile. Jean Daspry--that +delightful, heedless Daspry who, six months later, was killed in such a +tragic manner on the frontier of Morocco--Jean Daspry and I returned +on foot through the dark, warm night. When we arrived in front of +the little house in which I had lived for a year at Neuilly, on the +boulevard Maillot, he said to me: + +“Are you afraid?” + +“What an idea!” + +“But this house is so isolated.... no neighbors.... vacant lots....Really, +I am not a coward, and yet---” + +“Well, you are very cheering, I must say.” + +“Oh! I say that as I would say anything else. The Saint-Martins have +impressed me with their stories of brigands and thieves.” + +We shook hands and said good-night. I took out my key and opened the +door. + +“Well, that is good,” I murmured, “Antoine has forgotten to light a +candle.” + +Then I recalled the fact that Antoine was away; I had given him a +short leave of absence. Forthwith, I was disagreeably oppressed by the +darkness and silence of the night. I ascended the stairs on tiptoe, +and reached my room as quickly as possible; then, contrary to my usual +habit, I turned the key and pushed the bolt. + +The light of my candle restored my courage. Yet I was careful to take my +revolver from its case--a large, powerful weapon--and place it beside +my bed. That precaution completed my reassurance. I laid down and, as +usual, took a book from my night-table to read myself to sleep. Then I +received a great surprise. Instead of the paper-knife with which I had +marked my place on the preceding, I found an envelope, closed with +five seals of red wax. I seized it eagerly. It was addressed to me, and +marked: “Urgent.” + +A letter! A letter addressed to me! Who could have put it in that place? +Nervously, I tore open the envelope, and read: + +“From the moment you open this letter, whatever happens, whatever you +may hear, do not move, do not utter one cry. Otherwise you are doomed.” + +I am not a coward, and, quite as well as another, I can face real +danger, or smile at the visionary perils of imagination. But, let me +repeat, I was in an anomalous condition of mind, with my nerves set on +edge by the events of the evening. Besides, was there not, in my present +situation, something startling and mysterious, calculated to disturb the +most courageous spirit? + +My feverish fingers clutched the sheet of paper, and I read and re-read +those threatening words: “Do not move, do not utter one cry. Otherwise, +you are doomed.” + +“Nonsense!” I thought. “It is a joke; the work of some cheerful idiot.” + +I was about to laugh--a good loud laugh. Who prevented me? What haunting +fear compressed my throat? + +At least, I would blow out the candle. No, I could not do it. “Do not +move, or you are doomed,” were the words he had written. + +These auto-suggestions are frequently more imperious than the most +positive realities; but why should I struggle against them? I had simply +to close my eyes. I did so. + +At that moment, I heard a slight noise, followed by crackling sounds, +proceeding from a large room used by me as a library. A small room or +antechamber was situated between the library and my bedchamber. + +The approach of an actual danger greatly excited me, and I felt a desire +to get up, seize my revolver, and rush into the library. I did not rise; +I saw one of the curtains of the left window move. There was no doubt +about it: the curtain had moved. It was still moving. And I saw--oh! I +saw quite distinctly--in the narrow space between the curtains and the +window, a human form; a bulky mass that prevented the curtains from +hanging straight. And it is equally certain that the man saw me through +the large meshes of the curtain. Then, I understood the situation. +His mission was to guard me while the others carried away their booty. +Should I rise and seize my revolver? Impossible! He was there! At the +least movement, at the least cry, I was doomed. + +Then came a terrific noise that shook the house; this was followed +by lighter sounds, two or three together, like those of a hammer that +rebounded. At least, that was the impression formed in my confused +brain. These were mingled with other sounds, thus creating a veritable +uproar which proved that the intruders were not only bold, but felt +themselves secure from interruption. + +They were right. I did not move. Was it cowardice? No, rather weakness, +a total inability to move any portion of my body, combined with +discretion; for why should I struggle? Behind that man, there were ten +others who would come to his assistance. Should I risk my life to save a +few tapestries and bibelots? + +Throughout the night, my torture endured. Insufferable torture, terrible +anguish! The noises had stopped, but I was in constant fear of their +renewal. And the man! The man who was guarding me, weapon in hand. My +fearful eyes remained cast in his direction. And my heart beat! And a +profuse perspiration oozed from every pore of my body! + +Suddenly, I experienced an immense relief; a milk-wagon, whose sound was +familiar to me, passed along the boulevard; and, at the same time, I had +an impression that the light of a new day was trying to steal through +the closed window-blinds. + +At last, daylight penetrated the room; other vehicles passed along the +boulevard; and all the phantoms of the night vanished. Then I put one +arm out of the bed, slowly and cautiously. My eyes were fixed upon the +curtain, locating the exact spot at which I must fire; I made an exact +calculation of the movements I must make; then, quickly, I seized my +revolver and fired. + +I leaped from my bed with a cry of deliverance, and rushed to the +window. The bullet had passed through the curtain and the window-glass, +but it had not touched the man--for the very good reason that there was +none there. Nobody! Thus, during the entire night, I had been +hypnotized by a fold of the curtain. And, during that time, the +malefactors....Furiously, with an enthusiasm that nothing could have +stopped, I turned the key, opened the door, crossed the antechamber, +opened another door, and rushed into the library. But amazement stopped +me on the threshold, panting, astounded, more astonished than I had +been by the absence of the man. All the things that I supposed had been +stolen, furniture, books, pictures, old tapestries, everything was in +its proper place. + +It was incredible. I could not believe my eyes. Notwithstanding that +uproar, those noises of removal....I made a tour, I inspected the walls, +I made a mental inventory of all the familiar objects. Nothing was +missing. And, what was more disconcerting, there was no clue to the +intruders, not a sign, not a chair disturbed, not the trace of a +footstep. + +“Well! Well!” I said to myself, pressing my hands on my bewildered head, +“surely I am not crazy! I heard something!” + +Inch by inch, I made a careful examination of the room. It was in vain. +Unless I could consider this as a discovery: Under a small Persian rug, +I found a card--an ordinary playing card. It was the seven of hearts; +it was like any other seven of hearts in French playing-cards, with this +slight but curious exception: The extreme point of each of the seven red +spots or hearts was pierced by a hole, round and regular as if made with +the point of an awl. + +Nothing more. A card and a letter found in a book. But was not that +sufficient to affirm that I had not been the plaything of a dream? + +* * * * * + +Throughout the day, I continued my searches in the library. It was a +large room, much too large for the requirements of such a house, and the +decoration of which attested the bizarre taste of its founder. The +floor was a mosaic of multicolored stones, formed into large symmetrical +designs. The walls were covered with a similar mosaic, arranged in +panels, Pompeiian allegories, Byzantine compositions, frescoes of the +Middle Ages. A Bacchus bestriding a cask. An emperor wearing a gold +crown, a flowing beard, and holding a sword in his right hand. + +Quite high, after the style of an artist’s studio, there was a large +window--the only one in the room. That window being always open at +night, it was probable that the men had entered through it, by the aid +of a ladder. But, again, there was no evidence. The bottom of the ladder +would have left some marks in the soft earth beneath the window; but +there were none. Nor were there any traces of footsteps in any part of +the yard. + +I had no idea of informing the police, because the facts I had before me +were so absurd and inconsistent. They would laugh at me. However, as I +was then a reporter on the staff of the ‘Gil Blas,’ I wrote a lengthy +account of my adventure and it was published in the paper on the second +day thereafter. The article attracted some attention, but no one took it +seriously. They regarded it as a work of fiction rather than a story +of real life. The Saint-Martins rallied me. But Daspry, who took an +interest in such matters, came to see me, made a study of the affair, +but reached no conclusion. + +A few mornings later, the door-bell rang, and Antoine came to inform +me that a gentleman desired to see me. He would not give his name. I +directed Antoine to show him up. He was a man of about forty years of +age with a very dark complexion, lively features, and whose correct +dress, slightly frayed, proclaimed a taste that contrasted strangely +with his rather vulgar manners. Without any preamble, he said to me--in +a rough voice that confirmed my suspicion as to his social position: + +“Monsieur, whilst in a café, I picked up a copy of the ‘Gil Blas,’ and +read your article. It interested me very much. + +“Thank you.” + +“And here I am.” + +“Ah!” + +“Yes, to talk to you. Are all the facts related by you quite correct?” + +“Absolutely so.” + +“Well, in that case, I can, perhaps, give you some information.” + +“Very well; proceed.” + +“No, not yet. First, I must be sure that the facts are exactly as you +have related them.” + +“I have given you my word. What further proof do you want?” + +“I must remain alone in this room.” + +“I do not understand,” I said, with surprise. + +“It’s an idea that occurred to me when reading your article. Certain +details established an extraordinary coincidence with another case that +came under my notice. If I am mistaken, I shall say nothing more. And +the only means of ascertaining the truth is by my remaining in the room +alone.” + +What was at the bottom of this proposition? Later, I recalled that the +man was exceedingly nervous; but, at the same time, although somewhat +astonished, I found nothing particularly abnormal about the man or the +request he had made. Moreover, my curiosity was aroused; so I replied: + +“Very well. How much time do you require?” + +“Oh! three minutes--not longer. Three minutes from now, I will rejoin +you.” + +I left the room, and went downstairs. I took out my watch. One minute +passed. Two minutes. Why did I feel so depressed? Why did those moments +seem so solemn and weird? Two minutes and a half....Two minutes and +three quarters. Then I heard a pistol shot. + +I bounded up the stairs and entered the room. A cry of horror escaped +me. In the middle of the room, the man was lying on his left side, +motionless. Blood was flowing from a wound in his forehead. Near his +hand was a revolver, still smoking. + +But, in addition to this frightful spectacle, my attention was attracted +by another object. At two feet from the body, upon the floor, I saw +a playing-card. It was the seven of hearts. I picked it up. The lower +extremity of each of the seven spots was pierced with a small round +hole. + +* * * * * + +A half-hour later, the commissary of police arrived, then the coroner +and the chief of the Sûreté, Mon. Dudouis. I had been careful not to +touch the corpse. The preliminary inquiry was very brief, and disclosed +nothing. There were no papers in the pockets of the deceased; no name +upon his clothes; no initial upon his linen; nothing to give any clue +to his identity. The room was in the same perfect order as before. The +furniture had not been disturbed. Yet this man had not come to my house +solely for the purpose of killing himself, or because he considered my +place the most convenient one for his suicide! There must have been a +motive for his act of despair, and that motive was, no doubt, the result +of some new fact ascertained by him during the three minutes he was +alone. + +What was that fact? What had he seen? What frightful secret had been +revealed to him? There was no answer to these questions. But, at the +last moment, an incident occurred that appeared to us of considerable +importance. As two policemen were raising the body to place it on a +stretcher, the left hand thus being disturbed, a crumpled card fell from +it. The card bore these words: “Georges Andermatt, 37 Rue de Berry.” + +What did that mean? Georges Andermatt was a rich banker in Paris, the +founder and president of the Metal Exchange which had given such an +impulse to the metallic industries in France. He lived in princely +style; was the possessor of numerous automobiles, coaches, and an +expensive racing-stable. His social affairs were very select, and Madame +Andermatt was noted for her grace and beauty. + +“Can that be the man’s name?” I asked.--------------- + +The chief of the Sûreté leaned over him. + +“It is not he. Mon. Andermatt is a thin man, and slightly grey.” + +“But why this card?” + +“Have you a telephone, monsieur?” + +“Yes, in the vestibule. Come with me.” + +He looked in the directory, and then asked for number 415.21. + +“Is Mon. Andermatt at home?....Please tell him that Mon. Dudouis wished +him to come at once to 102 Boulevard Maillot. Very important.” + +Twenty minutes later, Mon. Andermatt arrived in his automobile. After +the circumstances had been explained to him, he was taken in to see the +corpse. He displayed considerable emotion, and spoke, in a low tone, and +apparently unwillingly: + +“Etienne Varin,” he said. + +“You know him?” + +“No.... or, at least, yes.... by sight only. His brother....” + +“Ah! he has a brother?” + +“Yes, Alfred Varin. He came to see me once on some matter of +business....I forget what it was.” + +“Where does he live?” + +“The two brothers live together--rue de Provence, I think.” + +“Do you know any reason why he should commit suicide?” + +“None.” + +“He held a card in his hand. It was your card with your address.” + +“I do not understand that. It must have been there by some chance that +will be disclosed by the investigation.” + +A very strange chance, I thought; and I felt that the others entertained +the same impression. + +I discovered the same impression in the papers next day, and amongst +all my friends with whom I discussed the affair. Amid the mysteries that +enveloped it, after the double discovery of the seven of hearts pierced +with seven holes, after the two inscrutable events that had happened in +my house, that visiting card promised to throw some light on the +affair. Through it, the truth may be revealed. But, contrary to our +expectations, Mon. Andermatt furnished no explanation. He said: + +“I have told you all I know. What more can I do? I am greatly surprised +that my card should be found in such a place, and I sincerely hope the +point will be cleared up.” + +It was not. The official investigation established that the Varin +brothers were of Swiss origin, had led a shifting life under various +names, frequenting gambling resorts, associating with a band of +foreigners who had been dispersed by the police after a series of +robberies in which their participation was established only by their +flight. At number 24 rue de Provence, where the Varin brothers had lived +six years before, no one knew what had become of them. + +I confess that, for my part, the case seemed to me so complicated and so +mysterious that I did not think the problem would ever be solved, so +I concluded to waste no more time upon it. But Jean Daspry, whom I +frequently met at that period, became more and more interested in it +each day. It was he who pointed out to me that item from a foreign +newspaper which was reproduced and commented upon by the entire press. +It was as follows: + +“The first trial of a new model of submarine boat, which is expected +to revolutionize naval warfare, will be given in presence of the former +Emperor at a place that will be kept secret until the last minute. An +indiscretion has revealed its name; it is called ‘The Seven-of-Hearts.’” + +The Seven-of-Hearts! That presented a new problem. Could a connection be +established between the name of the sub-marine and the incidents which +we have related? But a connection of what nature? What had happened here +could have no possible relation with the sub-marine. + +“What do you know about it?” said Daspry to me. “The most diverse +effects often proceed from the same cause.” + +Two days later, the following foreign news item was received and +published: + +“It is said that the plans of the new sub-marine ‘Seven-of-Hearts’ were +prepared by French engineers, who, having sought, in vain, the support +of their compatriots, subsequently entered into negotiations with the +British Admiralty, without success.” + +I do not wish to give undue publicity to certain delicate matters which +once provoked considerable excitement. Yet, since all danger of injury +therefrom has now come to an end, I must speak of the article that +appeared in the _Echo de France_, which aroused so much comment at +that time, and which threw considerable light upon the mystery of +the Seven-of-Hearts. This is the article as it was published over the +signature of Salvator: + + “THE AFFAIR OF THE SEVEN-OF-HEARTS. + + “A CORNER OF THE VEIL RAISED. + + “We will be brief. Ten years ago, a young mining engineer, Louis + Lacombe, wishing to devote his time and fortune to certain studies, + resigned his position he then held, and rented number 102 boulevard + Maillot, a small house that had been recently built and decorated + for an Italian count. Through the agency of the Varin brothers of + Lausanne, one of whom assisted in the preliminary experiments and + the other acted as financial agent, the young engineer was + introduced to Georges Andermatt, the founder of the Metal Exchange. + + “After several interviews, he succeeded in interesting the banker + in a sub-marine boat on which he was working, and it was agreed + that as soon as the invention was perfected, Mon. Andermatt would + use his influence with the Minister of Marine to obtain a series of + trials under the direction of the government. For two years, Louis + Lacombe was a frequent visitor at Andermatt’s house, and he + submitted to the banker the various improvements he made upon his + original plans, until one day, being satisfied with the perfection + of his work, he asked Mon. Andermatt to communicate with the + Minister of Marine. That day, Louis Lacombe dined at Mon. + Andermatt’s house. He left there about half-past eleven at night. + He has not been seen since. + + “A perusal of the newspapers of that date will show that the + young man’s family caused every possible inquiry to be made, but + without success; and it was the general opinion that Louis Lacombe-- + who was known as an original and visionary youth--had quietly left + for parts unknown. + + “Let us accept that theory--improbable, though it be,--and let us + consider another question, which is a most important one for our + country: What has become of the plans of the sub-marine? Did Louis + Lacombe carry them away? Are they destroyed? + + “After making a thorough investigation, we are able to assert, + positively, that the plans are in existence, and are now in the + possession of the two brothers Varin. How did they acquire such a + possession? That is a question not yet determined; nor do we know + why they have not tried to sell them at an earlier date. Did they + fear that their title to them would be called in question? If so, + they have lost that fear, and we can announce definitely, that the + plans of Louis Lacombe are now the property of foreign power, and + we are in a position to publish the correspondence that passed + between the Varin brothers and the representative of that power. + The ‘Seven-of-Hearts’ invented by Louis Lacombe has been actually + constructed by our neighbor. + + “Will the invention fulfill the optimistic expectations of those + who were concerned in that treacherous act?” + +And a post-script adds: + + “Later.--Our special correspondent informs us that the preliminary + trial of the ‘Seven-of-Hearts’ has not been satisfactory. It is + quite likely that the plans sold and delivered by the Varin + brothers did not include the final document carried by Louis + Lacombe to Mon. Andermatt on the day of his disappearance, a + document that was indispensable to a thorough understanding of the + invention. It contained a summary of the final conclusions of the + inventor, and estimates and figures not contained in the other + papers. Without this document, the plans are incomplete; on the + other hand, without the plans, the document is worthless. + + “Now is the time to act and recover what belongs to us. It may + be a difficult matter, but we rely upon the assistance of Mon. + Andermatt. It will be to his interest to explain his conduct which + has hitherto been so strange and inscrutable. He will explain not + only why he concealed these facts at the time of the suicide of + Etienne Varin, but also why he has never revealed the disappearance + of the paper--a fact well known to him. He will tell why, during + the last six years, he paid spies to watch the movements of the + Varin brothers. We expect from him, not only words, but acts. And + at once. Otherwise---” + +The threat was plainly expressed. But of what did it consist? What whip +was Salvator, the anonymous writer of the article, holding over the head +of Mon. Andermatt? + +An army of reporters attacked the banker, and ten interviewers announced +the scornful manner in which they were treated. Thereupon, the _Echo de +France_ announced its position in these words: + +“Whether Mon. Andermatt is willing or not, he will be, henceforth, our +collaborator in the work we have undertaken.” + +* * * * * + +Daspry and I were dining together on the day on which that announcement +appeared. That evening, with the newspapers spread over my table, we +discussed the affair and examined it from every point of view with that +exasperation that a person feels when walking in the dark and finding +himself constantly falling over the same obstacles. Suddenly, without +any warning whatsoever, the door opened and a lady entered. Her face was +hidden behind a thick veil. I rose at once and approached her. + +“Is it you, monsieur, who lives here?” she asked. + +“Yes, madame, but I do not understand---” + +“The gate was not locked,” she explained. + +“But the vestibule door?” + +She did not reply, and it occurred to me that she had used the servants’ +entrance. How did she know the way? Then there was a silence that was +quite embarrassing. She looked at Daspry, and I was obliged to introduce +him. I asked her to be seated and explain the object of her visit. She +raised her veil, and I saw that she was a brunette with regular features +and, though not handsome, she was attractive--principally, on account of +her sad, dark eyes. + +“I am Madame Andermatt,” she said. + +“Madame Andermatt!” I repeated, with astonishment. + +After a brief pause, she continued with a voice and manner that were +quite easy and natural: + +“I have come to see you about that affair--you know. I thought I might +be able to obtain some information---” + +“Mon Dieu, madame, I know nothing but what has already appeared in the +papers. But if you will point out in what way I can help you....” + +“I do not know....I do not know.” + +Not until then did I suspect that her calm demeanor was assumed, and +that some poignant grief was concealed beneath that air of tranquility. +For a moment, we were silent and embarrassed. Then Daspry stepped +forward, and said: + +“Will you permit me to ask you a few questions?” + +“Yes, yes,” she cried. “I will answer.” + +“You will answer.... whatever those questions may be?” + +“Yes.” + +“Did you know Louis Lacombe?” he asked. + +“Yes, through my husband.” + +“When did you see him for the last time?” + +“The evening he dined with us.” + +“At that time, was there anything to lead you to believe that you would +never see him again?” + +“No. But he had spoken of a trip to Russia--in a vague way.” + +“Then you expected to see him again?” + +“Yes. He was to dine with us, two days later.” + +“How do you explain his disappearance?” + +“I cannot explain it.” + +“And Mon. Andermatt?” + +“I do not know.” + +“Yet the article published in the _Echo de France_ indicates---” + +“Yes, that the Varin brothers had something to do with his +disappearance.” + +“Is that your opinion?” + +“Yes.” + +“On what do you base your opinion?” + +“When he left our house, Louis Lacombe carried a satchel containing all +the papers relating to his invention. Two days later, my husband, in +a conversation with one of the Varin brothers, learned that the papers +were in their possession.” + +“And he did not denounce them?” + +“No.” + +“Why not?” + +“Because there was something else in the satchel--something besides the +papers of Louis Lacombe.” + +“What was it?” + +She hesitated; was on the point of speaking, but, finally, remained +silent. Daspry continued: + +“I presume that is why your husband has kept a close watch over their +movements instead of informing the police. He hoped to recover the +papers and, at the same time, that compromising article which has +enabled the two brothers to hold over him threats of exposure and +blackmail.” + +“Over him, and over me.” + +“Ah! over you, also?” + +“Over me, in particular.” + +She uttered the last words in a hollow voice. Daspry observed it; he +paced to and fro for a moment, then, turning to her, asked: + +“Had you written to Louis Lacombe?” + +“Of course. My husband had business with him--” + +“Apart from those business letters, had you written to Louis +Lacombe.... other letters? Excuse my insistence, but it is absolutely +necessary that I should know the truth. Did you write other letters?” + +“Yes,” she replied, blushing. + +“And those letters came into the possession of the Varin brothers?” + +“Yes.” + +“Does Mon. Andermatt know it?” + +“He has not seen them, but Alfred Varin has told him of their existence +and threatened to publish them if my husband should take any steps +against him. My husband was afraid.... of a scandal.” + +“But he has tried to recover the letters?” + +“I think so; but I do not know. You see, after that last interview with +Alfred Varin, and after some harsh words between me and my husband in +which he called me to account--we live as strangers.” + +“In that case, as you have nothing to lose, what do you fear?” + +“I may be indifferent to him now, but I am the woman that he has loved, +the one he would still love--oh! I am quite sure of that,” she murmured, +in a fervent voice, “he would still love me if he had not got hold of +those cursed letters----” + +“What! Did he succeed?....But the two brothers still defied him?” + +“Yes, and they boasted of having a secure hiding-place.” + +“Well?” + +“I believe my husband discovered that hiding-place.” + +“Ah! where was it?” + +“Here.” + +“Here!” I cried in alarm. + +“Yes. I always had that suspicion. Louis Lacombe was very ingenious +and amused himself in his leisure hours, by making safes and locks. No +doubt, the Varin brothers were aware of that fact and utilized one of +Lacombe’s safes in which to conceal the letters.... and other things, +perhaps.” + +“But they did not live here,” I said. + +“Before you came, four months ago, the house had been vacant for some +time. And they may have thought that your presence here would not +interfere with them when they wanted to get the papers. But they did not +count on my husband, who came here on the night of 22 June, forced the +safe, took what he was seeking, and left his card to inform the two +brothers that he feared them no more, and that their positions were now +reversed. Two days later, after reading the article in the ‘Gil Blas,’ +Etienne Varin came here, remained alone in this room, found the safe +empty, and.... killed himself.” + +After a moment, Daspry said: + +“A very simple theory....Has Mon. Andermatt spoken to you since then?” + +“No.” + +“Has his attitude toward you changed in any way? Does he appear more +gloomy, more anxious?” + +“No, I haven’t noticed any change.” + +“And yet you think he has secured the letters. Now, in my opinion, he +has not got those letters, and it was not he who came here on the night +of 22 June.” + +“Who was it, then?” + +“The mysterious individual who is managing this affair, who holds all +the threads in his hands, and whose invisible but far-reaching power we +have felt from the beginning. It was he and his friends who entered +this house on 22 June; it was he who discovered the hiding-place of the +papers; it was he who left Mon. Andermatt’s card; it is he who now +holds the correspondence and the evidence of the treachery of the Varin +brothers.” + +“Who is he?” I asked, impatiently. + +“The man who writes letters to the _Echo de France_.... Salvator! Have +we not convincing evidence of that fact? Does he not mention in his +letters certain details that no one could know, except the man who had +thus discovered the secrets of the two brothers?” + +“Well, then,” stammered Madame Andermatt, in great alarm, “he has my +letters also, and it is he who now threatens my husband. Mon Dieu! What +am I to do?” + +“Write to him,” declared Daspry. “Confide in him without reserve. Tell +him all you know and all you may hereafter learn. Your interest and his +interest are the same. He is not working against Mon. Andermatt, but +against Alfred Varin. Help him.” + +“How?” + +“Has your husband the document that completes the plans of Louis +Lacombe?” + +“Yes.” + +“Tell that to Salvator, and, if possible, procure the document for him. +Write to him at once. You risk nothing.” + +The advice was bold, dangerous even at first sight, but Madame Andermatt +had no choice. Besides, as Daspry had said, she ran no risk. If +the unknown writer were an enemy, that step would not aggravate the +situation. If he were a stranger seeking to accomplish a particular +purpose, he would attach to those letters only a secondary importance. +Whatever might happen, it was the only solution offered to her, and +she, in her anxiety, was only too glad to act on it. She thanked us +effusively, and promised to keep us informed. + +In fact, two days later, she sent us the following letter that she had +received from Salvator: + +“Have not found the letters, but I will get them. Rest easy. I am +watching everything. S.” + +I looked at the letter. It was in the same handwriting as the note I +found in my book on the night of 22 June. + +Daspry was right. Salvator was, indeed, the originator of that affair. + +* * * * * + +We were beginning to see a little light coming out of the darkness that +surrounded us, and an unexpected light was thrown on certain points; but +other points yet remained obscure--for instance, the finding of the two +seven-of-hearts. Perhaps I was unnecessarily concerned about those +two cards whose seven punctured spots had appeared to me under such +startling circumstances! Yet I could not refrain from asking myself: +What role will they play in the drama? What importance do they +bear? What conclusion must be drawn from the fact that the submarine +constructed from the plans of Louis Lacombe bore the name of +‘Seven-of-Hearts’? + +Daspry gave little thought to the other two cards; he devoted all his +attention to another problem which he considered more urgent; he was +seeking the famous hiding-place. + +“And who knows,” said he, “I may find the letters that Salvator did not +find--by inadvertence, perhaps. It is improbable that the Varin brothers +would have removed from a spot, which they deemed inaccessible, the +weapon which was so valuable to them.” + +And he continued to search. In a short time, the large room held no more +secrets for him, so he extended his investigations to the other rooms. +He examined the interior and the exterior, the stones of the foundation, +the bricks in the walls; he raised the slates of the roof. + +One day, he came with a pickaxe and a spade, gave me the spade, kept the +pickaxe, pointed to the adjacent vacant lots, and said: “Come.” + +I followed him, but I lacked his enthusiasm. He divided the vacant land +into several sections which he examined in turn. At last, in a corner, +at the angle formed by the walls of two neighboring proprietors, a small +pile of earth and gravel, covered with briers and grass, attracted his +attention. He attacked it. I was obliged to help him. For an hour, under +a hot sun, we labored without success. I was discouraged, but Daspry +urged me on. His ardor was as strong as ever. + +At last, Daspry’s pickaxe unearthed some bones--the remains of a +skeleton to which some scraps of clothing still hung. Suddenly, I turned +pale. I had discovered, sticking in the earth, a small piece of iron cut +in the form of a rectangle, on which I thought I could see red spots. I +stooped and picked it up. That little iron plate was the exact size of a +playing-card, and the red spots, made with red lead, were arranged upon +it in a manner similar to the seven-of-hearts, and each spot was pierced +with a round hole similar to the perforations in the two playing cards. + +“Listen, Daspry, I have had enough of this. You can stay if it interests +you. But I am going.” + +Was that simply the expression of my excited nerves? Or was it the +result of a laborious task executed under a burning sun? I know that +I trembled as I walked away, and that I went to bed, where I remained +forty-eight hours, restless and feverish, haunted by skeletons that +danced around me and threw their bleeding hearts at my head. + +Daspry was faithful to me. He came to my house every day, and remained +three or four hours, which he spent in the large room, ferreting, +thumping, tapping. + +“The letters are here, in this room,” he said, from time to time, “they +are here. I will stake my life on it.” + +On the morning of the third day I arose--feeble yet, but cured. A +substantial breakfast cheered me up. But a letter that I received that +afternoon contributed, more than anything else, to my complete recovery, +and aroused in me a lively curiosity. This was the letter: + + “Monsieur, + + “The drama, the first act of which transpired on the night of 22 + June, is now drawing to a close. Force of circumstances compel me + to bring the two principal actors in that drama face to face, and I + wish that meeting to take place in your house, if you will be so + kind as to give me the use of it for this evening from nine o’clock + to eleven. It will be advisable to give your servant leave of + absence for the evening, and, perhaps, you will be so kind as to + leave the field open to the two adversaries. You will remember + that when I visited your house on the night of 22 June, I took + excellent care of your property. I feel that I would do you an + injustice if I should doubt, for one moment, your absolute + discretion in this affair. Your devoted, + + “SALVATOR.” + +I was amused at the facetious tone of his letter and also at the +whimsical nature of his request. There was a charming display of +confidence and candor in his language, and nothing in the world could +have induced me to deceive him or repay his confidence with ingratitude. + +I gave my servant a theatre ticket, and he left the house at eight +o’clock. A few minutes later, Daspry arrived. I showed him the letter. + +“Well?” said he. + +“Well, I have left the garden gate unlocked, so anyone can enter.” + +“And you--are you going away?” + +“Not at all. I intend to stay right here.” + +“But he asks you to go---” + +“But I am not going. I will be discreet, but I am resolved to see what +takes place.” + +“Ma foi!” exclaimed Daspry, laughing, “you are right, and I shall stay +with you. I shouldn’t like to miss it.” + +We were interrupted by the sound of the door-bell. + +“Here already?” said Daspry, “twenty minutes ahead of time! Incredible!” + +I went to the door and ushered in the visitor. It was Madame Andermatt. +She was faint and nervous, and in a stammering voice, she ejaculated: + +“My husband.... is coming.... he has an appointment.... they intend to +give him the letters....” + +“How do you know?” I asked. + +“By chance. A message came for my husband while we were at dinner. The +servant gave it to me by mistake. My husband grabbed it quickly, but he +was too late. I had read it.” + +“You read it?” + +“Yes. It was something like this: ‘At nine o’clock this evening, be +at Boulevard Maillot with the papers connected with the affair. In +exchange, the letters.’ So, after dinner, I hastened here.” + +“Unknown to your husband?” + +“Yes.” + +“What do you think about it?” asked Daspry, turning to me. + +“I think as you do, that Mon. Andermatt is one of the invited guests.” + +“Yes, but for what purpose?” + +“That is what we are going to find out.” + +I led them to a large room. The three of us could hide comfortably +behind the velvet chimney-mantle, and observe all that should happen +in the room. We seated ourselves there, with Madame Andermatt in the +centre. + +The clock struck nine. A few minutes later, the garden gate creaked upon +its hinges. I confess that I was greatly agitated. I was about to learn +the key to the mystery. The startling events of the last few weeks were +about to be explained, and, under my eyes, the last battle was going to +be fought. Daspry seized the hand of Madame Andermatt, and said to her: + +“Not a word, not a movement! Whatever you may see or hear, keep quiet!” + +Some one entered. It was Alfred Varin. I recognized him at once, owing +to the close resemblance he bore to his brother Etienne. There was +the same slouching gait; the same cadaverous face covered with a black +beard. + +He entered with the nervous air of a man who is accustomed to fear the +presence of traps and ambushes; who scents and avoids them. He glanced +about the room, and I had the impression that the chimney, masked with +a velvet portière, did not please him. He took three steps in our +direction, when something caused him to turn and walk toward the old +mosaic king, with the flowing beard and flamboyant sword, which he +examined minutely, mounting on a chair and following with his fingers +the outlines of the shoulders and head and feeling certain parts of the +face. Suddenly, he leaped from the chair and walked away from it. He had +heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Mon. Andermatt appeared at the +door. + +“You! You!” exclaimed the banker. “Was it you who brought me here?” + +“I? By no means,” protested Varin, in a rough, jerky voice that reminded +me of his brother, “on the contrary, it was your letter that brought me +here.” + +“My letter?” + +“A letter signed by you, in which you offered---” + +“I never wrote to you,” declared Mon. Andermatt. + +“You did not write to me!” + +Instinctively, Varin was put on his guard, not against the banker, but +against the unknown enemy who had drawn him into this trap. A second +time, he looked in our direction, then walked toward the door. But Mon. +Andermatt barred his passage. + +“Well, where are you going, Varin?” + +“There is something about this affair I don’t like. I am going home. +Good evening.” + +“One moment!” + +“No need of that, Mon. Andermatt. I have nothing to say to you.” + +“But I have something to say to you, and this is a good time to say it.” + +“Let me pass.” + +“No, you will not pass.” + +Varin recoiled before the resolute attitude of the banker, as he +muttered: + +“Well, then, be quick about it.” + +One thing astonished me; and I have no doubt my two companions +experienced a similar feeling. Why was Salvator not there? Was he not a +necessary party at this conference? Or was he satisfied to let these two +adversaries fight it out between themselves? At all events, his absence +was a great disappointment, although it did not detract from the +dramatic strength of the situation. + +After a moment, Mon. Andermatt approached Varin and, face to face, eye +to eye, said: + +“Now, after all these years and when you have nothing more to fear, you +can answer me candidly: What have you done with Louis Lacombe?” + +“What a question! As if I knew anything about him!” + +“You do know! You and your brother were his constant companions, almost +lived with him in this very house. You knew all about his plans and his +work. And the last night I ever saw Louis Lacombe, when I parted with +him at my door, I saw two men slinking away in the shadows of the trees. +That, I am ready to swear to.” + +“Well, what has that to do with me?” + +“The two men were you and your brother.” + +“Prove it.” + +“The best proof is that, two days later, you yourself showed me the +papers and the plans that belonged to Lacombe and offered to sell them. +How did these papers come into your possession?” + +“I have already told you, Mon. Andermatt, that we found them on Louis +Lacombe’s table, the morning after his disappearance.” + +“That is a lie!” + +“Prove it.” + +“The law will prove it.” + +“Why did you not appeal to the law?” + +“Why? Ah! Why---,” stammered the banker, with a slight display of +emotion. + +“You know very well, Mon. Andermatt, if you had the least certainty of +our guilt, our little threat would not have stopped you.” + +“What threat? Those letters? Do you suppose I ever gave those letters a +moment’s thought?” + +“If you did not care for the letters, why did you offer me thousands of +francs for their return? And why did you have my brother and me tracked +like wild beasts?” + +“To recover the plans.” + +“Nonsense! You wanted the letters. You knew that as soon as you had the +letters in your possession, you could denounce us. Oh! no, I couldn’t +part with them!” + +He laughed heartily, but stopped suddenly, and said: + +“But, enough of this! We are merely going over old ground. We make no +headway. We had better let things stand as they are.” + +“We will not let them stand as they are,” said the banker, “and since +you have referred to the letters, let me tell you that you will not +leave this house until you deliver up those letters.” + +“I shall go when I please.” + +“You will not.” + +“Be careful, Mon. Andermatt. I warn you---” + +“I say, you shall not go.” + +“We will see about that,” cried Varin, in such a rage that Madame +Andermatt could not suppress a cry of fear. Varin must have heard it, +for he now tried to force his way out. Mon. Andermatt pushed him back. +Then I saw him put his hand into his coat pocket. + +“For the last time, let me pass,” he cried. + +“The letters, first!” + +Varin drew a revolver and, pointing it at Mon. Andermatt, said: + +“Yes or no?” + +The banker stooped quickly. There was the sound of a pistol-shot. The +weapon fell from Varin’s hand. I was amazed. The shot was fired close +to me. It was Daspry who had fired it at Varin, causing him to drop the +revolver. In a moment, Daspry was standing between the two men, facing +Varin; he said to him, with a sneer: + +“You were lucky, my friend, very lucky. I fired at your hand and struck +only the revolver.” + +Both of them looked at him, surprised. Then he turned to the banker, and +said: + +“I beg your pardon, monsieur, for meddling in your business; but, +really, you play a very poor game. Let me hold the cards.” + +Turning again to Varin, Daspry said: + +“It’s between us two, comrade, and play fair, if you please. Hearts are +trumps, and I play the seven.” + +Then Daspry held up, before Varin’s bewildered eyes, the little iron +plate, marked with the seven red spots. It was a terrible shock to +Varin. With livid features, staring eyes, and an air of intense agony, +the man seemed to be hypnotized at the sight of it. + +“Who are you?” he gasped. + +“One who meddles in other people’s business, down to the very bottom.” + +“What do you want?” + +“What you brought here tonight.” + +“I brought nothing.” + +“Yes, you did, or you wouldn’t have come. This morning, you received +an invitation to come here at nine o’clock, and bring with you all the +papers held by you. You are here. Where are the papers?” + +There was in Daspry’s voice and manner a tone of authority that I did +not understand; his manner was usually quite mild and conciliatory. +Absolutely conquered, Varin placed his hand on one of his pockets, and +said: + +“The papers are here.” + +“All of them?” + +“Yes.” + +“All that you took from Louis Lacombe and afterwards sold to Major von +Lieben?” + +“Yes.” + +“Are these the copies or the originals?” + +“I have the originals.” + +“How much do you want for them?” + +“One hundred thousand francs.” + +“You are crazy,” said Daspry. “Why, the major gave you only twenty +thousand, and that was like money thrown into the sea, as the boat was a +failure at the preliminary trials.” + +“They didn’t understand the plans.” + +“The plans are not complete.” + +“Then, why do you ask me for them?” + +“Because I want them. I offer you five thousand francs--not a sou more.” + +“Ten thousand. Not a sou less.” + +“Agreed,” said Daspry, who now turned to Mon. Andermatt, and said: + +“Monsieur will kindly sign a check for the amount.” + +“But....I haven’t got---” + +“Your check-book? Here it is.” + +Astounded, Mon. Andermatt examined the check-book that Daspry handed to +him. + +“It is mine,” he gasped. “How does that happen?” + +“No idle words, monsieur, if you please. You have merely to sign.” + +The banker took out his fountain pen, filled out the check and signed +it. Varin held out his hand for it. + +“Put down your hand,” said Daspry, “there is something more.” Then, to +the banker, he said: “You asked for some letters, did you not?” + +“Yes, a package of letters.” + +“Where are they, Varin?” + +“I haven’t got them.” + +“Where are they, Varin?” + +“I don’t know. My brother had charge of them.” + +“They are hidden in this room.” + +“In that case, you know where they are.” + +“How should I know?” + +“Was it not you who found the hiding-place? You appear to be as well +informed.... as Salvator.” + +“The letters are not in the hiding-place.” + +“They are.” + +“Open it.” + +Varin looked at him, defiantly. Were not Daspry and Salvator the same +person? Everything pointed to that conclusion. If so, Varin risked +nothing in disclosing a hiding-place already known. + +“Open it,” repeated Daspry. + +“I have not got the seven of hearts.” + +“Yes, here it is,” said Daspry, handing him the iron plate. Varin +recoiled in terror, and cried: + +“No, no, I will not.” + +“Never mind,” replied Daspry, as he walked toward the bearded king, +climbed on a chair and applied the seven of hearts to the lower part of +the sword in such a manner that the edges of the iron plate coincided +exactly with the two edges of the sword. Then, with the assistance of +an awl which he introduced alternately into each of the seven holes, he +pressed upon seven of the little mosaic stones. As he pressed upon the +seventh one, a clicking sound was heard, and the entire bust of the King +turned upon a pivot, disclosing a large opening lined with steel. It was +really a fire-proof safe. + +“You can see, Varin, the safe is empty.” + +“So I see. Then, my brother has taken out the letters.” + +Daspry stepped down from the chair, approached Varin, and said: + +“Now, no more nonsense with me. There is another hiding-place. Where is +it?” + +“There is none.” + +“Is it money you want? How much?” + +“Ten thousand.” + +“Monsieur Andermatt, are those letters worth ten thousand francs to +you?” + +“Yes,” said the banker, firmly. + +Varin closed the safe, took the seven of hearts and placed it again on +the sword at the same spot. He thrust the awl into each of the seven +holes. There was the same clicking sound, but this time, strange to +relate, it was only a portion of the safe that revolved on the pivot, +disclosing quite a small safe that was built within the door of the +larger one. The packet of letters was here, tied with a tape, and +sealed. Varin handed the packet to Daspry. The latter turned to the +banker, and asked: + +“Is the check ready, Monsieur Andermatt?” + +“Yes.” + +“And you have also the last document that you received from Louis +Lacombe--the one that completes the plans of the sub-marine?” + +“Yes.” + +The exchange was made. Daspry pocketed the document and the checks, and +offered the packet of letters to Mon. Andermatt. + +“This is what you wanted, Monsieur.” + +The banker hesitated a moment, as if he were afraid to touch those +cursed letters that he had sought so eagerly. Then, with a nervous +movement, he took them. Close to me, I heard a moan. I grasped Madame +Andermatt’s hand. It was cold. + +“I believe, monsieur,” said Daspry to the banker, “that our business is +ended. Oh! no thanks. It was only by a mere chance that I have been able +to do you a good turn. Good-night.” + +Mon. Andermatt retired. He carried with him the letters written by his +wife to Louis Lacombe. + +“Marvelous!” exclaimed Daspry, delighted. “Everything is coming our +way. Now, we have only to close our little affair, comrade. You have the +papers?” + +“Here they are--all of them.” + +Daspry examined them carefully, and then placed them in his pocket. + +“Quite right. You have kept your word,” he said. + +“But---” + +“But what?” + +“The two checks? The money?” said Varin, eagerly. + +“Well, you have a great deal of assurance, my man. How dare you ask such +a thing?” + +“I ask only what is due to me.” + +“Can you ask pay for returning papers that you stole? Well, I think +not!” + +Varin was beside himself. He trembled with rage; his eyes were +bloodshot. + +“The money.... the twenty thousand....” he stammered. + +“Impossible! I need it myself.” + +“The money!” + +“Come, be reasonable, and don’t get excited. It won’t do you any good.” + +Daspry seized his arm so forcibly, that Varin uttered a cry of pain. +Daspry continued: + +“Now, you can go. The air will do you good. Perhaps you want me to show +you the way. Ah! yes, we will go together to the vacant lot near here, +and I will show you a little mound of earth and stones and under it---” + +“That is false! That is false!” + +“Oh! no, it is true. That little iron plate with the seven spots on it +came from there. Louis Lacombe always carried it, and you buried it with +the body--and with some other things that will prove very interesting to +a judge and jury.” + +Varin covered his face with his hands, and muttered: + +“All right, I am beaten. Say no more. But I want to ask you one +question. I should like to know---” + +“What is it?” + +“Was there a little casket in the large safe?” + +“Yes.” + +“Was it there on the night of 22 June?” + +“Yes.” + +“What did it contain?” + +“Everything that the Varin brothers had put in it--a very pretty +collection of diamonds and pearls picked up here and there by the said +brothers.” + +“And did you take it?” + +“Of course I did. Do you blame me?” + +“I understand.... it was the disappearance of that casket that caused my +brother to kill himself.” + +“Probably. The disappearance of your correspondence was not a sufficient +motive. But the disappearance of the casket....Is that all you wish to +ask me?” + +“One thing more: your name?” + +“You ask that with an idea of seeking revenge.” + +“Parbleu! The tables may be turned. Today, you are on top. To-morrow---” + +“It will be you.” + +“I hope so. Your name?” + +“Arsène Lupin.” + +“Arsène Lupin!” + +The man staggered, as though stunned by a heavy blow. Those two words +had deprived him of all hope. + +Daspry laughed, and said: + +“Ah! did you imagine that a Monsieur Durand or Dupont could manage an +affair like this? No, it required the skill and cunning of Arsène Lupin. +And now that you have my name, go and prepare your revenge. Arsène Lupin +will wait for you.” + +Then he pushed the bewildered Varin through the door. + +“Daspry! Daspry!” I cried, pushing aside the curtain. He ran to me. + +“What? What’s the matter?” + +“Madame Andermatt is ill.” + +He hastened to her, caused her to inhale some salts, and, while caring +for her, questioned me: + +“Well, what did it?” + +“The letters of Louis Lacombe that you gave to her husband.” + +He struck his forehead and said: + +“Did she think that I could do such a thing!...But, of course she would. +Imbecile that I am!” + +Madame Andermatt was now revived. Daspry took from his pocket a small +package exactly similar to the one that Mon. Andermatt had carried away. + +“Here are your letters, Madame. These are the genuine letters.” + +“But.... the others?” + +“The others are the same, rewritten by me and carefully worded. Your +husband will not find anything objectionable in them, and will never +suspect the substitution since they were taken from the safe in his +presence.” + +“But the handwriting---” + +“There is no handwriting that cannot be imitated.” + +She thanked him in the same words she might have used to a man in her +own social circle, so I concluded that she had not witnessed the final +scene between Varin and Arsène Lupin. But the surprising revelation +caused me considerable embarrassment. Lupin! My club companion was none +other than Arsène Lupin. I could not realize it. But he said, quite at +his ease: + +“You can say farewell to Jean Daspry.” + +“Ah!” + +“Yes, Jean Daspry is going on a long journey. I shall send him to +Morocco. There, he may find a death worthy of him. I may say that that +is his expectation.” + +“But Arsène Lupin will remain?” + +“Oh! Decidedly. Arsène Lupin is simply at the threshold of his career, +and he expects---” + +I was impelled by curiosity to interrupt him, and, leading him away from +the hearing of Madame Andermatt, I asked: + +“Did you discover the smaller safe yourself--the one that held the +letters?” + +“Yes, after a great deal of trouble. I found it yesterday afternoon +while you were asleep. And yet, God knows it was simple enough! But +the simplest things are the ones that usually escape our notice.” Then, +showing me the seven-of-hearts, he added: “Of course I had guessed that, +in order to open the larger safe, this card must be placed on the sword +of the mosaic king.” + +“How did you guess that?” + +“Quite easily. Through private information, I knew that fact when I came +here on the evening of 22 June---” + +“After you left me---” + +“Yes, after turning the subject of our conversation to stories of crime +and robbery which were sure to reduce you to such a nervous condition +that you would not leave your bed, but would allow me to complete my +search uninterrupted.” + +“The scheme worked perfectly.” + +“Well, I knew when I came here that there was a casket concealed in a +safe with a secret lock, and that the seven-of-hearts was the key +to that lock. I had merely to place the card upon the spot that was +obviously intended for it. An hour’s examination showed me where the +spot was.” + +“One hour!” + +“Observe the fellow in mosaic.” + +“The old emperor?” + +“That old emperor is an exact representation of the king of hearts on +all playing cards.” + +“That’s right. But how does the seven of hearts open the larger safe at +one time and the smaller safe at another time? And why did you open only +the larger safe in the first instance? I mean on the night of 22 June.” + +“Why? Because I always placed the seven of hearts in the same way. I +never changed the position. But, yesterday, I observed that by reversing +the card, by turning it upside down, the arrangement of the seven spots +on the mosaic was changed.” + +“Parbleu!” + +“Of course, parbleu! But a person has to think of those things.” + +“There is something else: you did not know the history of those letters +until Madame Andermatt---” + +“Spoke of them before me? No. Because I found in the safe, besides +the casket, nothing but the correspondence of the two brothers which +disclosed their treachery in regard to the plans.” + +“Then it was by chance that you were led, first, to investigate the +history of the two brothers, and then to search for the plans and +documents relating to the sub-marine?” + +“Simply by chance.” + +“For what purpose did you make the search?” + +“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed Daspry, laughing, “how deeply interested you are!” + +“The subject fascinates me.” + +“Very well, presently, after I have escorted Madame Andermatt to a +carriage, and dispatched a short story to the _Echo de France_, I will +return and tell you all about it.” + +He sat down and wrote one of those short, clear-cut articles which +served to amuse and mystify the public. Who does not recall the +sensation that followed that article produced throughout the entire +world? + +“Arsène Lupin has solved the problem recently submitted by Salvator. +Having acquired possession of all the documents and original plans +of the engineer Louis Lacombe, he has placed them in the hands of +the Minister of Marine, and he has headed a subscription list for the +purpose of presenting to the nation the first submarine constructed from +those plans. His subscription is twenty thousand francs.” + +“Twenty thousand francs! The checks of Mon. Andermatt?” I exclaimed, +when he had given me the paper to read. + +“Exactly. It was quite right that Varin should redeem his treachery.” + +* * * * * + +And that is how I made the acquaintance of Arsène Lupin. That is how +I learned that Jean Daspry, a member of my club, was none other than +Arsène Lupin, gentleman-thief. That is how I formed very agreeable ties +of friendship with that famous man, and, thanks to the confidence +with which he honored me, how I became his very humble and faithful +historiographer. + + + + +VII. Madame Imbert’s Safe + + +At three o’clock in the morning, there were still half a dozen carriages +in front of one of those small houses which form only the side of the +boulevard Berthier. The door of that house opened, and a number of +guests, male and female, emerged. The majority of them entered their +carriages and were quickly driven away, leaving behind only two men who +walked down Courcelles, where they parted, as one of them lived in that +street. The other decided to return on foot as far as the Porte-Maillot. +It was a beautiful winter’s night, clear and cold; a night on which a +brisk walk is agreeable and refreshing. + +But, at the end of a few minutes, he had the disagreeable impression +that he was being followed. Turning around, he saw a man skulking amongst +the trees. He was not a coward; yet he felt it advisable to increase his +speed. Then his pursuer commenced to run; and he deemed it prudent to +draw his revolver and face him. But he had no time. The man rushed at +him and attacked him violently. Immediately, they were engaged in a +desperate struggle, wherein he felt that his unknown assailant had the +advantage. He called for help, struggled, and was thrown down on a pile +of gravel, seized by the throat, and gagged with a handkerchief that his +assailant forced into his mouth. His eyes closed, and the man who +was smothering him with his weight arose to defend himself against an +unexpected attack. A blow from a cane and a kick from a boot; the +man uttered two cries of pain, and fled, limping and cursing. Without +deigning to pursue the fugitive, the new arrival stooped over the +prostrate man and inquired: + +“Are you hurt, monsieur?” + +He was not injured, but he was dazed and unable to stand. His rescuer +procured a carriage, placed him in it, and accompanied him to his house +on the avenue de la Grande-Armée. On his arrival there, quite recovered, +he overwhelmed his saviour with thanks. + +“I owe you my life, monsieur, and I shall not forget it. I do not wish +to alarm my wife at this time of night, but, to-morrow, she will be +pleased to thank you personally. Come and breakfast with us. My name is +Ludovic Imbert. May I ask yours?” + +“Certainly, monsieur.” + +And he handed Mon. Imbert a card bearing the name: “Arsène Lupin.” + +* * * * * + +At that time, Arsène Lupin did not enjoy the celebrity which the Cahorn +affair, his escape from the Prison de la Santé, and other brilliant +exploits, afterwards gained for him. He had not even used the name of +Arsène Lupin. The name was specially invented to designate the rescuer +of Mon. Imbert; that is to say, it was in that affair that Arsène +Lupin was baptized. Fully armed and ready for the fray, it is true, but +lacking the resources and authority which command success, Arsène Lupin +was then merely an apprentice in a profession wherein he soon became a +master. + +With what a thrill of joy he recalled the invitation he received that +night! At last, he had reached his goal! At last, he had undertaken +a task worthy of his strength and skill! The Imbert millions! What a +magnificent feast for an appetite like his! + +He prepared a special toilet for the occasion; a shabby frock-coat, +baggy trousers, a frayed silk hat, well-worn collar and cuffs, all quite +correct in form, but bearing the unmistakable stamp of poverty. His +cravat was a black ribbon pinned with a false diamond. Thus accoutred, +he descended the stairs of the house in which he lived at Montmartre. At +the third floor, without stopping, he rapped on a closed door with the +head of his cane. He walked to the exterior boulevards. A tram-car was +passing. He boarded it, and some one who had been following him took a +seat beside him. It was the lodger who occupied the room on the third +floor. A moment later, this man said to Lupin: + +“Well, governor?” + +“Well, it is all fixed.” + +“How?” + +“I am going there to breakfast.” + +“You breakfast--there!” + +“Certainly. Why not? I rescued Mon. Ludovic Imbert from certain death +at your hands. Mon. Imbert is not devoid of gratitude. He invited me to +breakfast.” + +There was a brief silence. Then the other said: + +“But you are not going to throw up the scheme?” + +“My dear boy,” said Lupin, “When I arranged that little case of assault +and battery, when I took the trouble at three o’clock in the morning, to +rap you with my cane and tap you with my boot at the risk of injuring +my only friend, it was not my intention to forego the advantages to be +gained from a rescue so well arranged and executed. Oh! no, not at all.” + +“But the strange rumors we hear about their fortune?” + +“Never mind about that. For six months, I have worked on this affair, +investigated it, studied it, questioned the servants, the money-lenders +and men of straw; for six months, I have shadowed the husband and wife. +Consequently, I know what I am talking about. Whether the fortune came +to them from old Brawford, as they pretend, or from some other source, +I do not care. I know that it is a reality; that it exists. And some day +it will be mine.” + +“Bigre! One hundred millions!” + +“Let us say ten, or even five--that is enough! They have a safe full +of bonds, and there will be the devil to pay if I can’t get my hands on +them.” + +The tram-car stopped at the Place de l’Etoile. The man whispered to +Lupin: + +“What am I to do now?” + +“Nothing, at present. You will hear from me. There is no hurry.” + +Five minutes later, Arsène Lupin was ascending the magnificent flight +of stairs in the Imbert mansion, and Mon. Imbert introduced him to +his wife. Madame Gervaise Imbert was a short plump woman, and very +talkative. She gave Lupin a cordial welcome. + +“I desired that we should be alone to entertain our saviour,” she said. + +From the outset, they treated “our saviour” as an old and valued friend. +By the time dessert was served, their friendship was well cemented, and +private confidences were being exchanged. Arsène related the story of +his life, the life of his father as a magistrate, the sorrows of his +childhood, and his present difficulties. Gervaise, in turn, spoke of +her youth, her marriage, the kindness of the aged Brawford, the hundred +millions that she had inherited, the obstacles that prevented her from +obtaining the enjoyment of her inheritance, the moneys she had been +obliged to borrow at an exorbitant rate of interest, her endless +contentions with Brawford’s nephews, and the litigation! the +injunctions! in fact, everything! + +“Just think of it, Monsieur Lupin, the bonds are there, in my husband’s +office, and if we detach a single coupon, we lose everything! They are +there, in our safe, and we dare not touch them.” + +Monsieur Lupin shivered at the bare idea of his proximity to so much +wealth. Yet he felt quite certain that Monsieur Lupin would never suffer +from the same difficulty as his fair hostess who declared she dare not +touch the money. + +“Ah! they are there!” he repeated, to himself; “they are there!” + +A friendship formed under such circumstances soon led to closer +relations. When discreetly questioned, Arsène Lupin confessed his +poverty and distress. Immediately, the unfortunate young man was +appointed private secretary to the Imberts, husband and wife, at a +salary of one hundred francs a month. He was to come to the house every +day and receive orders for his work, and a room on the second floor +was set apart as his office. This room was directly over Mon. Imbert’s +office. + +Arsène soon realized that his position as secretary was essentially +a sinecure. During the first two months, he had only four important +letters to recopy, and was called only once to Mon. Imbert’s office; +consequently, he had only one opportunity to contemplate, officially, +the Imbert safe. Moreover, he noticed that the secretary was not invited +to the social functions of the employer. But he did not complain, as he +preferred to remain, modestly, in the shade and maintain his peace and +freedom. + +However, he was not wasting any time. From the beginning, he made +clandestine visits to Mon. Imbert’s office, and paid his respects to the +safe, which was hermetically closed. It was an immense block of iron and +steel, cold and stern in appearance, which could not be forced open +by the ordinary tools of the burglar’s trade. But Arsène Lupin was not +discouraged. + +“Where force fails, cunning prevails,” he said to himself. “The +essential thing is to be on the spot when the opportunity occurs. In the +meantime, I must watch and wait.” + +He made immediately some preliminary preparations. After careful +soundings made upon the floor of his room, he introduced a lead pipe +which penetrated the ceiling of Mon. Imbert’s office at a point between +the two screeds of the cornice. By means of this pipe, he hoped to see +and hear what transpired in the room below. + +Henceforth, he passed his days stretched at full length upon the floor. +He frequently saw the Imberts holding a consultation in front of the +safe, investigating books and papers. When they turned the combination +lock, he tried to learn the figures and the number of turns they made to +the right and left. He watched their movements; he sought to catch their +words. There was also a key necessary to complete the opening of the +safe. What did they do with it? Did they hide it? + +One day, he saw them leave the room without locking the safe. He +descended the stairs quickly, and boldly entered the room. But they had +returned. + +“Oh! excuse me,” he said, “I made a mistake in the door.” + +“Come in, Monsieur Lupin, come in,” cried Madame Imbert, “are you not at +home here? We want your advice. What bonds should we sell? The foreign +securities or the government annuities?” + +“But the injunction?” said Lupin, with surprise. + +“Oh! it doesn’t cover all the bonds.” + +She opened the door of the safe and withdrew a package of bonds. But her +husband protested. + +“No, no, Gervaise, it would be foolish to sell the foreign bonds. They +are going up, whilst the annuities are as high as they ever will be. +What do you think, my dear friend?” + +The dear friend had no opinion; yet he advised the sacrifice of the +annuities. Then she withdrew another package and, from it, she took +a paper at random. It proved to be a three-per-cent annuity worth two +thousand francs. Ludovic placed the package of bonds in his pocket. +That afternoon, accompanied by his secretary, he sold the annuities to a +stock-broker and realized forty-six thousand francs. + +Whatever Madame Imbert might have said about it, Arsène Lupin did not +feel at home in the Imbert house. On the contrary, his position there +was a peculiar one. He learned that the servants did not even know his +name. They called him “monsieur.” Ludovic always spoke of him in the +same way: “You will tell monsieur. Has monsieur arrived?” Why that +mysterious appellation? + +Moreover, after their first outburst of enthusiasm, the Imberts seldom +spoke to him, and, although treating him with the consideration due to +a benefactor, they gave him little or no attention. They appeared to +regard him as an eccentric character who did not like to be disturbed, +and they respected his isolation as if it were a stringent rule on his +part. On one occasion, while passing through the vestibule, he heard +Madame Imbert say to the two gentlemen: + +“He is such a barbarian!” + +“Very well,” he said to himself, “I am a barbarian.” + +And, without seeking to solve the question of their strange conduct, he +proceeded with the execution of his own plans. He had decided that he +could not depend on chance, nor on the negligence of Madame Imbert, who +carried the key of the safe, and who, on locking the safe, invariably +scattered the letters forming the combination of the lock. Consequently, +he must act for himself. + +Finally, an incident precipitated matters; it was the vehement campaign +instituted against the Imberts by certain newspapers that accused +the Imberts of swindling. Arsène Lupin was present at certain family +conferences when this new vicissitude was discussed. He decided that if +he waited much longer, he would lose everything. During the next five +days, instead of leaving the house about six o’clock, according to his +usual habit, he locked himself in his room. It was supposed that he had +gone out. But he was lying on the floor surveying the office of Mon. +Imbert. During those five evenings, the favorable opportunity that he +awaited did not take place. He left the house about midnight by a side +door to which he held the key. + +But on the sixth day, he learned that the Imberts, actuated by the +malevolent insinuations of their enemies, proposed to make an inventory +of the contents of the safe. + +“They will do it to-night,” thought Lupin. + +And truly, after dinner, Imbert and his wife retired to the office and +commenced to examine the books of account and the securities contained +in the safe. Thus, one hour after another passed away. He heard the +servants go upstairs to their rooms. No one now remained on the first +floor. Midnight! The Imberts were still at work. + +“I must get to work,” murmured Lupin. + +He opened his window. It opened on a court. Outside, everything was +dark and quiet. He took from his desk a knotted rope, fastened it to +the balcony in front of his window, and quietly descended as far as the +window below, which was that of the of Imbert’s office. He stood upon +the balcony for a moment, motionless, with attentive ear and watchful +eye, but the heavy curtains effectually concealed the interior of the +room. He cautiously pushed on the double window. If no one had examined +it, it ought to yield to the slightest pressure, for, during the +afternoon, he had so fixed the bolt that it would not enter the staple. + +The window yielded to his touch. Then, with infinite care, he pushed +it open sufficiently to admit his head. He parted the curtains a few +inches, looked in, and saw Mon. Imbert and his wife sitting in front +of the safe, deeply absorbed in their work and speaking softly to each +other at rare intervals. + +He calculated the distance between him and them, considered the exact +movements he would require to make in order to overcome them, one after +the other, before they could call for help, and he was about to rush +upon them, when Madame Imbert said: + +“Ah! the room is getting quite cold. I am going to bed. And you, my +dear?” + +“I shall stay and finish.” + +“Finish! Why, that will take you all night.” + +“Not at all. An hour, at the most.” + +She retired. Twenty minutes, thirty minutes passed. Arsène pushed the +window a little farther open. The curtains shook. He pushed once more. +Mon. Imbert turned, and, seeing the curtains blown by the wind, he rose +to close the window. + +There was not a cry, not the trace of struggle. With a few precise +moments, and without causing him the least injury, Arsène stunned him, +wrapped the curtain about his head, bound him hand and foot, and did it +all in such a manner that Mon. Imbert had no opportunity to recognize +his assailant. + +Quickly, he approached the safe, seized two packages that he placed +under his arm, left the office, and opened the servants’ gate. A +carriage was stationed in the street. + +“Take that, first--and follow me,” he said to the coachman. He returned +to the office, and, in two trips, they emptied the safe. Then Arsène +went to his own room, removed the rope, and all other traces of his +clandestine work. + +A few hours later, Arsène Lupin and his assistant examined the stolen +goods. Lupin was not disappointed, as he had foreseen that the wealth of +the Imberts had been greatly exaggerated. It did not consist of hundreds +of millions, nor even tens of millions. Yet it amounted to a very +respectable sum, and Lupin expressed his satisfaction. + +“Of course,” he said, “there will be a considerable loss when we come +to sell the bonds, as we will have to dispose of them surreptitiously +at reduced prices. In the meantime, they will rest quietly in my desk +awaiting a propitious moment.” + +Arsène saw no reason why he should not go to the Imbert house the next +day. But a perusal of the morning papers revealed this startling fact: +Ludovic and Gervaise Imbert had disappeared. + +When the officers of the law seized the safe and opened it, they found +there what Arsène Lupin had left--nothing. + +* * * * * + +Such are the facts; and I learned the sequel to them, one day, when +Arsène Lupin was in a confidential mood. He was pacing to and fro in my +room, with a nervous step and a feverish eye that were unusual to him. + +“After all,” I said to him, “it was your most successful venture.” + +Without making a direct reply, he said: + +“There are some impenetrable secrets connected with that affair; some +obscure points that escape my comprehension. For instance: What +caused their flight? Why did they not take advantage of the help I +unconsciously gave them? It would have been so simple to say: ‘The +hundred millions were in the safe. They are no longer there, because +they have been stolen.’” + +“They lost their nerve.” + +“Yes, that is it--they lost their nerve...On the other hand, it is +true---” + +“What is true?” + +“Oh! nothing.” + +What was the meaning of Lupin’s reticence? It was quite obvious that he +had not told me everything; there was something he was loath to tell. +His conduct puzzled me. It must indeed be a very serious matter to cause +such a man as Arsène Lupin even a momentary hesitation. I threw out a +few questions at random. + +“Have you seen them since?” + +“No.” + +“And have you never experienced the slightest degree of pity for those +unfortunate people?” + +“I!” he exclaimed, with a start. + +His sudden excitement astonished me. Had I touched him on a sore spot? I +continued: + +“Of course. If you had not left them alone, they might have been able to +face the danger, or, at least, made their escape with full pockets.” + +“What do you mean?” he said, indignantly. “I suppose you have an idea +that my soul should be filled with remorse?” + +“Call it remorse or regrets--anything you like---” + +“They are not worth it.” + +“Have you no regrets or remorse for having stolen their fortune?” + +“What fortune?” + +“The packages of bonds you took from their safe.” + +“Oh! I stole their bonds, did I? I deprived them of a portion of their +wealth? Is that my crime? Ah! my dear boy, you do not know the truth. +You never imagined that those bonds were not worth the paper they were +written on. Those bonds were false--they were counterfeit--every one of +them--do you understand? THEY WERE COUNTERFEIT!” + +I looked at him, astounded. + +“Counterfeit! The four or five millions?” + +“Yes, counterfeit!” he exclaimed, in a fit of rage. “Only so many scraps +of paper! I couldn’t raise a sou on the whole of them! And you ask me if +I have any remorse. _They_ are the ones who should have remorse and pity. +They played me for a simpleton; and I fell into their trap. I was their +latest victim, their most stupid gull!” + +He was affected by genuine anger--the result of malice and wounded +pride. He continued: + +“From start to finish, I got the worst of it. Do you know the part I +played in that affair, or rather the part they made me play? That of +André Brawford! Yes, my boy, that is the truth, and I never suspected +it. It was not until afterwards, on reading the newspapers, that the +light finally dawned in my stupid brain. Whilst I was posing as his +“saviour,” as the gentleman who had risked his life to rescue Mon. +Imbert from the clutches of an assassin, they were passing me off as +Brawford. Wasn’t that splendid? That eccentric individual who had a +room on the second floor, that barbarian that was exhibited only at a +distance, was Brawford, and Brawford was I! Thanks to me, and to the +confidence that I inspired under the name of Brawford, they were enabled +to borrow money from the bankers and other money-lenders. Ha! what an +experience for a novice! And I swear to you that I shall profit by the +lesson!” + +He stopped, seized my arm, and said to me, in a tone of exasperation: + +“My dear fellow, at this very moment, Gervaise Imbert owes me fifteen +hundred francs.” + +I could not refrain from laughter, his rage was so grotesque. He was +making a mountain out of a molehill. In a moment, he laughed himself, +and said: + +“Yes, my boy, fifteen hundred francs. You must know that I had not +received one sou of my promised salary, and, more than that, she had +borrowed from me the sum of fifteen hundred francs. All my youthful +savings! And do you know why? To devote the money to charity! I am +giving you a straight story. She wanted it for some poor people she was +assisting--unknown to her husband. And my hard-earned money was wormed +out of me by that silly pretense! Isn’t it amusing, hein? Arsène Lupin +done out of fifteen hundred francs by the fair lady from whom he stole +four millions in counterfeit bonds! And what a vast amount of time and +patience and cunning I expended to achieve that result! It was the first +time in my life that I was played for a fool, and I frankly confess that +I was fooled that time to the queen’s taste!” + + + + +VIII. The Black Pearl + + +A violent ringing of the bell awakened the concierge of number nine, +avenue Hoche. She pulled the doorstring, grumbling: + +“I thought everybody was in. It must be three o’clock!” + +“Perhaps it is some one for the doctor,” muttered her husband. + +At that moment, a voice inquired: + +“Doctor Harel .... what floor?” + +“Third floor, left. But the doctor won’t go out at night.” + +“He must go to-night.” + +The visitor entered the vestibule, ascended to the first floor, the +second, the third, and, without stopping at the doctor’s door, he +continued to the fifth floor. There, he tried two keys. One of them +fitted the lock. + +“Ah! good!” he murmured, “that simplifies the business wonderfully. +But before I commence work I had better arrange for my retreat. Let me +see.... have I had sufficient time to rouse the doctor and be dismissed +by him? Not yet.... a few minutes more.” + +At the end of ten minutes, he descended the stairs, grumbling noisily +about the doctor. The concierge opened the door for him and heard it +click behind him. But the door did not lock, as the man had quickly +inserted a piece of iron in the lock in such a manner that the bolt +could not enter. Then, quietly, he entered the house again, unknown to +the concierge. In case of alarm, his retreat was assured. Noiselessly, +he ascended to the fifth floor once more. In the antechamber, by the +light of his electric lantern, he placed his hat and overcoat on one +of the chairs, took a seat on another, and covered his heavy shoes with +felt slippers. + +“Ouf! Here I am--and how simple it was! I wonder why more people do not +adopt the profitable and pleasant occupation of burglar. With a little +care and reflection, it becomes a most delightful profession. Not too +quiet and monotonous, of course, as it would then become wearisome.” + +He unfolded a detailed plan of the apartment. + +“Let me commence by locating myself. Here, I see the vestibule in which +I am sitting. On the street front, the drawing-room, the boudoir and +dining-room. Useless to waste any time there, as it appears that the +countess has a deplorable taste.... not a bibelot of any value!...Now, +let’s get down to business!... Ah! here is a corridor; it must lead to +the bed chambers. At a distance of three metres, I should come to the +door of the wardrobe-closet which connects with the chamber of the +countess.” He folded his plan, extinguished his lantern, and proceeded +down the corridor, counting his distance, thus: + +“One metre.... two metres.... three metres....Here is the door....Mon +Dieu, how easy it is! Only a small, simple bolt now separates me from +the chamber, and I know that the bolt is located exactly one metre, +forty-three centimeters, from the floor. So that, thanks to a small +incision I am about to make, I can soon get rid of the bolt.” + +He drew from his pocket the necessary instruments. Then the following +idea occurred to him: + +“Suppose, by chance, the door is not bolted. I will try it first.” + +He turned the knob, and the door opened. + +“My brave Lupin, surely fortune favors you....What’s to be done now? +You know the situation of the rooms; you know the place in which the +countess hides the black pearl. Therefore, in order to secure the black +pearl, you have simply to be more silent than silence, more invisible +than darkness itself.” + +Arsène Lupin was employed fully a half-hour in opening the second +door--a glass door that led to the countess’ bedchamber. But he +accomplished it with so much skill and precaution, that even had +the countess been awake, she would not have heard the slightest sound. +According to the plan of the rooms, that he holds, he has merely to pass +around a reclining chair and, beyond that, a small table close to the +bed. On the table, there was a box of letter-paper, and the black pearl +was concealed in that box. He stooped and crept cautiously over the +carpet, following the outlines of the reclining-chair. When he reached +the extremity of it, he stopped in order to repress the throbbing of +his heart. Although he was not moved by any sense of fear, he found it +impossible to overcome the nervous anxiety that one usually feels in the +midst of profound silence. That circumstance astonished him, because he +had passed through many more solemn moments without the slightest trace +of emotion. No danger threatened him. Then why did his heart throb like +an alarm-bell? Was it that sleeping woman who affected him? Was it the +proximity of another pulsating heart? + +He listened, and thought he could discern the rhythmical breathing of a +person asleep. It gave him confidence, like the presence of a friend. +He sought and found the armchair; then, by slow, cautious movements, +advanced toward the table, feeling ahead of him with outstretched arm. +His right had touched one of the feet of the table. Ah! now, he had +simply to rise, take the pearl, and escape. That was fortunate, as his +heart was leaping in his breast like a wild beast, and made so much +noise that he feared it would waken the countess. By a powerful effort +of the will, he subdued the wild throbbing of his heart, and was about +to rise from the floor when his left hand encountered, lying on the +floor, an object which he recognized as a candlestick--an overturned +candlestick. A moment later, his hand encountered another object: +a clock--one of those small traveling clocks, covered with +leather.------- + +Well! What had happened? He could not understand. That candlestick, that +clock; why were those articles not in their accustomed places? Ah! what +had happened in the dread silence of the night? + +Suddenly a cry escaped him. He had touched--oh! some strange, +unutterable thing! “No! no!” he thought, “it cannot be. It is some +fantasy of my excited brain.” For twenty seconds, thirty seconds, he +remained motionless, terrified, his forehead bathed with perspiration, +and his fingers still retained the sensation of that dreadful contact. + +Making a desperate effort, he ventured to extend his arm again. Once +more, his hand encountered that strange, unutterable thing. He felt +it. He must feel it and find out what it is. He found that it was hair, +human hair, and a human face; and that face was cold, almost icy. + +However frightful the circumstances may be, a man like Arsène Lupin +controls himself and commands the situation as soon as he learns what it +is. So, Arsène Lupin quickly brought his lantern into use. A woman +was lying before him, covered with blood. Her neck and shoulders +were covered with gaping wounds. He leaned over her and made a closer +examination. She was dead. + +“Dead! Dead!” he repeated, with a bewildered air. + +He stared at those fixed eyes, that grim mouth, that livid flesh, +and that blood--all that blood which had flowed over the carpet and +congealed there in thick, black spots. He arose and turned on the +electric lights. Then he beheld all the marks of a desperate struggle. +The bed was in a state of great disorder. On the floor, the candlestick, +and the clock, with the hands pointing to twenty minutes after eleven; +then, further away, an overturned chair; and, everywhere, there was +blood, spots of blood and pools of blood. + +“And the black pearl?” he murmured. + +The box of letter-paper was in its place. He opened it, eagerly. The +jewel-case was there, but it was empty. + +“Fichtre!” he muttered. “You boasted of your good fortune much too soon, +my friend Lupin. With the countess lying cold and dead, and the black +pearl vanished, the situation is anything but pleasant. Get out of here +as soon as you can, or you may get into serious trouble.” + +Yet, he did not move. + +“Get out of here? Yes, of course. Any person would, except Arsène Lupin. +He has something better to do. Now, to proceed in an orderly way. At +all events, you have a clear conscience. Let us suppose that you are +the commissary of police and that you are proceeding to make an inquiry +concerning this affair----Yes, but in order to do that, I require a +clearer brain. Mine is muddled like a ragout.” + +He tumbled into an armchair, with his clenched hands pressed against his +burning forehead. + +* * * * * + +The murder of the avenue Hoche is one of those which have recently +surprised and puzzled the Parisian public, and, certainly, I should +never have mentioned the affair if the veil of mystery had not been +removed by Arsène Lupin himself. No one knew the exact truth of the +case. + +Who did not know--from having met her in the Bois--the fair Léotine +Zalti, the once-famous cantatrice, wife and widow of the Count +d’Andillot; the Zalti, whose luxury dazzled all Paris some twenty years +ago; the Zalti who acquired an European reputation for the magnificence +of her diamonds and pearls? It was said that she wore upon her shoulders +the capital of several banking houses and the gold mines of numerous +Australian companies. Skilful jewelers worked for Zalti as they had +formerly wrought for kings and queens. And who does not remember the +catastrophe in which all that wealth was swallowed up? Of all that +marvelous collection, nothing remained except the famous black pearl. +The black pearl! That is to say a fortune, if she had wished to part +with it. + +But she preferred to keep it, to live in a commonplace apartment with +her companion, her cook, and a man-servant, rather than sell that +inestimable jewel. There was a reason for it; a reason she was not +afraid to disclose: the black pearl was the gift of an emperor! Almost +ruined, and reduced to the most mediocre existence, she remained +faithful to the companion of her happy and brilliant youth. The black +pearl never left her possession. She wore it during the day, and, at +night, concealed it in a place known to her alone. + +All these facts, being republished in the columns of the public press, +served to stimulate curiosity; and, strange to say, but quite obvious +to those who have the key to the mystery, the arrest of the presumed +assassin only complicated the question and prolonged the excitement. Two +days later, the newspapers published the following item: + +“Information has reached us of the arrest of Victor Danègre, the servant +of the Countess d’Andillot. The evidence against him is clear and +convincing. On the silken sleeve of his liveried waistcoat, which chief +detective Dudouis found in his garret between the mattresses of his bed, +several spots of blood were discovered. In addition, a cloth-covered +button was missing from that garment, and this button was found beneath +the bed of the victim. + +“It is supposed that, after dinner, in place of going to his own room, +Danègre slipped into the wardrobe-closet, and, through the glass door, +had seen the countess hide the precious black pearl. This is simply +a theory, as yet unverified by any evidence. There is, also, another +obscure point. At seven o’clock in the morning, Danègre went to the +tobacco-shop on the Boulevard de Courcelles; the concierge and the +shop-keeper both affirm this fact. On the other hand, the countess’ +companion and cook, who sleep at the end of the hall, both declare that, +when they arose at eight o’clock, the door of the antechamber and the +door of the kitchen were locked. These two persons have been in the +service of the countess for twenty years, and are above suspicion. The +question is: How did Danègre leave the apartment? Did he have another +key? These are matters that the police will investigate.” + +As a matter of fact, the police investigation threw no light on the +mystery. It was learned that Victor Danègre was a dangerous criminal, a +drunkard and a debauchee. But, as they proceeded with the investigation, +the mystery deepened and new complications arose. In the first place, +a young woman, Mlle. De Sinclèves, the cousin and sole heiress of the +countess, declared that the countess, a month before her death, had +written a letter to her and in it described the manner in which the +black pearl was concealed. The letter disappeared the day after she +received it. Who had stolen it? + +Again, the concierge related how she had opened the door for a person +who had inquired for Doctor Harel. On being questioned, the doctor +testified that no one had rung his bell. Then who was that person? An +accomplice? + +The theory of an accomplice was thereupon adopted by the press and +public, and also by Ganimard, the famous detective. + +“Lupin is at the bottom of this affair,” he said to the judge. + +“Bah!” exclaimed the judge, “you have Lupin on the brain. You see him +everywhere.” + +“I see him everywhere, because he is everywhere.” + +“Say rather that you see him every time you encounter something you +cannot explain. Besides, you overlook the fact that the crime was +committed at twenty minutes past eleven in the evening, as is shown +by the clock, while the nocturnal visit, mentioned by the concierge, +occurred at three o’clock in the morning.” + +Officers of the law frequently form a hasty conviction as to the guilt +of a suspected person, and then distort all subsequent discoveries +to conform to their established theory. The deplorable antecedents of +Victor Danègre, habitual criminal, drunkard and rake, influenced +the judge, and despite the fact that nothing new was discovered in +corroboration of the early clues, his official opinion remained firm and +unshaken. He closed his investigation, and, a few weeks later, the trial +commenced. It proved to be slow and tedious. The judge was listless, +and the public prosecutor presented the case in a careless manner. Under +those circumstances, Danègre’s counsel had an easy task. He pointed out +the defects and inconsistencies of the case for the prosecution, and +argued that the evidence was quite insufficient to convict the accused. +Who had made the key, the indispensable key without which Danègre, on +leaving the apartment, could not have locked the door behind him? Who +had ever seen such a key, and what had become of it? Who had seen the +assassin’s knife, and where is it now? + +“In any event,” argued the prisoner’s counsel, “the prosecution must +prove, beyond any reasonable doubt, that the prisoner committed the +murder. The prosecution must show that the mysterious individual who +entered the house at three o’clock in the morning is not the guilty +party. To be sure, the clock indicated eleven o’clock. But what of that? +I contend, that proves nothing. The assassin could turn the hands of the +clock to any hour he pleased, and thus deceive us in regard to the exact +hour of the crime.” + +Victor Danègre was acquitted. + +He left the prison on Friday about dusk in the evening, weak and +depressed by his six months’ imprisonment. The inquisition, the +solitude, the trial, the deliberations of the jury, combined to fill +him with a nervous fear. At night, he had been afflicted with terrible +nightmares and haunted by weird visions of the scaffold. He was a mental +and physical wreck. + +Under the assumed name of Anatole Dufour, he rented a small room on the +heights of Montmartre, and lived by doing odd jobs wherever he could +find them. He led a pitiful existence. Three times, he obtained regular +employment, only to be recognized and then discharged. Sometimes, he +had an idea that men were following him--detectives, no doubt, who were +seeking to trap and denounce him. He could almost feel the strong hand +of the law clutching him by the collar. + +One evening, as he was eating his dinner at a neighboring restaurant, +a man entered and took a seat at the same table. He was a person about +forty years of age, and wore a frock-coat of doubtful cleanliness. He +ordered soup, vegetables, and a bottle of wine. After he had finished +his soup, he turned his eyes on Danègre, and gazed at him intently. +Danègre winced. He was certain that this was one of the men who had +been following him for several weeks. What did he want? Danègre tried +to rise, but failed. His limbs refused to support him. The man poured +himself a glass of wine, and then filled Danègre’s glass. The man raised +his glass, and said: + +“To your health, Victor Danègre.” + +Victor started in alarm, and stammered: + +“I!....I!.... no, no....I swear to you....” + +“You will swear what? That you are not yourself? The servant of the +countess?” + +“What servant? My name is Dufour. Ask the proprietor.” + +“Yes, Anatole Dufour to the proprietor of this restaurant, but Victor +Danègre to the officers of the law.” + +“That’s not true! Some one has lied to you.” + +The new-comer took a card from his pocket and handed it to Victor, who +read on it: “Grimaudan, ex-inspector of the detective force. Private +business transacted.” Victor shuddered as he said: + +“You are connected with the police?” + +“No, not now, but I have a liking for the business and I continue to +work at it in a manner more--profitable. From time to time I strike upon +a golden opportunity--such as your case presents.” + +“My case?” + +“Yes, yours. I assure you it is a most promising affair, provided you +are inclined to be reasonable.” + +“But if I am not reasonable?” + +“Oh! my good fellow, you are not in a position to refuse me anything I +may ask.” + +“What is it.... you want?” stammered Victor, fearfully. + +“Well, I will inform you in a few words. I am sent by Mademoiselle de +Sinclèves, the heiress of the Countess d’Andillot.” + +“What for?” + +“To recover the black pearl.” + +“Black pearl?” + +“That you stole.” + +“But I haven’t got it.” + +“You have it.” + +“If I had, then I would be the assassin.” + +“You are the assassin.” + +Danègre showed a forced smile. + +“Fortunately for me, monsieur, the Assizecourt was not of your opinion. +The jury returned an unanimous verdict of acquittal. And when a man has +a clear conscience and twelve good men in his favor--” + +The ex-inspector seized him by the arm and said: + +“No fine phrases, my boy. Now, listen to me and weigh my words +carefully. You will find they are worthy of your consideration. Now, +Danègre, three weeks before the murder, you abstracted the cook’s key +to the servants’ door, and had a duplicate key made by a locksmith named +Outard, 244 rue Oberkampf.” + +“It’s a lie--it’s a lie!” growled Victor. “No person has seen that key. +There is no such key.” + +“Here it is.” + +After a silence, Grimaudan continued: + +“You killed the countess with a knife purchased by you at the Bazar de +la Republique on the same day as you ordered the duplicate key. It has a +triangular blade with a groove running from end to end.” + +“That is all nonsense. You are simply guessing at something you don’t +know. No one ever saw the knife.” + +“Here it is.” + +Victor Danègre recoiled. The ex-inspector continued: + +“There are some spots of rust upon it. Shall I tell you how they came +there?” + +“Well!.... you have a key and a knife. Who can prove that they belong to +me?” + +“The locksmith, and the clerk from whom you bought the knife. I have +already refreshed their memories, and, when you confront them, they +cannot fail to recognize you.” + +His speech was dry and hard, with a tone of firmness and precision. +Danègre was trembling with fear, and yet he struggled desperately to +maintain an air of indifference. + +“Is that all the evidence you have?” + +“Oh! no, not at all. I have plenty more. For instance, after the crime, +you went out the same way you had entered. But, in the centre of the +wardrobe-room, being seized by some sudden fear, you leaned against the +wall for support.” + +“How do you know that? No one could know such a thing,” argued the +desperate man. + +“The police know nothing about it, of course. They never think of +lighting a candle and examining the walls. But if they had done so, they +would have found on the white plaster a faint red spot, quite distinct, +however, to trace in it the imprint of your thumb which you had pressed +against the wall while it was wet with blood. Now, as you are well +aware, under the Bertillon system, thumb-marks are one of the principal +means of identification.” + +Victor Danègre was livid; great drops of perspiration rolled down his +face and fell upon the table. He gazed, with a wild look, at the strange +man who had narrated the story of his crime as faithfully as if he had +been an invisible witness to it. Overcome and powerless, Victor bowed +his head. He felt that it was useless to struggle against this marvelous +man. So he said: + +“How much will you give me, if I give you the pearl?” + +“Nothing.” + +“Oh! you are joking! Or do you mean that I should give you an article +worth thousands and hundreds of thousands and get nothing in return?” + +“You will get your life. Is that nothing?” + +The unfortunate man shuddered. Then Grimaudan added, in a milder tone: + +“Come, Danègre, that pearl has no value in your hands. It is quite +impossible for you to sell it; so what is the use of your keeping it?” + +“There are pawnbrokers.... and, some day, I will be able to get something +for it.” + +“But that day may be too late.” + +“Why?” + +“Because by that time you may be in the hands of the police, and, +with the evidence that I can furnish--the knife, the key, the +thumb-mark--what will become of you?” + +Victor rested his head on his hands and reflected. He felt that he was +lost, irremediably lost, and, at the same time, a sense of weariness and +depression overcame him. He murmured, faintly: + +“When must I give it to you?” + +“To-night---within an hour.” + +“If I refuse?” + +“If you refuse, I shall post this letter to the Procureur of the +Republic; in which letter Mademoiselle de Sinclèves denounces you as the +assassin.” + +Danègre poured out two glasses of wine which he drank in rapid +succession, then, rising, said: + +“Pay the bill, and let us go. I have had enough of the cursed affair.” + +Night had fallen. The two men walked down the rue Lepic and followed +the exterior boulevards in the direction of the Place de l’Etoile. +They pursued their way in silence; Victor had a stooping carriage and a +dejected face. When they reached the Parc Monceau, he said: + +“We are near the house.” + +“Parbleu! You only left the house once, before your arrest, and that was +to go to the tobacco-shop.” + +“Here it is,” said Danègre, in a dull voice. + +They passed along the garden wall of the countess’ house, and crossed a +street on a corner of which stood the tobacco-shop. A few steps further +on, Danègre stopped; his limbs shook beneath him, and he sank to a +bench. + +“Well! what now?” demanded his companion. + +“It is there.” + +“Where? Come, now, no nonsense!” + +“There--in front of us.” + +“Where?” + +“Between two paving-stones.” + +“Which?” + +“Look for it.” + +“Which stones?” + +Victor made no reply. + +“Ah; I see!” exclaimed Grimaudan, “you want me to pay for the +information.” + +“No.... but....I am afraid I will starve to death.” + +“So! that is why you hesitate. Well, I’ll not be hard on you. How much +do you want?” + +“Enough to buy a steerage pass to America.” + +“All right.” + +“And a hundred francs to keep me until I get work there.” + +“You shall have two hundred. Now, speak.” + +“Count the paving-stones to the right from the sewer-hole. The pearl is +between the twelfth and thirteenth.” + +“In the gutter?” + +“Yes, close to the sidewalk.” + +Grimaudan glanced around to see if anyone were looking. Some tram-cars +and pedestrians were passing. But, bah, they will not suspect anything. +He opened his pocketknife and thrust it between the twelfth and +thirteenth stones. + +“And if it is not there?” he said to Victor. + +“It must be there, unless someone saw me stoop down and hide it.” + +Could it be possible that the black pearl had been cast into the mud +and filth of the gutter to be picked up by the first comer? The black +pearl--a fortune! + +“How far down?” he asked. + +“About ten centimetres.” + +He dug up the wet earth. The point of his knife struck something. He +enlarged the hole with his finger. Then he abstracted the black pearl +from its filthy hiding-place. + +“Good! Here are your two hundred francs. I will send you the ticket for +America.” + +On the following day, this article was published in the _Echo de +France_, and was copied by the leading newspapers throughout the world: + + “Yesterday, the famous black pearl came into the possession of + Arsène Lupin, who recovered it from the murderer of the Countess + d’Andillot. In a short time, fac-similes of that precious jewel + will be exhibited in London, St. Petersburg, Calcutta, Buenos Ayres + and New York. + + “Arsène Lupin will be pleased to consider all propositions + submitted to him through his agents.” + +* * * * * + +“And that is how crime is always punished and virtue rewarded,” said +Arsène Lupin, after he had told me the foregoing history of the black +pearl. + +“And that is how you, under the assumed name of Grimaudan, ex-inspector +of detectives, were chosen by fate to deprive the criminal of the +benefit of his crime.” + +“Exactly. And I confess that the affair gives me infinite satisfaction +and pride. The forty minutes that I passed in the apartment of the +Countess d’Andillot, after learning of her death, were the most +thrilling and absorbing moments of my life. In those forty minutes, +involved as I was in a most dangerous plight, I calmly studied the scene +of the murder and reached the conclusion that the crime must have been +committed by one of the house servants. I also decided that, in order +to get the pearl, that servant must be arrested, and so I left the +wainscoat button; it was necessary, also, for me to hold some convincing +evidence of his guilt, so I carried away the knife which I found upon +the floor, and the key which I found in the lock. I closed and +locked the door, and erased the finger-marks from the plaster in the +wardrobe-closet. In my opinion, that was one of those flashes--” + +“Of genius,” I said, interrupting. + +“Of genius, if you wish. But, I flatter myself, it would not have +occurred to the average mortal. To frame, instantly, the two elements of +the problem--an arrest and an acquittal; to make use of the formidable +machinery of the law to crush and humble my victim, and reduce him to a +condition in which, when free, he would be certain to fall into the trap +I was laying for him!” + +“Poor devil--” + +“Poor devil, do you say? Victor Danègre, the assassin! He might have +descended to the lowest depths of vice and crime, if he had retained the +black pearl. Now, he lives! Think of that: Victor Danègre is alive!” + +“And you have the black pearl.” + +He took it out of one of the secret pockets of his wallet, examined it, +gazed at it tenderly, and caressed it with loving fingers, and sighed, +as he said: + +“What cold Russian prince, what vain and foolish rajah may some day +possess this priceless treasure! Or, perhaps, some American millionaire +is destined to become the owner of this morsel of exquisite beauty that +once adorned the fair bosom of Leontine Zalti, the Countess d’Andillot.” + + + + +IX. Sherlock Holmes Arrives Too Late + + +“It is really remarkable, Velmont, what a close resemblance you bear to +Arsène Lupin!” + +“How do you know?” + +“Oh! like everyone else, from photographs, no two of which are alike, +but each of them leaves the impression of a face.... something like +yours.” + +Horace Velmont displayed some vexation. + +“Quite so, my dear Devanne. And, believe me, you are not the first one +who has noticed it.” + +“It is so striking,” persisted Devanne, “that if you had not been +recommended to me by my cousin d’Estevan, and if you were not the +celebrated artist whose beautiful marine views I so admire, I have no +doubt I should have warned the police of your presence in Dieppe.” + +This sally was greeted with an outburst of laughter. The large +dining-hall of the Château de Thibermesnil contained on this occasion, +besides Velmont, the following guests: Father Gélis, the parish priest, +and a dozen officers whose regiments were quartered in the vicinity and +who had accepted the invitation of the banker Georges Devanne and his +mother. One of the officers then remarked: + +“I understand that an exact description of Arsène Lupin has been +furnished to all the police along this coast since his daring exploit on +the Paris-Havre express.” + +“I suppose so,” said Devanne. “That was three months ago; and a week +later, I made the acquaintance of our friend Velmont at the casino, and, +since then, he has honored me with several visits--an agreeable preamble +to a more serious visit that he will pay me one of these days--or, +rather, one of these nights.” + +This speech evoked another round of laughter, and the guests then passed +into the ancient “Hall of the Guards,” a vast room with a high ceiling, +which occupied the entire lower part of the Tour Guillaume--William’s +Tower--and wherein Georges Devanne had collected the incomparable +treasures which the lords of Thibermesnil had accumulated through +many centuries. It contained ancient chests, credences, andirons and +chandeliers. The stone walls were overhung with magnificent tapestries. +The deep embrasures of the four windows were furnished with benches, and +the Gothic windows were composed of small panes of colored glass set +in a leaden frame. Between the door and the window to the left stood +an immense bookcase of Renaissance style, on the pediment of which, in +letters of gold, was the word “Thibermesnil,” and, below it, the proud +family device: “Fais ce que veulx” (Do what thou wishest). When the +guests had lighted their cigars, Devanne resumed the conversation. + +“And remember, Velmont, you have no time to lose; in fact, to-night is +the last chance you will have.” + +“How so?” asked the painter, who appeared to regard the affair as a +joke. Devanne was about to reply, when his mother mentioned to him to +keep silent, but the excitement of the occasion and a desire to interest +his guests urged him to speak. + +“Bah!” he murmured. “I can tell it now. It won’t do any harm.” + +The guests drew closer, and he commenced to speak with the satisfied air +of a man who has an important announcement to make. + +“To-morrow afternoon at four o’clock, Sherlock Holmes, the famous +English detective, for whom such a thing as mystery does not exist; +Sherlock Holmes, the most remarkable solver of enigmas the world has +ever known, that marvelous man who would seem to be the creation of a +romantic novelist--Sherlock Holmes will be my guest!” + +Immediately, Devanne was the target of numerous eager questions. “Is +Sherlock Holmes really coming?” “Is it so serious as that?” “Is Arsène +Lupin really in this neighborhood?” + +“Arsène Lupin and his band are not far away. Besides the robbery of the +Baron Cahorn, he is credited with the thefts at Montigny, Gruchet and +Crasville. And now it is my turn.” + +“Has he sent you a warning, as he did to Baron Cahorn?” + +“No,” replied Devanne, “he can’t work the same trick twice.” + +“What then?” + +“I will show you.” + +He rose, and pointing to a small empty space between the two enormous +folios on one of the shelves of the bookcase, he said: + +“There used to be a book there--a book of the sixteenth century entitled +‘Chronique de Thibermesnil,’ which contained the history of the castle +since its construction by Duke Rollo on the site of a former feudal +fortress. There were three engraved plates in the book; one of which was +a general view of the whole estate; another, the plan of the buildings; +and the third--I call your attention to it, particularly--the third was +the sketch of a subterranean passage, an entrance to which is outside +the first line of ramparts, while the other end of the passage is here, +in this very room. Well, that book disappeared a month ago.” + +“The deuce!” said Velmont, “that looks bad. But it doesn’t seem to be a +sufficient reason for sending for Sherlock Holmes.” + +“Certainly, that was not sufficient in itself, but another incident +happened that gives the disappearance of the book a special +significance. There was another copy of this book in the National +Library at Paris, and the two books differed in certain details relating +to the subterranean passage; for instance, each of them contained +drawings and annotations, not printed, but written in ink and more or +less effaced. I knew those facts, and I knew that the exact location of +the passage could be determined only by a comparison of the two books. +Now, the day after my book disappeared, the book was called for in the +National Library by a reader who carried it away, and no one knows how +the theft was effected.” + +The guests uttered many exclamations of surprise. + +“Certainly, the affair looks serious,” said one. + +“Well, the police investigated the matter, and, as usual, discovered no +clue whatever.” + +“They never do, when Arsène Lupin is concerned in it.” + +“Exactly; and so I decided to ask the assistance of Sherlock Holmes, +who replied that he was ready and anxious to enter the lists with Arsène +Lupin.” + +“What glory for Arsène Lupin!” said Velmont. “But if our national thief, +as they call him, has no evil designs on your castle, Sherlock Holmes +will have his trip in vain.” + +“There are other things that will interest him, such as the discovery of +the subterranean passage.” + +“But you told us that one end of the passage was outside the ramparts +and the other was in this very room!” + +“Yes, but in what part of the room? The line which represents the +passage on the charts ends here, with a small circle marked with the +letters ‘T.G.,’ which no doubt stand for ‘Tour Guillaume.’ But the tower +is round, and who can tell the exact spot at which the passage touches +the tower?” + +Devanne lighted a second cigar and poured himself a glass of +Benedictine. His guests pressed him with questions and he was pleased to +observe the interest that his remarks had created. Then he continued: + +“The secret is lost. No one knows it. The legend is to the effect that +the former lords of the castle transmitted the secret from father to son +on their deathbeds, until Geoffroy, the last of the race, was beheaded +during the Revolution in his nineteenth year.” + +“That is over a century ago. Surely, someone has looked for it since +that time?” + +“Yes, but they failed to find it. After I purchased the castle, I made a +diligent search for it, but without success. You must remember that this +tower is surrounded by water and connected with the castle only by a +bridge; consequently, the passage must be underneath the old moat. The +plan that was in the book in the National Library showed a series of +stairs with a total of forty-eight steps, which indicates a depth of +more than ten meters. You see, the mystery lies within the walls of this +room, and yet I dislike to tear them down.” + +“Is there nothing to show where it is?” + +“Nothing.” + +“Mon. Devanne, we should turn our attention to the two quotations,” + suggested Father Gélis. + +“Oh!” exclaimed Mon. Devanne, laughing, “our worthy father is fond +of reading memoirs and delving into the musty archives of the castle. +Everything relating to Thibermesnil interests him greatly. But the +quotations that he mentions only serve to complicate the mystery. He +has read somewhere that two kings of France have known the key to the +puzzle.” + +“Two kings of France! Who were they?” + +“Henry the Fourth and Louis the Sixteenth. And the legend runs like +this: On the eve of the battle of Arques, Henry the Fourth spent the +night in this castle. At eleven o’clock in the evening, Louise de +Tancarville, the prettiest woman in Normandy, was brought into the +castle through the subterranean passage by Duke Edgard, who, at the +same time, informed the king of the secret passage. Afterward, the king +confided the secret to his minister Sully, who, in turn, relates the +story in his book, “Royales Economies d’Etat,” without making any +comment upon it, but linking with it this incomprehensible sentence: +‘Turn one eye on the bee that shakes, the other eye will lead to God!’” + +After a brief silence, Velmont laughed and said: + +“Certainly, it doesn’t throw a dazzling light upon the subject.” + +“No; but Father Gélis claims that Sully concealed the key to the +mystery in this strange sentence in order to keep the secret from the +secretaries to whom he dictated his memoirs.” + +“That is an ingenious theory,” said Velmont. + +“Yes, and it may be nothing more; I cannot see that it throws any light +on the mysterious riddle.” + +“And was it also to receive the visit of a lady that Louis the Sixteenth +caused the passage to be opened?” + +“I don’t know,” said Mon. Devanne. “All I can say is that the king +stopped here one night in 1784, and that the famous Iron Casket found +in the Louvre contained a paper bearing these words in the king’s own +writing: ‘Thibermesnil 3-4-11.’” + +Horace Velmont laughed heartily, and exclaimed: + +“At last! And now that we have the magic key, where is the man who can +fit it to the invisible lock?” + +“Laugh as much as you please, monsieur,” said Father Gélis, “but I am +confident the solution is contained in those two sentences, and some day +we will find a man able to interpret them.” + +“Sherlock Holmes is the man,” said Mon. Devanne, “unless Arsène Lupin +gets ahead of him. What is your opinion, Velmont?” + +Velmont arose, placed his hand on Devanne’s shoulder, and declared: + +“I think that the information furnished by your book and the book of the +National Library was deficient in a very important detail which you have +now supplied. I thank you for it.” + +“What is it?” + +“The missing key. Now that I have it, I can go to work at once,” said +Velmont. + +“Of course; without losing a minute,” said Devanne, smiling. + +“Not even a second!” replied Velmont. “To-night, before the arrival of +Sherlock Holmes, I must plunder your castle.” + +“You have no time to lose. Oh! by the way, I can drive you over this +evening.” + +“To Dieppe?” + +“Yes. I am going to meet Monsieur and Madame d’Androl and a young lady +of their acquaintance who are to arrive by the midnight train.” + +Then addressing the officers, Devanne added: + +“Gentlemen, I shall expect to see all of you at breakfast to-morrow.” + +The invitation was accepted. The company dispersed, and a few moments +later Devanne and Velmont were speeding toward Dieppe in an automobile. +Devanne dropped the artist in front of the Casino, and proceeded to the +railway station. At twelve o’clock his friends alighted from the train. +A half hour later the automobile was at the entrance to the castle. +At one o’clock, after a light supper, they retired. The lights were +extinguished, and the castle was enveloped in the darkness and silence +of the night. + +* * * * * + +The moon appeared through a rift in the clouds, and filled the +drawing-room with its bright white light. But only for a moment. Then +the moon again retired behind its ethereal draperies, and darkness and +silence reigned supreme. No sound could be heard, save the monotonous +ticking of the clock. It struck two, and then continued its endless +repetitions of the seconds. Then, three o’clock. + +Suddenly, something clicked, like the opening and closing of a +signal-disc that warns the passing train. A thin stream of light flashed +to every corner of the room, like an arrow that leaves behind it a +trail of light. It shot forth from the central fluting of a column that +supported the pediment of the bookcase. It rested for a moment on +the panel opposite like a glittering circle of burnished silver, then +flashed in all directions like a guilty eye that scrutinizes every +shadow. It disappeared for a short time, but burst forth again as a +whole section of the bookcase revolved on a pivot and disclosed a large +opening like a vault. + +A man entered, carrying an electric lantern. He was followed by a second +man, who carried a coil of rope and various tools. The leader inspected +the room, listened a moment, and said: + +“Call the others.” + +Then eight men, stout fellows with resolute faces, entered the room, +and immediately commenced to remove the furnishings. Arsène Lupin passed +quickly from one piece of furniture to another, examined each, and, +according to its size or artistic value, he directed his men to take it +or leave it. If ordered to be taken, it was carried to the gaping mouth +of the tunnel, and ruthlessly thrust into the bowels of the earth. Such +was the fate of six armchairs, six small Louis XV chairs, a quantity +of Aubusson tapestries, some candelabra, paintings by Fragonard and +Nattier, a bust by Houdon, and some statuettes. Sometimes, Lupin would +linger before a beautiful chest or a superb picture, and sigh: + +“That is too heavy.... too large.... what a pity!” + +In forty minutes the room was dismantled; and it had been accomplished +in such an orderly manner and with as little noise as if the various +articles had been packed and wadded for the occasion. + +Lupin said to the last man who departed by way of the tunnel: + +“You need not come back. You understand, that as soon as the auto-van is +loaded, you are to proceed to the grange at Roquefort.” + +“But you, patron?” + +“Leave me the motor-cycle.” + +When the man had disappeared, Arsène Lupin pushed the section of the +bookcase back into its place, carefully effaced the traces of the men’s +footsteps, raised a portière, and entered a gallery, which was the only +means of communication between the tower and the castle. In the center +of this gallery there was a glass cabinet which had attracted Lupin’s +attentions. It contained a valuable collection of watches, snuff-boxes, +rings, chatelaines and miniatures of rare and beautiful workmanship. He +forced the lock with a small jimmy, and experienced a great pleasure in +handling those gold and silver ornaments, those exquisite and delicate +works of art. + +He carried a large linen bag, specially prepared for the removal of +such knick-knacks. He filled it. Then he filled the pockets of his coat, +waistcoat and trousers. And he was just placing over his left arm a +number of pearl reticules when he heard a slight sound. He listened. No, +he was not deceived. The noise continued. Then he remembered that, at +one end of the gallery, there was a stairway leading to an unoccupied +apartment, but which was probably occupied that night by the young lady +whom Mon. Devanne had brought from Dieppe with his other visitors. + +Immediately he extinguished his lantern, and had scarcely gained the +friendly shelter of a window-embrasure, when the door at the top of the +stairway was opened and a feeble light illuminated the gallery. He could +feel--for, concealed by a curtain, he could not see--that a woman was +cautiously descending the upper steps of the stairs. He hoped she would +come no closer. Yet, she continued to descend, and even advanced some +distance into the room. Then she uttered a faint cry. No doubt she had +discovered the broken and dismantled cabinet. + +She advanced again. Now he could smell the perfume, and hear the +throbbing of her heart as she drew closer to the window where he was +concealed. She passed so close that her skirt brushed against the +window-curtain, and Lupin felt that she suspected the presence of +another, behind her, in the shadow, within reach of her hand. He +thought: “She is afraid. She will go away.” But she did not go. The +candle, that she carried in her trembling hand, grew brighter. She +turned, hesitated a moment, appeared to listen, then suddenly drew aside +the curtain. + +They stood face to face. Arsène was astounded. He murmured, +involuntarily: + +“You--you--mademoiselle.” + +It was Miss Nelly. Miss Nelly! his fellow passenger on the transatlantic +steamer, who had been the subject of his dreams on that memorable +voyage, who had been a witness to his arrest, and who, rather than +betray him, had dropped into the water the Kodak in which he had +concealed the bank-notes and diamonds. Miss Nelly! that charming +creature, the memory of whose face had sometimes cheered, sometimes +saddened the long hours of imprisonment. + +It was such an unexpected encounter that brought them face to face in +that castle at that hour of the night, that they could not move, +nor utter a word; they were amazed, hypnotized, each at the sudden +apparition of the other. Trembling with emotion, Miss Nelly staggered to +a seat. He remained standing in front of her. + +Gradually, he realized the situation and conceived the impression he +must have produced at that moment with his arms laden with knick-knacks, +and his pockets and a linen sack overflowing with plunder. He was +overcome with confusion, and he actually blushed to find himself in +the position of a thief caught in the act. To her, henceforth, he was +a thief, a man who puts his hand in another’s pocket, who steals into +houses and robs people while they sleep. + +A watch fell upon the floor; then another. These were followed by other +articles which slipped from his grasp one by one. Then, actuated by a +sudden decision, he dropped the other articles into an armchair, emptied +his pockets and unpacked his sack. He felt very uncomfortable in Nelly’s +presence, and stepped toward her with the intention of speaking to her, +but she shuddered, rose quickly and fled toward the salon. The portière +closed behind her. He followed her. She was standing trembling and +amazed at the sight of the devastated room. He said to her, at once: + +“To-morrow, at three o’clock, everything will be returned. The furniture +will be brought back.” + +She made no reply, so he repeated: + +“I promise it. To-morrow, at three o’clock. Nothing in the world could +induce me to break that promise....To-morrow, at three o’clock.” + +Then followed a long silence that he dared not break, whilst the +agitation of the young girl caused him a feeling of genuine regret. +Quietly, without a word, he turned away, thinking: “I hope she will go +away. I can’t endure her presence.” But the young girl suddenly spoke, +and stammered: + +“Listen.... footsteps....I hear someone....” + +He looked at her with astonishment. She seemed to be overwhelmed by the +thought of approaching peril. + +“I don’t hear anything,” he said. + +“But you must go--you must escape!” + +“Why should I go?” + +“Because--you must. Oh! do not remain here another minute. Go!” + +She ran, quickly, to the door leading to the gallery and listened. No, +there was no one there. Perhaps the noise was outside. She waited a +moment, then returned reassured. + +But Arsène Lupin had disappeared. + +* * * * * + +As soon as Mon. Devanne was informed of the pillage of his castle, he +said to himself: It was Velmont who did it, and Velmont is Arsène Lupin. +That theory explained everything, and there was no other plausible +explanation. And yet the idea seemed preposterous. It was ridiculous to +suppose that Velmont was anyone else than Velmont, the famous artist, +and club-fellow of his cousin d’Estevan. So, when the captain of the +gendarmes arrived to investigate the affair, Devanne did not even think +of mentioning his absurd theory. + +Throughout the forenoon there was a lively commotion at the castle. +The gendarmes, the local police, the chief of police from Dieppe, the +villagers, all circulated to and fro in the halls, examining every +nook and corner that was open to their inspection. The approach of the +maneuvering troops, the rattling fire of the musketry, added to the +picturesque character of the scene. + +The preliminary search furnished no clue. Neither the doors nor windows +showed any signs of having been disturbed. Consequently, the removal of +the goods must have been effected by means of the secret passage. Yet, +there were no indications of footsteps on the floor, nor any unusual +marks upon the walls. + +Their investigations revealed, however, one curious fact that denoted +the whimsical character of Arsène Lupin: the famous Chronique of the +sixteenth century had been restored to its accustomed place in the +library and, beside it, there was a similar book, which was none other +than the volume stolen from the National Library. + +At eleven o’clock the military officers arrived. Devanne welcomed them +with his usual gayety; for, no matter how much chagrin he might suffer +from the loss of his artistic treasures, his great wealth enabled him to +bear his loss philosophically. His guests, Monsieur and Madame d’Androl +and Miss Nelly, were introduced; and it was then noticed that one of the +expected guests had not arrived. It was Horace Velmont. Would he come? +His absence had awakened the suspicions of Mon. Devanne. But at twelve +o’clock he arrived. Devanne exclaimed: + +“Ah! here you are!” + +“Why, am I not punctual?” asked Velmont. + +“Yes, and I am surprised that you are.... after such a busy night! I +suppose you know the news?” + +“What news?” + +“You have robbed the castle.” + +“Nonsense!” exclaimed Velmont, smiling. + +“Exactly as I predicted. But, first escort Miss Underdown to the +dining-room. Mademoiselle, allow me--” + +He stopped, as he remarked the extreme agitation of the young girl. +Then, recalling the incident, he said: + +“Ah! of course, you met Arsène Lupin on the steamer, before his arrest, +and you are astonished at the resemblance. Is that it?” + +She did not reply. Velmont stood before her, smiling. He bowed. She +took his proffered arm. He escorted her to her place, and took his seat +opposite her. During the breakfast, the conversation related exclusively +to Arsène Lupin, the stolen goods, the secret passage, and Sherlock +Holmes. It was only at the close of the repast, when the conversation +had drifted to other subjects, that Velmont took any part in it. Then +he was, by turns, amusing and grave, talkative and pensive. And all +his remarks seemed to be directed to the young girl. But she, quite +absorbed, did not appear to hear them. + +Coffee was served on the terrace overlooking the court of honor and +the flower garden in front of the principal façade. The regimental band +played on the lawn, and scores of soldiers and peasants wandered through +the park. + +Miss Nelly had not forgotten, for one moment, Lupin’s solemn promise: +“To-morrow, at three o’clock, everything will be returned.” + +At three o’clock! And the hands of the great clock in the right wing of +the castle now marked twenty minutes to three. In spite of herself, her +eyes wandered to the clock every minute. She also watched Velmont, who +was calmly swinging to and fro in a comfortable rocking chair. + +Ten minutes to three!....Five minutes to three!....Nelly was impatient +and anxious. Was it possible that Arsène Lupin would carry out his +promise at the appointed hour, when the castle, the courtyard, and the +park were filled with people, and at the very moment when the officers +of the law were pursuing their investigations? And yet....Arsène Lupin +had given her his solemn promise. “It will be exactly as he said,” + thought she, so deeply was she impressed with the authority, energy and +assurance of that remarkable man. To her, it no longer assumed the form +of a miracle, but, on the contrary, a natural incident that must occur +in the ordinary course of events. She blushed, and turned her head. + +Three o’clock! The great clock struck slowly: +one.... two.... three....Horace Velmont took out his watch, glanced at the +clock, then returned the watch to his pocket. A few seconds passed in +silence; and then the crowd in the courtyard parted to give passage +to two wagons, that had just entered the park-gate, each drawn by two +horses. They were army-wagons, such as are used for the transportation +of provisions, tents, and other necessary military stores. They stopped +in front of the main entrance, and a commissary-sergeant leaped from +one of the wagons and inquired for Mon. Devanne. A moment later, that +gentleman emerged from the house, descended the steps, and, under +the canvas covers of the wagons, beheld his furniture, pictures and +ornaments carefully packaged and arranged. + +When questioned, the sergeant produced an order that he had received +from the officer of the day. By that order, the second company of the +fourth battalion were commanded to proceed to the crossroads of Halleux +in the forest of Arques, gather up the furniture and other articles +deposited there, and deliver same to Monsieur Georges Devanne, owner of +the Thibermesnil castle, at three o’clock. Signed: Col. Beauvel. + +“At the crossroads,” explained the sergeant, “we found everything ready, +lying on the grass, guarded by some passers-by. It seemed very strange, +but the order was imperative.” + +One of the officers examined the signature. He declared it a forgery; +but a clever imitation. The wagons were unloaded, and the goods restored +to their proper places in the castle. + +During this commotion, Nelly had remained alone at the extreme end of +the terrace, absorbed by confused and distracted thoughts. Suddenly, she +observed Velmont approaching her. She would have avoided him, but the +balustrade that surrounded the terrace cut off her retreat. She was +cornered. She could not move. A gleam of sunshine, passing through the +scant foliage of a bamboo, lighted up her beautiful golden hair. Some +one spoke to her in a low voice: + +“Have I not kept my promise?” + +Arsène Lupin stood close to her. No one else was near. He repeated, in a +calm, soft voice: + +“Have I not kept my promise?” + +He expected a word of thanks, or at least some slight movement that +would betray her interest in the fulfillment of his promise. But she +remained silent. + +Her scornful attitude annoyed Arsène Lupin; and he realized the vast +distance that separated him from Miss Nelly, now that she had learned +the truth. He would gladly have justified himself in her eyes, or at +least pleaded extenuating circumstances, but he perceived the absurdity +and futility of such an attempt. Finally, dominated by a surging flood +of memories, he murmured: + +“Ah! how long ago that was! You remember the long hours on the deck of +the ‘Provence.’ Then, you carried a rose in your hand, a white rose like +the one you carry to-day. I asked you for it. You pretended you did +not hear me. After you had gone away, I found the rose--forgotten, no +doubt--and I kept it.” + +She made no reply. She seemed to be far away. He continued: + +“In memory of those happy hours, forget what you have learned since. +Separate the past from the present. Do not regard me as the man you saw +last night, but look at me, if only for a moment, as you did in those +far-off days when I was Bernard d’Andrezy, for a short time. Will you, +please?” + +She raised her eyes and looked at him as he had requested. Then, without +saying a word, she pointed to a ring he was wearing on his forefinger. +Only the ring was visible; but the setting, which was turned toward the +palm of his hand, consisted of a magnificent ruby. Arsène Lupin blushed. +The ring belonged to Georges Devanne. He smiled bitterly, and said: + +“You are right. Nothing can be changed. Arsène Lupin is now and always +will be Arsène Lupin. To you, he cannot be even so much as a memory. +Pardon me....I should have known that any attention I may now offer you +is simply an insult. Forgive me.” + +He stepped aside, hat in hand. Nelly passed before him. He was inclined +to detain her and beseech her forgiveness. But his courage failed, and +he contented himself by following her with his eyes, as he had done when +she descended the gangway to the pier at New York. She mounted the steps +leading to the door, and disappeared within the house. He saw her no +more. + +A cloud obscured the sun. Arsène Lupin stood watching the imprints of +her tiny feet in the sand. Suddenly, he gave a start. Upon the box which +contained the bamboo, beside which Nelly had been standing, he saw +the rose, the white rose which he had desired but dared not ask +for. Forgotten, no doubt--it, also! But how--designedly or through +distraction? He seized it eagerly. Some of its petals fell to the +ground. He picked them up, one by one, like precious relics. + +“Come!” he said to himself, “I have nothing more to do here. I must +think of my safety, before Sherlock Holmes arrives.” + +* * * * * + +The park was deserted, but some gendarmes were stationed at the +park-gate. He entered a grove of pine trees, leaped over the wall, +and, as a short cut to the railroad station, followed a path across the +fields. After walking about ten minutes, he arrived at a spot where the +road grew narrower and ran between two steep banks. In this ravine, he +met a man traveling in the opposite direction. It was a man about fifty +years of age, tall, smooth-shaven, and wearing clothes of a foreign cut. +He carried a heavy cane, and a small satchel was strapped across his +shoulder. When they met, the stranger spoke, with a slight English +accent: + +“Excuse me, monsieur, is this the way to the castle?” + +“Yes, monsieur, straight ahead, and turn to the left when you come to +the wall. They are expecting you.” + +“Ah!” + +“Yes, my friend Devanne told us last night that you were coming, and I +am delighted to be the first to welcome you. Sherlock Holmes has no more +ardent admirer than.... myself.” + +There was a touch of irony in his voice that he quickly regretted, for +Sherlock Holmes scrutinized him from head to foot with such a keen, +penetrating eye that Arsène Lupin experienced the sensation of being +seized, imprisoned and registered by that look more thoroughly and +precisely than he had ever been by a camera. + +“My negative is taken now,” he thought, “and it will be useless to use +a disguise with that man. He would look right through it. But, I wonder, +has he recognized me?” + +They bowed to each other as if about to part. But, at that moment, they +heard a sound of horses’ feet, accompanied by a clinking of steel. It +was the gendarmes. The two men were obliged to draw back against the +embankment, amongst the brushes, to avoid the horses. The gendarmes +passed by, but, as they followed each other at a considerable distance, +they were several minutes in doing so. And Lupin was thinking: + +“It all depends on that question: has he recognized me? If so, he will +probably take advantage of the opportunity. It is a trying situation.” + +When the last horseman had passed, Sherlock Holmes stepped forth and +brushed the dust from his clothes. Then, for a moment, he and Arsène +Lupin gazed at each other; and, if a person could have seen them at that +moment, it would have been an interesting sight, and memorable as the +first meeting of two remarkable men, so strange, so powerfully equipped, +both of superior quality, and destined by fate, through their peculiar +attributes, to hurl themselves one at the other like two equal forces +that nature opposes, one against the other, in the realms of space. + +Then the Englishman said: “Thank you, monsieur.” + +“You are quite welcome,” replied Arsène Lupin. + +They parted. Lupin went toward the railway station, and Sherlock Holmes +continued on his way to the castle. + +The local officers had given up the investigation after several hours +of fruitless efforts, and the people at the castle were awaiting the +arrival of the English detective with a lively curiosity. At first +sight, they were a little disappointed on account of his commonplace +appearance, which differed so greatly from the pictures they had formed +of him in their own minds. He did not in any way resemble the romantic +hero, the mysterious and diabolical personage that the name of Sherlock +Holmes had evoked in their imaginations. However, Mon. Devanne exclaimed +with much gusto: + +“Ah! monsieur, you are here! I am delighted to see you. It is a +long-deferred pleasure. Really, I scarcely regret what has happened, +since it affords me the opportunity to meet you. But, how did you come?” + +“By the train.” + +“But I sent my automobile to meet you at the station.” + +“An official reception, eh? with music and fireworks! Oh! no, not for +me. That is not the way I do business,” grumbled the Englishman. + +This speech disconcerted Devanne, who replied, with a forced smile: + +“Fortunately, the business has been greatly simplified since I wrote to +you.” + +“In what way?” + +“The robbery took place last night.” + +“If you had not announced my intended visit, it is probable the robbery +would not have been committed last night.” + +“When, then?” + +“To-morrow, or some other day.” + +“And in that case?” + +“Lupin would have been trapped,” said the detective. + +“And my furniture?” + +“Would not have been carried away.” + +“Ah! but my goods are here. They were brought back at three o’clock.” + +“By Lupin.” + +“By two army-wagons.” + +Sherlock Holmes put on his cap and adjusted his satchel. Devanne +exclaimed, anxiously: + +“But, monsieur, what are you going to do?” + +“I am going home.” + +“Why?” + +“Your goods have been returned; Arsène Lupin is far away--there is +nothing for me to do.” + +“Yes, there is. I need your assistance. What happened yesterday, may +happen again to-morrow, as we do not know how he entered, or how he +escaped, or why, a few hours later, he returned the goods.” + +“Ah! you don’t know--” + +The idea of a problem to be solved quickened the interest of Sherlock +Holmes. + +“Very well, let us make a search--at once--and alone, if possible.” + +Devanne understood, and conducted the Englishman to the salon. In a dry, +crisp voice, in sentences that seemed to have been prepared in advance, +Holmes asked a number of questions about the events of the preceding +evening, and enquired also concerning the guests and the members of the +household. Then he examined the two volumes of the “Chronique,” compared +the plans of the subterranean passage, requested a repetition of the +sentences discovered by Father Gélis, and then asked: + +“Was yesterday the first time you have spoken those two sentences to any +one?” + +“Yes.” + +“You had never communicated then to Horace Velmont?” + +“No.” + +“Well, order the automobile. I must leave in an hour.” + +“In an hour?” + +“Yes; within that time, Arsène Lupin solved the problem that you placed +before him.” + +“I.... placed before him--” + +“Yes, Arsène Lupin or Horace Velmont--same thing.” + +“I thought so. Ah! the scoundrel!” + +“Now, let us see,” said Holmes, “last night at ten o’clock, you +furnished Lupin with the information that he lacked, and that he had +been seeking for many weeks. During the night, he found time to solve +the problem, collect his men, and rob the castle. I shall be quite as +expeditious.” + +He walked from end to end of the room, in deep thought, then sat down, +crossed his long legs and closed his eyes. + +Devanne waited, quite embarrassed. Thought he: “Is the man asleep? Or is +he only meditating?” However, he left the room to give some orders, and +when he returned he found the detective on his knees scrutinizing the +carpet at the foot of the stairs in the gallery. + +“What is it?” he enquired. + +“Look.... there.... spots from a candle.” + +“You are right--and quite fresh.” + +“And you will also find them at the top of the stairs, and around +the cabinet that Arsène Lupin broke into, and from which he took the +bibelots that he afterward placed in this armchair.” + +“What do you conclude from that?” + +“Nothing. These facts would doubtless explain the cause for the +restitution, but that is a side issue that I cannot wait to investigate. +The main question is the secret passage. First, tell me, is there a +chapel some two or three hundred metres from the castle?” + +“Yes, a ruined chapel, containing the tomb of Duke Rollo.” + +“Tell your chauffer to wait for us near that chapel.” + +“My chauffer hasn’t returned. If he had, they would have informed me. Do +you think the secret passage runs to the chapel? What reason have--” + +“I would ask you, monsieur,” interrupted the detective, “to furnish me +with a ladder and a lantern.” + +“What! do you require a ladder and a lantern?” + +“Certainly, or I shouldn’t have asked for them.” + +Devanne, somewhat disconcerted by this crude logic, rang the bell. The +two articles were given with the sternness and precision of military +commands. + +“Place the ladder against the bookcase, to the left of the word +Thibermesnil.” + +Devanne placed the ladder as directed, and the Englishman continued: + +“More to the left.... to the right....There!....Now, climb up.... All the +letters are in relief, aren’t they?” + +“Yes.” + +“First, turn the letter I one way or the other.” + +“Which one? There are two of them.” + +“The first one.” + +Devanne took hold of the letter, and exclaimed: + +“Ah! yes, it turns toward the right. Who told you that?” + +Sherlock Holmes did not reply to the question, but continued his +directions: + +“Now, take the letter B. Move it back and forth as you would a bolt.” + +Devanne did so, and, to his great surprise, it produced a clicking +sound. + +“Quite right,” said Holmes. “Now, we will go to the other end of the +word Thibermesnil, try the letter I, and see if it will open like a +wicket.” + +With a certain degree of solemnity, Devanne seized the letter. It +opened, but Devanne fell from the ladder, for the entire section of the +bookcase, lying between the first and last letters of the words, turned +on a pivot and disclosed the subterranean passage. + +Sherlock Holmes said, coolly: + +“You are not hurt?” + +“No, no,” said Devanne, as he rose to his feet, “not hurt, only +bewildered. I can’t understand now.... those letters turn.... the secret +passage opens....” + +“Certainly. Doesn’t that agree exactly with the formula given by Sully? +Turn one eye on the bee that shakes, the other eye will lead to God.” + +“But Louis the sixteenth?” asked Devanne. + +“Louis the sixteenth was a clever locksmith. I have read a book he wrote +about combination locks. It was a good idea on the part of the owner of +Thibermesnil to show His Majesty a clever bit of mechanism. As an aid +to his memory, the king wrote: 3-4-11, that is to say, the third, fourth +and eleventh letters of the word.” + +“Exactly. I understand that. It explains how Lupin got out of the room, +but it does not explain how he entered. And it is certain he came from +the outside.” + +Sherlock Holmes lighted his lantern, and stepped into the passage. + +“Look! All the mechanism is exposed here, like the works of a clock, +and the reverse side of the letters can be reached. Lupin worked the +combination from this side--that is all.” + +“What proof is there of that?” + +“Proof? Why, look at that puddle of oil. Lupin foresaw that the wheels +would require oiling.” + +“Did he know about the other entrance?” + +“As well as I know it,” said Holmes. “Follow me.” + +“Into that dark passage?” + +“Are you afraid?” + +“No, but are you sure you can find the way out?” + +“With my eyes closed.” + +At first, they descended twelve steps, then twelve more, and, farther +on, two other flights of twelve steps each. Then they walked through a +long passageway, the brick walls of which showed the marks of successive +restorations, and, in spots, were dripping with water. The earth, also, +was very damp. + +“We are passing under the pond,” said Devanne, somewhat nervously. + +At last, they came to a stairway of twelve steps, followed by three +others of twelve steps each, which they mounted with difficulty, and +then found themselves in a small cavity cut in the rock. They could go +no further. + +“The deuce!” muttered Holmes, “nothing but bare walls. This is +provoking.” + +“Let us go back,” said Devanne. “I have seen enough to satisfy me.” + +But the Englishman raised his eye and uttered a sigh of relief. There, +he saw the same mechanism and the same word as before. He had merely to +work the three letters. He did so, and a block of granite swung out of +place. On the other side, this granite block formed the tombstone of +Duke Rollo, and the word “Thibermesnil” was engraved on it in relief. +Now, they were in the little ruined chapel, and the detective said: + +“The other eye leads to God; that means, to the chapel.” + +“It is marvelous!” exclaimed Devanne, amazed at the clairvoyance and +vivacity of the Englishman. “Can it be possible that those few words +were sufficient for you?” + +“Bah!” declared Holmes, “they weren’t even necessary. In the chart in +the book of the National Library, the drawing terminates at the left, as +you know, in a circle, and at the right, as you do not know, in a cross. +Now, that cross must refer to the chapel in which we now stand.” + +Poor Devanne could not believe his ears. It was all so new, so novel to +him. He exclaimed: + +“It is incredible, miraculous, and yet of a childish simplicity! How is +it that no one has ever solved the mystery?” + +“Because no one has ever united the essential elements, that is to +say, the two books and the two sentences. No one, but Arsène Lupin and +myself.” + +“But, Father Gélis and I knew all about those things, and, likewise--” + +Holmes smiled, and said: + +“Monsieur Devanne, everybody cannot solve riddles.” + +“I have been trying for ten years to accomplish what you did in ten +minutes.” + +“Bah! I am used to it.” + +They emerged from the chapel, and found an automobile. + +“Ah! there’s an auto waiting for us.” + +“Yes, it is mine,” said Devanne. + +“Yours? You said your chauffeur hadn’t returned.” + +They approached the machine, and Mon. Devanne questioned the chauffer: + +“Edouard, who gave you orders to come here?” + +“Why, it was Monsieur Velmont.” + +“Mon. Velmont? Did you meet him?” + +“Near the railway station, and he told me to come to the chapel.” + +“To come to the chapel! What for?” + +“To wait for you, monsieur, and your friend.” + +Devanne and Holmes exchanged looks, and Mon. Devanne said: + +“He knew the mystery would be a simple one for you. It is a delicate +compliment.” + +A smile of satisfaction lighted up the detective’s serious features for +a moment. The compliment pleased him. He shook his head, as he said: + +“A clever man! I knew that when I saw him.” + +“Have you seen him?” + +“I met him a short time ago--on my way from the station.” + +“And you knew it was Horace Velmont--I mean, Arsène Lupin?” + +“That is right. I wonder how it came--” + +“No, but I supposed it was--from a certain ironical speech he made.” + +“And you allowed him to escape?” + +“Of course I did. And yet I had everything on my side, such as five +gendarmes who passed us.” + +“Sacrableu!” cried Devanne. “You should have taken advantage of the +opportunity.” + +“Really, monsieur,” said the Englishman, haughtily, “when I encounter +an adversary like Arsène Lupin, I do not take advantage of chance +opportunities, I create them.” + +But time pressed, and since Lupin had been so kind as to send the +automobile, they resolved to profit by it. They seated themselves in +the comfortable limousine; Edouard took his place at the wheel, and away +they went toward the railway station. Suddenly, Devanne’s eyes fell upon +a small package in one of the pockets of the carriage. + +“Ah! what is that? A package! Whose is it? Why, it is for you.” + +“For me?” + +“Yes, it is addressed: Sherlock Holmes, from Arsène Lupin.” + +The Englishman took the package, opened it, and found that it contained +a watch. + +“Ah!” he exclaimed, with an angry gesture. + +“A watch,” said Devanne. “How did it come there?” + +The detective did not reply. + +“Oh! it is your watch! Arsène Lupin returns your watch! But, in order to +return it, he must have taken it. Ah! I see! He took your watch! That +is a good one! Sherlock Holmes’ watch stolen by Arsène Lupin! Mon Dieu! +that is funny! Really.... you must excuse me....I can’t help it.” + +He roared with laughter, unable to control himself. After which, he +said, in a tone of earnest conviction: + +“A clever man, indeed!” + +The Englishman never moved a muscle. On the way to Dieppe, he never +spoke a word, but fixed his gaze on the flying landscape. His silence +was terrible, unfathomable, more violent than the wildest rage. At the +railway station, he spoke calmly, but in a voice that impressed one with +the vast energy and will power of that famous man. He said: + +“Yes, he is a clever man, but some day I shall have the pleasure of +placing on his shoulder the hand I now offer to you, Monsieur Devanne. +And I believe that Arsène Lupin and Sherlock Holmes will meet again +some day. Yes, the world is too small--we will meet--we must meet--and +then--” + + ***** + +--The further startling and thrilling adventures of Arsène Lupin will be +found in the book entitled “Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes.”-- + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EXTRAORDINARY ADVENTURES OF ARSÈNE LUPIN *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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