SECOND ARREST OF ARSÈNE LUPIN.
Since eight o’clock a dozen moving-vans had encumbered the rue Crevaux
between the avenue du Bois-de-Boulogne and the avenue Bugeaud. Mon.
Felix Davey was leaving the apartment in which he lived on the fourth
floor of No. 8; and Mon. Dubreuil, who had united into a single
apartment the fifth floor of the same house and the fifth floor of the
two adjoining houses, was moving on the same day—a mere coincidence,
since the gentlemen were unknown to each other—the vast collection of
furniture regarding which so many foreign agents visited him every day.
A circumstance which had been noticed by some of the neighbors, but was
not spoken of until later, was this: None of the twelve vans bore the
name and address of the owner, and none of the men accompanying them
visited the neighboring wine shops. They worked so diligently that the
furniture was all out by eleven o’clock. Nothing remained but those
scraps of papers and rags that are always left behind in the corners of
the empty rooms.
Mon. Felix Davey, an elegant young man, dressed in the latest fashion,
carried in his hand a walking-stick, the weight of which indicated that
its owner possessed extraordinary biceps—Mon. Felix Davey walked calmly
away and took a seat on a bench in the avenue du Bois-de-Boulogne
facing the rue Pergolese. Close to him a woman, dressed in a neat but
inexpensive costume, was reading a newspaper, whilst a child was
playing with a shovel in a heap of sand.
After a few minutes Felix Davey spoke to the woman, without turning his
head:
“Ganimard?”
“Went out at nine o’clock this morning.”
“Where?”
“To police headquarters.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“No telegram during the night?”
“No.”
“Do they suspect you in the house?”
“No; I do some little things for Madame Ganimard, and she tells me
everything her husband does. I have been with her all morning.”
“Very well. Until further orders come here every day at eleven
o’clock.”
He rose and walked away in the direction of the Dauphine gate, stopping
at the Chinese pavilion, where he partook of a frugal repast consisting
of two eggs, with some fruit and vegetables. Then he returned to the
rue Crevaux and said to the concierge:
“I will just glance through the rooms and then give you the keys.”
He finished his inspection of the room that he had used as a library;
then he seized the end of a gas-pipe, which hung down the side of the
chimney. The pipe was bent and a hole made in the elbow. To this hole
he fitted a small instrument in the form of an ear-trumpet and blew
into it. A slight whistling sound came by way of reply. Placing the
trumpet to his mouth, he said:
“Anyone around, Dubreuil?”
“No.”
“May I come up?”
“Yes.”
He returned the pipe to its place, saying to himself:
“How progressive we are! Our century abounds with little inventions
which render life really charming and picturesque. And so amusing!...
especially when a person knows how to enjoy life as I do.”
He turned one of the marble mouldings of the mantel, and the entire
half of the mantel moved, and the mirror above it glided in invisible
grooves, disclosing an opening and the lower steps of a stairs built in
the very body of the chimney; all very clean and complete—the stairs
were constructed of polished metal and the walls of white tiles. He
ascended the steps, and at the fifth floor there was the same opening
in the chimney. Mon. Dubreuil was waiting for him.
“Have you finished in your rooms?”
“Yes.”
“Everything cleared out?”
“Yes.”
“And the people?”
“Only the three men on guard.”
“Very well; come on.”
They ascended to the upper floor by the same means, one after the
other, and there found three men, one of whom was looking through the
window.
“Anything new?”
“Nothing, governor.”
“All quiet in the street?”
“Yes.”
“In ten minutes I will be ready to leave. You will go also. But in the
meantime if you see the least suspicious movement in the street, warn
me.”
“I have my finger on the alarm-bell all the time.”
“Dubreuil, did you tell the moving men not to touch the wire of that
bell?”
“Certainly; it is working all right.”
“That is all I want to know.”
The two gentlemen then descended to the apartment of Felix Davey and
the latter, after adjusting the marble mantel, exclaimed, joyfully:
“Dubreuil, I should like to see the man who is able to discover all the
ingenious devices, warning bells, net-works of electric wires and
acoustic tubes, invisible passages, moving floors and hidden stairways.
A real fairy-land!”
“What fame for Arsène Lupin!”
“Fame I could well dispense with. It’s a pity to be compelled to leave
a place so well equipped, and commence all over again, Dubreuil ... and
on a new model, of course, for it would never do to duplicate this.
Curse Herlock Sholmes!”
“Has he returned to Paris?”
“How could he? There has been only one boat come from Southampton and
it left there at midnight; only one train from Havre, leaving there at
eight o’clock this morning and due in Paris at eleven fifteen. As he
could not catch the midnight boat at Southampton—and the instructions
to the captain on that point were explicit—he cannot reach France until
this evening via Newhaven and Dieppe.”
“Do you think he will come back?”
“Yes; he never gives up. He will return to Paris; but it will be too
late. We will be far away.”
“And Mademoiselle Destange?”
“I am to see her in an hour.”
“At her house?”
“Oh! no; she will not return there for several days. But you, Dubreuil,
you must hurry. The loading of our goods will take a long time and you
should be there to look after them.”
“Are you sure that we are not being watched?”
“By whom? I am not afraid of anyone but Sholmes.”
Dubreuil retired. Felix Davey made a last tour of the apartment, picked
up two or three torn letters, then, noticing a piece of chalk, he took
it and, on the dark paper of the drawing-room, drew a large frame and
wrote within it the following:
“_Arsène Lupin, gentleman-burglar, lived here for five years at the
beginning of the twentieth century_.”
This little pleasantry seemed to please him very much. He looked at it
for a moment, whistling a lively air, then said to himself:
“Now that I have placed myself in touch with the historians of future
generations, I can go. You must hurry, Herlock Sholmes, as I shall
leave my present abode in three minutes, and your defeat will be an
accomplished fact.... Two minutes more! you are keeping me waiting,
Monsieur Sholmes.... One minute more! Are you not coming? Well, then, I
proclaim your downfall and my apotheosis. And now I make my escape.
Farewell, kingdom of Arsène Lupin! I shall never see you again.
Farewell to the fifty-five rooms of the six apartments over which I
reigned! Farewell, my own royal bed chamber!”
His outburst of joy was interrupted by the sharp ringing of a bell,
which stopped twice, started again and then ceased. It was the alarm
bell.
What was wrong? What unforeseen danger? Ganimard? No; that wasn’t
possible!
He was on the point of returning to his library and making his escape.
But, first, he went to the window. There was no one in the street. Was
the enemy already in the house? He listened and thought he could
discern certain confused sounds. He hesitated no longer. He ran to his
library, and as he crossed the threshold he heard the noise of a key
being inserted in the lock of the vestibule door.
“The deuce!” he murmured; “I have no time to lose. The house may be
surrounded. The servants’ stairway—impossible! Fortunately, there is
the chimney.”
He pushed the moulding; it did not move. He made a greater effort—still
it refused to move. At the same time he had the impression that the
door below opened and that he could hear footsteps.
“Good God!” he cried; “I am lost if this cursed mechanism—”
He pushed with all his strength. Nothing moved—nothing! By some
incredible accident, by some evil stroke of fortune, the mechanism,
which had worked only a few moments ago, would not work now.
He was furious. The block of marble remained immovable. He uttered
frightful imprecations on the senseless stone. Was his escape to be
prevented by that stupid obstacle? He struck the marble wildly, madly;
he hammered it, he cursed it.
“Ah! what’s the matter, Monsieur Lupin? You seem to be displeased about
something.”
Lupin turned around. Herlock Sholmes stood before him!
Herlock Sholmes!... Lupin gazed at him with squinting eyes as if his
sight were defective and misleading. Herlock Sholmes in Paris! Herlock
Sholmes, whom he had shipped to England only the day before as a
dangerous person, now stood before him free and victorious!... Ah! such
a thing was nothing less than a miracle; it was contrary to all natural
laws; it was the culmination of all that is illogical and abnormal....
Herlock Sholmes here—before his face!
And when the Englishman spoke his words were tinged with that keen
sarcasm and mocking politeness with which his adversary had so often
lashed him. He said:
“Monsieur Lupin, in the first place I have the honor to inform you that
at this time and place I blot from my memory forever all thoughts of
the miserable night that you forced me to endure in the house of Baron
d’Hautrec, of the injury done to my friend Wilson, of my abduction in
the automobile, and of the voyage I took yesterday under your orders,
bound to a very uncomfortable couch. But the joy of this moment effaces
all those bitter memories. I forgive everything. I forget everything—I
wipe out the debt. I am paid—and royally paid.”
Lupin made no reply. So the Englishman continued:
“Don’t you think so yourself?”
He appeared to insist as if demanding an acquiescence, as a sort of
receipt in regard to the part.
After a moment’s reflection, during which the Englishman felt that he
was scrutinized to the very depth of his soul, Lupin declared:
“I presume, monsieur, that your conduct is based upon serious motives?”
“Very serious.”
“The fact that you have escaped from my captain and his crew is only a
secondary incident of our struggle. But the fact that you are here
before me alone—understand, alone—face to face with Arsène Lupin, leads
me to think that your revenge is as complete as possible.”
“As complete as possible.”
“This house?”
“Surrounded.”
“The two adjoining houses?”
“Surrounded.”
“The apartment above this?”
“The _three_ apartments on the fifth floor that were formerly occupied
by Monsieur Dubreuil are surrounded.”
“So that——”
“So that you are captured, Monsieur Lupin—absolutely captured.”
The feelings that Sholmes had experienced during his trip in the
automobile were now suffered by Lupin, the same concentrated fury, the
same revolt, and also, let us admit, the same loyalty of submission to
force of circumstances. Equally brave in victory or defeat.
“Our accounts are squared, monsieur,” said Lupin, frankly.
The Englishman was pleased with that confession. After a short silence
Lupin, now quite self-possessed, said smiling:
“And I am not sorry! It becomes monotonous to win all the time.
Yesterday I had only to stretch out my hand to finish you forever.
Today I belong to you. The game is yours.” Lupin laughed heartily and
then continued: “At last the gallery will be entertained! Lupin in
prison! How will he get out? In prison!... What an adventure!... Ah!
Sholmes, life is just one damn thing after another!”
He pressed his closed hands to his temples as if to suppress the
tumultuous joy that surged within him, and his actions indicated that
he was moved by an uncontrollable mirth. At last, when he had recovered
his self-possession, he approached the detective and said:
“And now what are you waiting for?”
“What am I waiting for?”
“Yes; Ganimard is here with his men—why don’t they come in?”
“I asked him not to.”
“And he consented?”
“I accepted his services on condition that he would be guided by me.
Besides, he thinks that Felix Davey is only an accomplice of Arsène
Lupin.”
“Then I will repeat my question in another form. Why did you come in
alone?”
“Because I wished to speak to you alone.”
“Ah! ah! you have something to say to me.”
That idea seemed to please Lupin immensely. There are certain
circumstances in which words are preferable to deeds.
“Monsieur Sholmes, I am sorry I cannot offer you an easy chair. How
would you like that broken box? Or perhaps you would prefer the window
ledge? I am sure a glass of beer would be welcome ... light or dark?...
But sit down, please.”
“Thank you; we can talk as well standing up.”
“Very well—proceed.”
“I will be brief. The object of my sojourn in France was not to
accomplish your arrest. If I have been led to pursue you, it was
because I saw no other way to achieve my real object.”
“Which was?”
“To recover the blue diamond.”
“The blue diamond!”
“Certainly; since the one found in Herr Bleichen’s tooth-powder was
only an imitation.”
“Quite right; the genuine diamond was taken by the blonde Lady. I made
an exact duplicate of it and then, as I had designs on other jewels
belonging to the Countess and as the Consul Herr Bleichen was already
under suspicion, the aforesaid blonde Lady, in order to avert
suspicion, slipped the false stone into the aforesaid Consul’s
luggage.”
“While you kept the genuine diamond?”
“Of course.”
“That diamond—I want it.”
“I am very sorry, but it is impossible.”
“I have promised it to the Countess de Crozon. I must have it.”
“How will you get it, since it is in my possession?”
“That is precisely the reason—because it is in your possession.”
“Oh! I am to give it to you?”
“Yes.”
“Voluntarily?”
“I will buy it.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Lupin, in an access of mirth, “you are certainly an
Englishman. You treat this as a matter of business.”
“It is a matter of business.”
“Well? what is your offer?”
“The liberty of Mademoiselle Destange.”
“Her liberty?... I didn’t know she was under arrest.”
“I will give Monsieur Ganimard the necessary information. When deprived
of your protection, she can readily be taken.”
Lupin laughed again, and said:
“My dear monsieur, you are offering me something you do not possess.
Mademoiselle Destange is in a place of safety, and has nothing to fear.
You must make me another offer.”
The Englishman hesitated, visibly embarrassed and vexed. Then, placing
his hand on the shoulder of his adversary, he said:
“And if I should propose to you—”
“My liberty?”
“No ... but I can leave the room to consult with Ganimard.”
“And leave me alone?”
“Yes.”
“Ah! mon dieu, what good would that be? The cursed mechanism will not
work,” said Lupin, at the same time savagely pushing the moulding of
the mantel. He stifled a cry of surprise; this time fortune favored
him—the block of marble moved. It was his salvation; his hope of
escape. In that event, why submit to the conditions imposed by Sholmes?
He paced up and down the room, as if he were considering his reply.
Then, in his turn, he placed his hand on the shoulder of his adversary,
and said:
“All things considered, Monsieur Sholmes, I prefer to do my own
business in my own way.”
“But—”
“No, I don’t require anyone’s assistance.”
“When Ganimard gets his hand on you, it will be all over. You can’t
escape from them.”
“Who knows?”
“Come, that is foolish. Every door and window is guarded.”
“Except one.”
“Which?”
“_The one I will choose_.”
“Mere words! Your arrest is as good as made.”
“Oh! no—not at all.”
“Well?”
“I shall keep the blue diamond.”
Sholmes looked at his watch, and said:
“It is now ten minutes to three. At three o’clock I shall call
Ganimard.”
“Well, then, we have ten minutes to chat. And to satisfy my curiosity,
Monsieur Sholmes, I should like to know how you procured my address and
my name of Felix Davey?”
Although his adversary’s easy manner caused Sholmes some anxiety, he
was willing to give Lupin the desired information since it reflected
credit on his professional astuteness; so he replied:
“Your address? I got it from the blonde Lady.”
“Clotilde!”
“Herself. Do you remember, yesterday morning, when I wished to take her
away in the automobile, she telephoned to her dressmaker.”
“Well?”
“Well, I understood, later, that you were the dressmaker. And last
night, on the boat, by exercising my memory—and my memory is something
I have good reason to be proud of—I was able to recollect the last two
figures of your telephone number—73. Then, as I possessed a list of the
houses you had ‘improved,’ it was an easy matter, on my arrival in
Paris at eleven o’clock this morning, to search in the telephone
directory and find there the name and address of Felix Davey. Having
obtained that information, I asked the aid of Monsieur Ganimard.”
“Admirable! I congratulate you. But how did you manage to catch the
eight o’clock train at Havre? How did you escape from _The Swallow_?”
“I did not escape.”
“But——”
“You ordered the captain not to reach Southampton before one o’clock.
He landed me there at midnight. I was able to catch the twelve o’clock
boat for Havre.”
“Did the captain betray me? I can’t believe it.”
“No, he did not betray you.”
“Well, what then?”
“It was his watch.”
“His watch?”
“Yes, I put it ahead one hour.”
“How?”
“In the usual way, by turning the hands. We were sitting side by side,
talking, and I was telling him some funny stories.... Why! he never saw
me do it.”
“Bravo! a very clever trick. I shall not forget it. But the clock that
was hanging on the wall of the cabin?”
“Ah! the clock was a more difficult matter, as my feet were tied, but
the sailor, who guarded me during the captain’s absence, was kind
enough to turn the hands for me.”
“He? Nonsense! He wouldn’t do it.”
“Oh! but he didn’t know the importance of his act. I told him I must
catch the first train for London, at any price, and ... he allowed
himself to be persuaded——”
“By means of——”
“By means of a slight gift, which the excellent fellow, loyal and true
to his master, intends to send to you.”
“What was it?”
“A mere trifle.”
“But what?”
“The blue diamond.”
“The blue diamond!”
“Yes, the false stone that you substituted for the Countess’ diamond.
She gave it to me.”
There was a sudden explosion of violent laughter. Lupin laughed until
the tears started in his eyes.
“Mon dieu, but it is funny! My false diamond palmed off on my innocent
sailor! And the captain’s watch! And the hands of the clock!”
Sholmes felt that the duel between him and Lupin was keener than ever.
His marvellous instinct warned him that, behind his adversary’s display
of mirth, there was a shrewd intellect debating the ways and means to
escape. Gradually Lupin approached the Englishman, who recoiled, and,
unconsciously, slipped his hand into his watch-pocket.
“It is three o’clock, Monsieur Lupin.”
“Three o’clock, already? What a pity! We were enjoying our chat so
much.”
“I am waiting for your answer.”
“My answer? Mon dieu! but you are particular!... And so this is the
last move in our little game—and the stake is my liberty!”
“Or the blue diamond.”
“Very well. It’s your play. What are you going to do?”
“I play the king,” said Sholmes, as he fired his revolver.
“And I the ace,” replied Lupin, as he struck at Sholmes with his fist.
Sholmes had fired into the air, as a signal to Ganimard, whose
assistance he required. But Lupin’s fist had caught Sholmes in the
stomach, and caused him to double up with pain. Lupin rushed to the
fireplace and set the marble slab in motion.... Too late! The door
opened.
“Surrender, Lupin, or I fire!”
Ganimard, doubtless stationed closer than Lupin had thought, Ganimard
was there, with his revolver turned on Lupin. And behind Ganimard there
were twenty men, strong and ruthless fellows, who would beat him like a
dog at the least sign of resistance.
“Hands down! I surrender!” said Lupin, calmly; and he folded his arms
across his breast.
Everyone was amazed. In the room, divested of its furniture and
hangings, Arsène Lupin’s words sounded like an echo.... “I surrender!”
... It seemed incredible. No one would have been astonished if he had
suddenly vanished through a trap, or if a section of the wall had
rolled away and allowed him to escape. But he surrendered!
Ganimard advanced, nervously, and with all the gravity that the
importance of the occasion demanded, he placed his hand on the shoulder
of his adversary, and had the infinite pleasure of saying:
“I arrest you, Arsène Lupin.”
“Brrr!” said Lupin, “you make me shiver, my dear Ganimard. What a
lugubrious face! One would imagine you were speaking over the grave of
a friend. For Heaven’s sake, don’t assume such a funereal air.”
“I arrest you.”
“Don’t let that worry you! In the name of the law, of which he is a
well-deserving pillar, Ganimard, the celebrated Parisian detective,
arrests the wicked Arsène Lupin. An historic event, of which you will
appreciate the true importance.... And it is the second time that it
has happened. Bravo, Ganimard, you are sure of advancement in your
chosen profession!”
And he held out his wrists for the hand-cuffs. Ganimard adjusted them
in a most solemn manner. The numerous policemen, despite their
customary presumption and the bitterness of their feelings toward
Lupin, conducted themselves with becoming modesty, astonished at being
permitted to gaze upon that mysterious and intangible creature.
“My poor Lupin,” sighed our hero, “what would your aristocratic friends
say if they should see you in this humiliating position?”
He pulled his wrists apart with all his strength. The veins in his
forehead expanded. The links of the chain cut into his flesh. The chain
fell off—broken.
“Another, comrades, that one was useless.”
They placed two on him this time.
“Quite right,” he said. “You cannot be too careful.”
Then, counting the detectives and policemen, he said:
“How many are you, my friends? Twenty-five? Thirty? That’s too many. I
can’t do anything. Ah! if there had been only fifteen!”
There was something fascinating about Lupin; it was the fascination of
the great actor who plays his rôle with spirit and understanding,
combined with assurance and ease. Sholmes regarded him as one might
regard a beautiful painting with a due appreciation of all its
perfection in coloring and technique. And he really thought that it was
an equal struggle between those thirty men on one side, armed as they
were with all the strength and majesty of the law, and, on the other
side, that solitary individual, unarmed and handcuffed. Yes, the two
sides were well-matched.
“Well, master,” said Lupin to the Englishman, “this is your work.
Thanks to you, Lupin is going to rot on the damp straw of a dungeon.
Confess that your conscience pricks you a little, and that your soul is
filled with remorse.”
In spite of himself, Sholmes shrugged his shoulders, as if to say:
“It’s your own fault.”
“Never! never!” exclaimed Lupin. “Give you the blue diamond? Oh! no, it
has cost me too much trouble. I intend to keep it. On my occasion of my
first visit to you in London—which will probably be next month—I will
tell you my reasons. But will you be in London next month? Or do you
prefer Vienna? Or Saint Petersburg?”
Then Lupin received a surprise. A bell commenced to ring. It was not
the alarm-bell, but the bell of the telephone which was located between
the two windows of the room and had not yet been removed.
The telephone! Ah! Who could it be? Who was about to fall into this
unfortunate trap? Arsène Lupin exhibited an access of rage against the
unlucky instrument as if he would like to break it into a thousand
pieces and thus stifle the mysterious voice that was calling for him.
But it was Ganimard who took down the receiver, and said:
“Hello!... Hello!... number 648.73 ... yes, this is it.”
Then Sholmes stepped up, and, with an air of authority, pushed Ganimard
aside, took the receiver, and covered the transmitter with his
handkerchief in order to obscure the tone of his voice. At that moment
he glanced toward Lupin, and the look which they exchanged indicated
that the same idea had occurred to each of them, and that they foresaw
the ultimate result of that theory: it was the blonde Lady who was
telephoning. She wished to telephone to Felix Davey, or rather to
Maxime Bermond, and it was to Sholmes she was about to speak. The
Englishman said:
“Hello ... Hello!”
Then, after a silence, he said:
“Yes, it is I, Maxime.”
The drama had commenced and was progressing with tragic precision.
Lupin, the irrepressible and nonchalant Lupin, did not attempt to
conceal his anxiety, and he strained every nerve in a desire to hear
or, at least, to divine the purport of the conversation. And Sholmes
continued, in reply to the mysterious voice:
“Hello!... Hello!... Yes, everything has been moved, and I am just
ready to leave here and meet you as we agreed.... Where?... Where you
are now.... Don’t believe that he is here yet!...”
Sholmes stopped, seeking for words. It was clear that he was trying to
question the girl without betraying himself, and that he was ignorant
of her whereabouts. Moreover, Ganimard’s presence seemed to embarrass
him.... Ah! if some miracle would only interrupt that cursed
conversation! Lupin prayed for it with all his strength, with all the
intensity of his incited nerves! After a momentary pause, Sholmes
continued:
“Hello!... Hello!... Do you hear me?... I can’t hear you very well....
Can scarcely make out what you say.... Are you listening? Well, I think
you had better return home.... No danger now.... But he is in England!
I have received a telegram from Southampton announcing his arrival.”
The sarcasm of those words! Sholmes uttered them with an inexpressible
comfort. And he added:
“Very well, don’t lose any time. I will meet you there.”
He hung up the receiver.
“Monsieur Ganimard, can you furnish me with three men?”
“For the blonde Lady, eh?”
“Yes.”
“You know who she is, and where she is?”
“Yes.”
“Good! That settles Monsieur Lupin.... Folenfant, take two men, and go
with Monsieur Sholmes.”
The Englishman departed, accompanied by the three men.
The game was ended. The blonde Lady was, also, about to fall into the
hands of the Englishman. Thanks to his commendable persistence and to a
combination of fortuitous circumstances, the battle had resulted in a
victory for the detective, and in irreparable disaster for Lupin.
“Monsieur Sholmes!”
The Englishman stopped.
“Monsieur Lupin?”
Lupin was clearly shattered by this final blow. His forehead was marked
by deep wrinkles. He was sullen and dejected. However, he pulled
himself together, and, notwithstanding his defeat, he exclaimed, in a
cheerful tone:
“You will concede that fate has been against me. A few minutes ago, it
prevented my escape through that chimney, and delivered me into your
hands. Now, by means of the telephone, it presents you with the blonde
Lady. I submit to its decrees.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I am ready to re-open our negotiation.”
Sholmes took Ganimard aside and asked, in a manner that did not permit
a reply, the authority to exchange a few words with the prisoner. Then
he approached Lupin, and said, in a sharp, nervous tone:
“What do you want?”
“Mademoiselle Destange’s liberty.”
“You know the price.”
“Yes.”
“And you accept?”
“Yes; I accept your terms.”
“Ah!” said the Englishman, in surprise, “but ... you refused ... for
yourself——”
“Yes, I can look out for myself, Monsieur Sholmes, but now the question
concerns a young woman ... and a woman I love. In France, understand,
we have very decided ideas about such things. And Lupin has the same
feelings as other people.”
He spoke with simplicity and candor. Sholmes replied by an almost
imperceptible inclination of his head, and murmured:
“Very well, the blue diamond.”
“Take my cane, there, at the end of the mantel. Press on the head of
the cane with one hand, and, with the other, turn the iron ferrule at
the bottom.”
Holmes took the cane and followed the directions. As he did so, the
head of the cane divided and disclosed a cavity which contained a small
ball of wax which, in turn, enclosed a diamond. He examined it. It was
the blue diamond.
“Monsieur Lupin, Mademoiselle Destange is free.”
“Is her future safety assured? Has she nothing to fear from you?”
“Neither from me, nor anyone else.”
“How can you manage it?”
“Quite easily. I have forgotten her name and address.”
“Thank you. And au revoir—for I will see you again, sometime, Monsieur
Sholmes?”
“I have no doubt of it.”
Then followed an animated conversation between Sholmes and Ganimard,
which was abruptly terminated by the Englishman, who said:
“I am very sorry, Monsieur Ganimard, that we cannot agree on that
point, but I have no time to waste trying to convince you. I leave for
England within an hour.”
“But ... the blonde Lady?”
“I do not know such a person.”
“And yet, a moment ago——”
“You must take the affair as it stands. I have delivered Arsène Lupin
into your hands. Here is the blue diamond, which you will have the
pleasure of returning to the Countess de Crozon. What more do you
want?”
“The blonde Lady.”
“Find her.”
Sholmes pulled his cap down over his forehead and walked rapidly away,
like a man who is accustomed to go as soon as his business is finished.
“Bon voyage, monsieur,” cried Lupin, “and, believe me, I shall never
forget the friendly way in which our little business affairs have been
arranged. My regards to Monsieur Wilson.”
Not receiving any reply, Lupin added, sneeringly:
“That is what is called ‘taking British leave.’ Ah! their insular
dignity lacks the flower of courtesy by which we are distinguished.
Consider for a moment, Ganimard, what a charming exit a Frenchman would
have made under similar circumstances! With what exquisite courtesy he
would have masked his triumph!... But, God bless me, Ganimard, what are
you doing? Making a search? Come, what’s the use? There is nothing
left—not even a scrap of paper. I assure you my archives are in a safe
place.”
“I am not so sure of that,” replied Ganimard. “I must search
everything.”
Lupin submitted to the operation. Held by two detectives and surrounded
by the others, he patiently endured the proceedings for twenty minutes,
then he said:
“Hurry up, Ganimard, and finish!”
“You are in a hurry.”
“Of course I am. An important appointment.”
“At the police station?”
“No; in the city.”
“Ah! at what time?”
“Two o’clock.”
“It is three o’clock now.”
“Just so; I will be late. And punctuality is one of my virtues.”
“Well, give me five minutes.”
“Not a second more,” said Lupin.
“I am doing my best to expedite——”
“Oh! don’t talk so much.... Still searching that cupboard? It is
empty.”
“Here are some letters.”
“Old invoices, I presume!”
“No; a packet tied with a ribbon.”
“A red ribbon? Oh! Ganimard, for God’s sake, don’t untie it!”
“From a woman?”
“Yes.”
“A woman of the world?”
“The best in the world.”
“Her name?”
“Madame Ganimard.”
“Very funny! very funny!” exclaimed the detective.
At that moment the men, who had been sent to search the other rooms,
returned and announced their failure to find anything. Lupin laughed
and said:
“Parbleu! Did you expect to find my visiting list, or evidence of my
business relations with the Emperor of Germany? But I can tell you what
you should investigate, Ganimard: All the little mysteries of this
apartment. For instance, that gas-pipe is a speaking tube. That chimney
contains a stairway. That wall is hollow. And the marvellous system of
bells! Ah! Ganimard, just press that button!”
Ganimard obeyed.
“Did you hear anything?” asked Lupin.
“No.”
“Neither did I. And yet you notified my aeronaut to prepare the
dirigible balloon which will soon carry us into the clouds.”
“Come!” said Ganimard, who had completed his search; “we’ve had enough
nonsense—let’s be off.”
He started away, followed by his men. Lupin did not move. His guardians
pushed him in vain.
“Well,” said Ganimard, “do you refuse to go?”
“Not at all. But it depends.”
“On what?”
“Where you want to take me.”
“To the station-house, of course.”
“Then I refuse to go. I have no business there.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Did I not tell you that I had an important appointment?”
“Lupin!”
“Why, Ganimard, I have an appointment with the blonde Lady, and do you
suppose I would be so discourteous as to cause her a moment’s anxiety?
That would be very ungentlemanly.”
“Listen, Lupin,” said the detective, who was becoming annoyed by this
persiflage; “I have been very patient with you, but I will endure no
more. Follow me.”
“Impossible; I have an appointment and I shall keep it.”
“For the last time—follow me!”
“Im-pos-sible!”
At a sign from Ganimard two men seized Lupin by the arms; but they
released him at once, uttering cries of pain. Lupin had thrust two long
needles into them. The other men now rushed at Lupin with cries of rage
and hatred, eager to avenge their comrades and to avenge themselves for
the many affronts he had heaped upon them; and now they struck and beat
him to their heart’s desire. A violent blow on the temple felled Lupin
to the floor.
“If you hurt him you will answer to me,” growled Ganimard, in a rage.
He leaned over Lupin to ascertain his condition. Then, learning that he
was breathing freely, Ganimard ordered his men to carry the prisoner by
the head and feet, while he himself supported the body.
“Go gently, now!... Don’t jolt him. Ah! the brutes would have killed
him.... Well, Lupin, how goes it?”
“None too well, Ganimard ... you let them knock me out.”
“It was your own fault; you were so obstinate,” replied Ganimard. “But
I hope they didn’t hurt you.”
They had left the apartment and were now on the landing. Lupin groaned
and stammered:
“Ganimard ... the elevator ... they are breaking my bones.”
“A good idea, an excellent idea,” replied Ganimard. “Besides, the
stairway is too narrow.”
He summoned the elevator. They placed Lupin on the seat with the
greatest care. Ganimard took his place beside him and said to his men:
“Go down the stairs and wait for me below. Understand?”
Ganimard closed the door of the elevator. Suddenly the elevator shot
upward like a balloon released from its cable. Lupin burst into a fit
of sardonic laughter.
“Good God!” cried Ganimard, as he made a frantic search in the dark for
the button of descent. Having found it, he cried:
“The fifth floor! Watch the door of the fifth floor.”
His assistants clambered up the stairs, two and three steps at a time.
But this strange circumstance happened: The elevator seemed to break
through the ceiling of the last floor, disappeared from the sight of
Ganimard’s assistants, suddenly made its appearance on the upper
floor—the servants’ floor—and stopped. Three men were there waiting for
it. They opened the door. Two of them seized Ganimard, who, astonished
at the sudden attack, scarcely made any defence. The other man carried
off Lupin.
“I warned you, Ganimard ... about the dirigible balloon. Another time,
don’t be so tender-hearted. And, moreover, remember that Arsène Lupin
doesn’t allow himself to be struck and knocked down without sufficient
reason. Adieu.”
The door of the elevator was already closed on Ganimard, and the
machine began to descend; and it all happened so quickly that the old
detective reached the ground floor as soon as his assistants. Without
exchanging a word they crossed the court and ascended the servants’
stairway, which was the only way to reach the servants’ floor through
which the escape had been made.
A long corridor with several turns and bordered with little numbered
rooms led to a door that was not locked. On the other side of this door
and, therefore, in another house there was another corridor with
similar turns and similar rooms, and at the end of it a servants’
stairway. Ganimard descended it, crossed a court and a vestibule and
found himself in the rue Picot. Then he understood the situation: the
two houses, built the entire depth of the lots, touched at the rear,
while the fronts of the houses faced upon two streets that ran parallel
to each other at a distance of more than sixty metres apart.
He found the concierge and, showing his card, enquired:
“Did four men pass here just now?”
“Yes; the two servants from the fourth and fifth floors, with two
friends.”
“Who lives on the fourth and fifth floors?”
“Two men named Fauvel and their cousins, whose name is Provost. They
moved to-day, leaving the two servants, who went away just now.”
“Ah!” thought Ganimard; “what a grand opportunity we have missed! The
entire band lived in these houses.”
And he sank down on a chair in despair.
Forty minutes later two gentlemen were driven up to the station of the
Northern Railway and hurried to the Calais express, followed by a
porter who carried their valises. One of them had his arm in a sling,
and the pallor of his face denoted some illness. The other man was in a
jovial mood.
“We must hurry, Wilson, or we will miss the train.... Ah! Wilson, I
shall never forget these ten days.”
“Neither will I.”
“Ah! it was a great struggle!”
“Superb!”
“A few repulses, here and there—”
“Of no consequence.”
“And, at last, victory all along the line. Lupin arrested! The blue
diamond recovered!”
“My arm broken!”
“What does a broken arm count for in such a victory as that?”
“Especially when it is my arm.”
“Ah! yes, don’t you remember, Wilson, that it was at the very time you
were in the pharmacy, suffering like a hero, that I discovered the clue
to the whole mystery?”
“How lucky!”
The doors of the carriages were being closed.
“All aboard. Hurry up, gentlemen!”
The porter climbed into an empty compartment and placed their valises
in the rack, whilst Sholmes assisted the unfortunate Wilson.
“What’s the matter, Wilson? You’re not done up, are you? Come, pull
your nerves together.”
“My nerves are all right.”
“Well, what is it, then?”
“I have only one hand.”
“What of it?” exclaimed Sholmes, cheerfully. “You are not the only one
who has had a broken arm. Cheer up!”
Sholmes handed the porter a piece of fifty centimes.
“Thank you, Monsieur Sholmes,” said the porter.
The Englishman looked at him; it was Arsène Lupin.
“You!... you!” he stammered, absolutely astounded.
And Wilson brandished his sound arm in the manner of a man who
demonstrates a fact as he said:
“You! you! but you were arrested! Sholmes told me so. When he left you
Ganimard and thirty men had you in charge.”
Lupin folded his arms and said, with an air of indignation:
“Did you suppose I would let you go away without bidding you adieu?
After the very friendly relations that have always existed between us!
That would be discourteous and ungrateful on my part.”
The train whistled. Lupin continued:
“I beg your pardon, but have you everything you need? Tobacco and
matches ... yes ... and the evening papers? You will find in them an
account of my arrest—your last exploit, Monsieur Sholmes. And now, au
revoir. Am delighted to have made your acquaintance. And if ever I can
be of any service to you, I shall be only too happy....” He leaped to
the platform and closed the door.
“Adieu,” he repeated, waving his handkerchief. “Adieu.... I shall write
to you.... You will write also, eh? And your arm broken, Wilson.... I
am truly sorry.... I shall expect to hear from both of you. A postal
card, now and then, simply address: Lupin, Paris. That is
sufficient.... Adieu.... See you soon.”