Don Luis had certainly expected this formidable blow; and yet it appeared
to take him unawares, and he repeated more than once:
"Ah, Weber is here! Weber is here!"
All his buoyancy left him, and he felt like a retreating army which,
after almost making good its escape, suddenly finds itself brought to a
stop by a steep mountain. Weber was there--that is to say, the chief
leader of the enemies, the man who would be sure to plan the attack and
the resistance in such a manner as to dash Perenna's hopes to the ground.
With Weber at the head of the detectives, any attempt to force a way out
would have been absurd.
"Did you let him in?" he asked.
"You did not tell me not to, sir."
"Is he alone?"
"No, sir, the deputy chief has six men with him. He has left them in the
courtyard."
"And where is he?"
"He asked me to take him to the first floor. He expected to find you in
your study, sir."
"Does he know now that I am with Sergeant Mazeroux and Mlle. Levasseur?"
"Yes, sir."
Perenna thought for a moment and then said:
"Tell him that you have not found me and that you are going to look for
me in Mlle. Levasseur's rooms. Perhaps he will go with you. All the
better if he does."
And he locked the door again.
The struggle through which he had just passed did not show itself on his
face; and, now that all was lost, now that he was called upon to act, he
recovered that wonderful composure which never abandoned him at decisive
moments. He went up to Florence. She was very pale and was silently
weeping. He said:
"You must not be frightened, Mademoiselle. If you obey me implicitly, you
will have nothing to fear."
She did not reply and he saw that she still mistrusted him. And he almost
rejoiced at the thought that he would compel her to believe in him.
"Listen to me," he said to Sauverand. "In case I should not succeed after
all, there are still several things which you must explain."
"What are they?" asked Sauverand, who had lost none of his coolness.
Then, collecting all his riotous thoughts, resolved to omit nothing, but
at the same time to speak only what was essential, Don Luis asked, in a
calm voice:
"Where were you on the morning before the murder, when a man carrying an
ebony walking-stick and answering to your description entered the Café du
Pont-Neuf immediately after Inspector Vérot?"
"At home."
"Are you sure that you did not go out?"
"Absolutely sure. And I am also sure that I have never been to the Café
du Pont-Neuf, of which I had never even heard."
"Good. Next question. Why, when you learned all about this business, did
you not go to the Prefect of Police or the examining magistrate? It would
have been simpler for you to give yourself up and tell the exact truth
than to engage in this unequal fight."
"I was thinking of doing so. But I at once realized that the plot hatched
against me was so clever that no bare statement of the truth would have
been enough to convince the authorities. They would never have believed
me. What proof could I supply? None at all--whereas, on the other hand,
the proofs against us were overwhelming and undeniable. Were not the
marks of the teeth evidence of Marie's undoubted guilt? And were not my
silence, my flight, the shooting of Chief Inspector Ancenis so many
crimes? No, if I would rescue Marie, I must remain free."
"But she could have spoken herself?"
"And confessed our love? Apart from the fact that her womanly modesty
would have prevented her, what good would it have done? On the contrary,
it meant lending greater weight to the accusation. That was just what
happened when Hippolyte Fauville's letters, appearing one by one,
revealed to the police the as yet unknown motives of the crimes imputed
to us. We loved each other."
"How do you explain the letters?"
"I can't explain them. We did not know of Fauville's jealousy. He kept it
to himself. And then, again, why did he suspect us? What can have put it
into his head that we meant to kill him? Where did his fears, his
nightmares, come from? It is a mystery. He wrote that he had letters of
ours in his possession: what letters?"
"And the marks of the teeth, those marks which were undoubtedly made by
Mme. Fauville?"
"I don't know. It is all incomprehensible."
"You don't know either what she can have done after leaving the opera
between twelve and two in the morning?"
"No. She was evidently lured into a trap. But how and by whom? And why
does she not say what she was doing? More mystery."
"You were seen that evening, the evening of the murders, at Auteuil
station. What were you doing there?"
"I was going to the Boulevard Suchet and I passed under Marie's windows.
Remember that it was a Wednesday. I came back on the following Wednesday,
and, still knowing nothing of the tragedy or of Marie's arrest, I came
back again on the second Wednesday, which was the evening on which you
found out where I lived and informed Sergeant Mazeroux against me."
"Another thing. Did you know of the Mornington inheritance?"
"No, nor Florence either; and we have every reason to think that Marie
and her husband knew no more about it than we did."
"That barn at Damigni: was it the first time that you had entered it?"
"Yes; and our astonishment at the sight of the two skeletons hanging from
the rafters equalled yours."
Don Luis was silent. He cast about for a few seconds longer to see if he
had any more questions to ask. Then he said:
"That is all I wanted to know. Are you, on your side, certain that
everything that is necessary has been said?"
"Yes."
"This is a serious moment. It is possible that we may not meet again. Now
you have not given me a single proof of your statements."
"I have told you the truth. To a man like yourself, the truth is enough.
As for me, I am beaten. I give up the struggle, or, rather, I place
myself under your orders. Save Marie."
"I will save the three of you," said Perenna. "The fourth of the
mysterious letters is to make its appearance to-morrow: that leaves ample
time for us to lay our heads together and study the matter fully. And
to-morrow evening I shall go there and, with the help of all that you
have told me, I shall prove the innocence of you all. The essential thing
is to be present at the meeting on the twenty-fifth of May."
"Please think only of Marie. Sacrifice me, if necessary. Sacrifice
Florence even. I am speaking in her name as well as my own when I tell
you that it is better to desert us than to jeopardize the slightest
chance of success."
"I will save the three of you," Perenna repeated.
He pushed the door ajar and, after listening outside, said:
"Don't move. And don't open the door to anybody, on any pretext whatever,
before I come to fetch you. I shall not be long."
He locked the door behind him and went down to the first floor. He did
not feel those high spirits which usually cheered him on the eve of his
great battles. This time, Florence Levasseur's life and liberty were at
stake; and the consequences of a defeat seemed to him worse than death.
Through the window on the landing he saw the detectives guarding the
courtyard. He counted six of them. And he also saw the deputy chief at
one of the windows of his study, watching the courtyard and keeping in
touch with his detectives.
"By Jove!" he thought, "he's sticking to his post. It will be a tough
job. He suspects something. However, let's make a start!"
He went through the drawing-room and entered his study. Weber saw him.
The two enemies were face to face.
There was a few seconds' silence before the duel opened, the duel which
was bound to be swift and vigorous, without the least sign of weakness or
distraction on either side. It could not last longer than three minutes.
The deputy chief's face bore an expression of mingled joy and anxiety.
For the first time he had permission, he had orders, to fight that
accursed Don Luis, against whom he had never yet been able to satisfy
his hatred. And his delight was all the greater because he held every
trump, whereas Don Luis had put himself in the wrong by defending
Florence Levasseur and tampering with the girl's portrait. On the other
hand, Weber did not forget that Don Luis was identical with Arsène
Lupin; and this consideration caused him a certain uneasiness. He was
obviously thinking:
"The least blunder, and I'm done for."
He crossed swords with a jest.
"I see that you were not in Mlle. Levasseur's lodge, as your man
pretended."
"My man spoke in accordance with my instructions, I was in my bedroom,
upstairs. But I wanted to finish the job before I came down."
"And is it done?"
"It's done. Florence Levasseur and Gaston Sauverand are in my room,
gagged and bound. You have only to accept delivery of the goods."
"Gaston Sauverand!" cried Weber. "Then it was he who was seen coming in?"
"Yes. He was simply living with Florence Levasseur, whose lover he is."
"Oho!" said the deputy chief, in a bantering tone. "Her lover!"
"Yes; and when Sergeant Mazeroux brought Florence Levasseur to my room,
to question her out of hearing of the servants, Sauverand, foreseeing the
arrest of his mistress, had the audacity to join us. He tried to rescue
her from our hands."
"And you checkmated him?"
"Yes."
It was clear that the deputy chief did not believe one word of the story.
He knew through M. Desmalions and Mazeroux that Don Luis was in love with
Florence; and Don Luis was not the man even through jealousy to hand over
a woman whom he loved. He increased his attention.
"Good business!" he said. "Take me up to your room. Was it a hard
struggle?"
"Not very. I managed to disarm the scoundrel. All the same, Mazeroux got
stabbed in the thumb."
"Nothing serious?"
"Oh, dear, no; but he has gone to have his wound dressed at the
chemist's."
The deputy chief stopped, greatly surprised.
"What! Isn't Mazeroux in your room with the two prisoners?"
"I never told you that he was."
"No, but your butler--"
"The butler made a mistake. Mazeroux went out a few minutes before
you came."
"It's funny," said Weber, watching Don Luis closely, "but my men all
think he's here. They haven't seen him go out."
"They haven't seen him go out?" echoed Don Luis, pretending to feel
anxious. "But, then, where can he be? He told me he wanted to have his
thumb seen to."
The deputy chief was growing more and more suspicious. Evidently Perenna
was trying to get rid of him by sending him in search of the sergeant.
"I will send one of my men," he said. "Is the chemist's near?"
"Just around the corner, in the Rue de Bourgogne. Besides, we can
telephone."
"Oh, we can telephone!" muttered Weber.
He was quite at a loss and looked like a man who does not know what is
going to happen next. He moved slowly toward the instrument, while
barring the way to Don Luis to prevent his escaping. Don Luis
therefore retreated to the telephone box, as if forced to do so, took
down the receiver with one hand, and, calling, "Hullo! Hullo! Saxe,
2409," with the other hand, which was resting against the wall, he cut
one of the wires with a pair of pliers which he had taken off the
table as he passed.
"Hullo! Are you there? Is that 2409? Are you the
chemist?... Hullo!... Sergeant Mazeroux of the detective service is with
you, isn't he? Eh? What? What do you say? But it's too awful! Are you
sure? Do you mean to say the wound is poisoned?"
Without thinking what he was doing, the deputy chief pushed Don Luis
aside and took hold of the receiver. The thought of the poisoned wound
was too much for him.
"Are you there?" he cried, keeping an eye on Don Luis and motioning to
him not to go away. "Are you there? ... Eh? ... It's Deputy Chief Weber,
of the detective office, speaking.... Hullo! Are you there? ... I want to
know about Sergeant Mazeroux. ... Are you there?. . . Oh, hang it, why
don't you answer!"
Suddenly he let go the instrument, looked at the wires, perceived that
they had been cut, and turned round, showing a face that clearly
expressed the thought in his mind.
"That's done it. I've been tricked!"
Perenna was standing a couple of yards behind him, leaning carelessly
against the woodwork of the arch, with his left hand passed between
his back and the woodwork. He was smiling, smiling pleasantly, kindly,
and genially:
"Don't move!" he said, with a gesture of his right hand.
Weber, more frightened by that smile than he would have been by threats,
took good care not to move.
"Don't move," repeated Don Luis, in a very queer voice. "And, whatever
you do, don't be alarmed. You shan't be hurt, I promise you. Just five
minutes in a dark cell for a naughty little boy. Are you ready? One two,
three! Bang!"
He stood aside and pressed the button that worked the iron curtain. The
heavy panel came crashing to the floor. The deputy chief was a prisoner.
"That's a hundred millions gone to Jericho," grinned Don Luis. "A pretty
trick, but a bit expensive. Good-bye, Mornington inheritance! Good-bye,
Don Luis Perenna! And now, my dear Lupin, if you don't want Weber to take
his revenge, beat a retreat and in good order. One, two; left, right;
left, right!"
As he spoke, he locked, on the inside, the folding doors between the
drawing-room and the first-floor anteroom; then, returning to his study,
he locked the door between this room and the drawing-room.
The deputy chief was banging at the iron curtain with all his might and
shouting so loud that they were bound to hear him outside through the
open window.
"You're not making half enough noise, deputy!" cried Don Luis. "Let's see
what we can do."
He took his revolver and fired off three bullets, one of which broke a
pane. Then he quickly left his study by a small, massive door, which he
carefully closed behind him. He was now in a secret passage which ran
round both rooms and ended at another door leading to the anteroom. He
opened this door wide and was thus able to hide behind it.
Attracted by the shots and the noise, the detectives were already rushing
through the hall and up the staircase. When they reached the first floor
and had gone through the anteroom, as the drawing-room doors were locked,
the only outlet open to them was the passage, at the end of which they
could hear the deputy shouting. They all six darted down it.
When the last of them had vanished round the bend in the passage, Don
Luis softly pushed back the door that concealed him and locked it
like the rest. The six detectives were as safely imprisoned as the
deputy chief.
"Bottled!" muttered Don Luis. "It will take them quite five minutes to
realize the situation, to bang at the locked doors, and to break down one
of them. In five minutes we shall be far away."
He met two of his servants running up with scared faces, the chauffeur
and the butler. He flung each of them a thousand-franc note and said to
the chauffeur:
"Set the engine going, there's a sportsman, and let no one near the
machine to block my way. Two thousand francs more for each of you if I
get off in the motor. Don't stand staring at me like that: I mean what I
say. Two thousand francs apiece: it's for you to earn it. Look sharp!"
He himself went up the second flight without undue haste, remaining
master of himself. But, on the last stair, he was seized with such a
feeling of elation that he shouted:
"Victory! The road is clear!"
The boudoir door was opposite. He opened it and repeated:
"Victory! But there's not a second to lose. Follow me."
He entered. A stifled oath escaped his lips.
The room was empty.
"What!" he stammered. "What does this mean? They're gone.... Florence--"
Certainly, unlikely though it seemed, he had hitherto supposed that
Sauverand possessed a false key to the lock. But how could they both have
escaped, in the midst of the detectives? He looked around him. And then
he understood.
In the recess containing the window, the lower part of the wall, which
formed a very wide box underneath the casement, had the top of its
woodwork raised and resting against the panes, exactly like the lid of a
chest. And inside the open chest he saw the upper rungs of a narrow
descending ladder.
In a second, Don Luis conjured up the whole story of the past: Count
Malonyi's ancestress hiding in the old family mansion, escaping the
search of the perquisitors, and in this way living throughout the
revolutionary troubles. Everything was explained. A passage contrived in
the thickness of the wall led to some distant outlet. And this was how
Florence used to come and go through the house; this was how Gaston went
in and out in all security; and this also was how both of them were able
to enter his room and surprise his secrets.
"Why not have told me?" he wondered. "A lingering suspicion, I suppose--"
But his eyes were attracted by a sheet of paper on the table. With
a feverish hand, Gaston Sauverand had scribbled the following lines
in pencil:
"We are trying to escape so as not to compromise you. If we are caught,
it can't be helped. The great thing is that you should be free. All our
hopes are centred in you."