In spite of his usual facility for sleep, Don Luis slept for three hours
at most. He was racked with too much anxiety; and, though his plan of
conduct was worked out mathematically, he could not help foreseeing all
the obstacles which were likely to frustrate that plan. Of course, Weber
would speak to M. Desmalions. But would M. Desmalions telephone to
Valenglay?
"He is sure to telephone," Don Luis declared, stamping his foot. "It
doesn't let him in for anything. And at the same time, he would be
running a big risk if he refused, especially as Valenglay must have
been consulted about my arrest and is obviously kept informed of all
that happens."
He next asked himself what exactly Valenglay could do, once he was told.
For, after all, was it not too much to expect that the head of the
government, that the Prime Minister, should put himself out to obey the
injunctions and assist the schemes of M. Arsène Lupin?
"He will come!" he cried, with the same persistent confidence. "Valenglay
doesn't care a hang for form and ceremony and all that nonsense. He will
come, even if it is only out of curiosity, to learn what the Kaiser's
friend can have to say to him. Besides, he knows me! I am not one of
those beggars who inconvenience people for nothing. There's always
something to be gained by meeting me. He'll come!"
But another question at once presented itself to his mind. Valenglay's
coming in no way implied his consent to the bargain which Perenna meant
to propose to him. And even if Don Luis succeeded in convincing him, what
risks remained! How many doubtful points to overcome! And then the
possibilities of failure!
Would Weber pursue the fugitive's motor car with the necessary decision
and boldness? Would he get on the track again? And, having got on the
track, would he be certain not to lose it?
And then--and then, even supposing that all the chances were favourable,
was it not too late? Taking for granted that they hunted down the wild
beast, that they drove him to bay, would he not meanwhile have killed his
prey? Knowing himself beaten, would a monster of that kind hesitate to
add one more murder to the long list of his crimes?
And this, to Don Luis, was the crowning terror. After all the
difficulties which, in his stubbornly confident imagination, he had
managed to surmount, he was brought face to face with the horrible vision
of Florence being sacrificed, of Florence dead!
"Oh, the torture of it!" he stammered. "I alone could have succeeded; and
they shut me up!"
He hardly put himself out to inquire into the reasons for which M.
Desmalions, suddenly changing his mind, had consented to his arrest, thus
bringing back to life that troublesome Arsène Lupin with whom the police
had not hitherto cared to hamper themselves. No, that did not interest
him. Florence alone mattered. And the minutes passed; and each minute
wasted brought Florence nearer to her doom.
He remembered a similar occasion when, some years before, he waited in
the same way for the door of his cell to open and the German Emperor to
appear. But how much greater was the solemnity of the present moment!
Before, it was at the very most his liberty that was at stake. This time
it was Florence's life which fate was about to offer or refuse him.
"Florence! Florence!" he kept repeating, in his despair.
He no longer had a doubt of her innocence. Nor did he doubt that the
other loved her and had carried her off not so much for the hostage of
a coveted fortune as for a love spoil, which a man destroys if he
cannot keep it.
"Florence! Florence!"
He was suffering from an extraordinary fit of depression. His defeat
seemed irretrievable. There was no question of hastening after Florence,
of catching the murderer. Don Luis was in prison under his own name of
Arsène Lupin; and the whole problem lay in knowing how long he would
remain there, for months or for years!
It was then that he fully realized what his love for Florence meant. He
perceived that it took the place in his life of his former passions, his
craving for luxury, his desire for mastery, his pleasure in fighting, his
ambition, his revenge. For two months he had been struggling to win her
and for nothing else. The search after the truth and the punishment of
the criminal were to him no more than means of saving Florence from the
dangers that threatened her.
If Florence had to die, if it was too late to snatch her from the enemy,
in that case he might as well remain in prison. Arsène Lupin spending the
rest of his days in a convict settlement was a fitting end to the spoilt
life of a man who had not even been able to win the love of the only
woman he had really loved.
It was a passing mood and, being totally opposed to Don Luis's nature,
finished abruptly in a state of utter confidence which no longer admitted
the least particle of anxiety or doubt. The sun had risen. The cell
gradually became filled with daylight. And Don Luis remembered that
Valenglay reached his office on the Place Beauveau at seven o'clock in
the morning.
From this moment he felt absolutely calm. Coming events presented an
entirely different aspect to him, as though they had, so to speak, turned
right round. The contest seemed to him easy, the facts free from
complications. He understood as clearly as if the actions had been
performed that his will could not but be obeyed. The deputy chief must
inevitably have made a faithful report to the Prefect of Police. The
Prefect of Police must inevitably that morning have transmitted Arsène
Lupin's request to Valenglay.
Valenglay would inevitably give himself the pleasure of an interview with
Arsène Lupin. Arsène Lupin would inevitably, in the course of that
interview, obtain Valenglay's consent. These were not suppositions, but
certainties; not problems awaiting solution, but problems already solved.
Starting from A and continuing along B and C, you arrive, whether you
wish it or not, at D.
Don Luis began to laugh:
"Come, come, Arsène, old chap, remember that you brought Mr. Hohenzollern
all the way from his Brandenburg Marches. Valenglay does not live as far
as that, by Jove! And, if necessary, you can put yourself out a
little.... That's it: I'll consent to take the first step. I will go and
call on M. de Beauveau. M. Valenglay, it is a pleasure to see you."
He went gayly to the door, pretending that it was open and that he had
only to walk through to be received when his turn came.
He repeated this child's play three times, bowing low and long, as though
holding a plumed hat in his hand, and murmuring:
"Open sesame!"
At the fourth time, the door opened, and a warder appeared.
Don Luis said, in a ceremonious tone:
"I hope I have not kept the Prime Minister waiting?"
There were four inspectors in the corridor.
"Are these gentlemen my escort?" he asked. "That's right. Announce Arsène
Lupin, grandee of Spain, his most Catholic Majesty's cousin. My lords, I
follow you. Turnkey, here are twenty crowns for your pains, my friend."
He stopped in the corridor.
"By Jupiter, no gloves; and I haven't shaved since yesterday!"
The inspectors had surrounded him and were pushing him a little roughly.
He seized two of them by the arm. They groaned.
"That'll teach you," he said. "You've no orders to thrash me, have you?
Nor even to handcuff me? That being so, young fellows, behave!"
The prison governor was standing in the hall.
"I've had a capital night, my dear governor," said Don "Your C.T.C. rooms
are the very acme of comfort. I'll see that the Lockup Arms receives a
star in the 'Baedeker.' Would you like me to write you a testimonial in
your jail book? You wouldn't? Perhaps you hope to see me again? Sorry, my
dear governor, but it's impossible. I have other things to do."
A motor car was waiting in the yard. Don Luis stepped in with the four
detectives:
"Place Beauveau," he said to the driver.
"No, Rue Vineuse," said one of the detectives, correcting him.
"Oho!" said Don Luis. "His Excellency's private residence! His Excellency
prefers that my visit should be kept secret. That's a good sign. By the
way, dear friends, what's the time?"
His question remained unanswered. And as the detectives had drawn the
blinds, he was unable to consult the clocks in the street.
* * * * *
It was not until he was at Valenglay's, in the Prime Minister's little
ground-floor flat near the Trocadero, that he saw a clock on the
mantelpiece:
"A quarter to seven!" he exclaimed. "Good! There's not been much
time lost."
Valenglay's study opened on a flight of steps that ran down to a
garden filled with aviaries. The room itself was crammed with books
and pictures.
A bell rang, and the detectives went out, following the old maidservant
who had shown them in. Don Luis was left alone.
He was still calm, but nevertheless felt a certain uneasiness, a longing
to be up and doing, to throw himself into the fray; and his eyes kept on
involuntarily returning to the face of the clock. The minute hand seemed
endowed with extraordinary speed.
At last some one entered, ushering in a second person. Don Luis
recognized Valenglay and the Prefect of Police.
"That's it," he thought. "I've got him."
He saw this by the sort of vague sympathy perceptible on the old
Premier's lean and bony face. There was not a sign of arrogance, nothing
to raise a barrier between the Minister and the suspicious individual
whom he was receiving: just a manifest, playful curiosity and sympathy,
It was a sympathy which Valenglay had never concealed, and of which he
even boasted when, after Arsène Lupin's sham death, he spoke of the
adventurer and the strange relations between them.
"You have not changed," he said, after looking at him for some time.
"Complexion a little darker, a trifle grayer over the temples,
that's all."
And putting on a blunt tone, he asked:
"And what is it you want?"
"An answer first of all, Monsieur le Président du Conseil. Has Deputy
Chief Weber, who took me to the lockup last night, traced the motor cab
in which Florence Levasseur was carried off?"
"Yes, the motor stopped at Versailles. The persons inside it hired
another cab which is to take them to Nantes. What else do you ask for,
besides that answer?"
"My liberty, Monsieur le Président."
"At once, of course?" said Valenglay, beginning to laugh.
"In thirty or thirty-five minutes at most."
"At half-past seven, eh?"
"Half-past seven at latest, Monsieur le Président."
"And why your liberty?"
"To catch the murderer of Cosmo Mornington, of Inspector Vérot, and of
the Roussel family."
"Are you the only one that can catch him?"
"Yes."
"Still, the police are moving. The wires are at work. The murderer will
not leave France. He shan't escape us."
"You can't find him."
"Yes, we can."
"In that case he will kill Florence Levasseur. She will be the
scoundrel's seventh victim. And it will be your doing."
Valenglay paused for a moment and then resumed:
"According to you, contrary to all appearances, and contrary to the
well-grounded suspicions of Monsieur le Préfet de Police, Florence
Levasseur is innocent?"
"Oh, absolutely, Monsieur le Président!"
"And you believe her to be in danger of death?"
"She is in danger of death."
"Are you in love with her?"
"I am."
Valenglay experienced a little thrill of enjoyment. Lupin in love! Lupin
acting through love and confessing his love! But how exciting!
He said:
"I have followed the Mornington case from day to day and I know every
detail of it. You have done wonders, Monsieur. It is evident that, but
for you, the case would never have emerged from the mystery that
surrounded it at the start. But I cannot help noticing that there are
certain flaws in it.
"These flaws, which astonished me on your part, are more easy to
understand when we know that love was the primary motive and the object
of your actions. On the other hand, and in spite of what you say,
Florence Levasseur's conduct, her claims as the heiress, her unexpected
escape from the hospital, leave little doubt in our minds as to the part
which she is playing."
Don Luis pointed to the clock:
"Monsieur le Ministre, it is getting late."
Valenglay burst out laughing.
"I never met any one like you! Don Luis Perenna, I am sorry that I am not
some absolute monarch. I should make you the head of my secret police."
"A post which the German Emperor has already offered me."
"Oh, nonsense!"
"And I refused it."
Valenglay laughed heartily; but the clock struck seven. Don Luis began to
grow anxious. Valenglay sat down and, coming straight to the point, said,
in a serious voice:
"Don Luis Perenna, on the first day of your reappearance--that is to
say, at the very moment of the murders on the Boulevard Suchet--Monsieur
le Préfet de Police and I made up our minds as to your identity. Perenna
was Lupin.
"I have no doubt that you understood the reason why we did not wish to
bring back to life the dead man that you were, and why we granted you a
sort of protection. Monsieur le Préfet de Police was entirely of my
opinion. The work which you were pursuing was a salutary work of justice;
and your assistance was so valuable to us that we strove to spare you any
sort of annoyance. As Don Luis Perenna was fighting the good fight, we
left Arsène Lupin in the background. Unfortunately--"
Valenglay paused again and declared:
"Unfortunately, Monsieur le Préfet de Police last night received a
denunciation, supported by detailed proofs, accusing you of being
Arsène Lupin."
"Impossible!" cried Don Luis. "That is a statement which no one is able
to prove by material evidence. Arsène Lupin is dead."
"If you like," Valenglay agreed. "But that does not show that Don Luis
Perenna is alive."
"Don Luis Perenna has a duly legalized existence, Monsieur le President."
"Perhaps. But it is disputed."
"By whom? There is only one man who would have the right; and to accuse
me would be his own undoing. I cannot believe him to be stupid enough--"
"Stupid enough, no; but crafty enough, yes."
"You mean Caceres, the Peruvian attaché?"
"Yes."
"But he is abroad!"
"More than that: he is a fugitive from justice, after embezzling the
funds of his legation. But before leaving the country he signed a
statement that reached us yesterday evening, declaring that he faked up a
complete record for you under the name of Don Luis Perenna. Here is your
correspondence with him and here are all the papers establishing the
truth of his allegations. Any one will be convinced, on examining them,
first, that you are not Don Luis Perenna, and, secondly, that you are
Arsène Lupin."
Don Luis made an angry gesture.
"That blackguard of a Caceres is a mere tool," he snarled. "The other
man's behind him, has paid him, and is controlling his actions. It's the
scoundrel himself; I recognize his touch. He has once more tried to get
rid of me at the decisive moment."
"I am quite willing to believe it," said the Prime Minister. "But as all
these documents, according to the letter that came with them, are only
photographs, and as, if you are not arrested this morning, the originals
are to be handed to a leading Paris newspaper to-night, we are obliged to
take note of the accusation."
"But, Monsieur le Président," exclaimed Don Luis, "as Caceres is abroad
and as the scoundrel who bought the papers of him was also obliged to
take to flight before he was able to execute his threats, there is no
fear now that the documents will be handed to the press."
"How do we know? The enemy must have taken his precautions. He may have
accomplices."
"He has none."
"How do we know?"
Don Luis looked at Valenglay and said:
"What is it that you really wish to say, Monsieur le Président?"
"I will tell you. Although pressure was brought to bear upon us by
Caceres's threats, Monsieur le Préfet de Police, anxious to see all
possible light shed on the plot played by Florence Levasseur, did not
interfere with your last night's expedition. As that expedition led to
nothing, he determined, at any rate, to profit by the fact that Don Luis
had placed himself at our disposal and to arrest Arsène Lupin.
"If we now let him go the documents will certainly be published; and
you can see the absurd and ridiculous position in which that will place
us in the eyes of the public. Well, at this very moment, you ask for
the release of Arsène Lupin, a release which would be illegal, uncalled
for, and inexcusable. I am obliged, therefore, to refuse it, and I do
refuse it."
He ceased; and then, after a few seconds, he added:
"Unless--"
"Unless?" asked Don Luis.
"Unless--and this is what I wanted to say--unless you offer me in
exchange something so extraordinary and so tremendous that I could
consent to risk the annoyance which the absurd release of Arsène Lupin
would bring down upon my head."
"But, Monsieur le President, surely, if I bring you the real criminal,
the murderer of--"
"I don't need your assistance for that."
"And if I give you my word of honour, Monsieur le Président, to return
the moment my task is done and give myself up?"
Valenglay struck the table with his fist and, raising his voice,
addressed Don Luis with a certain genial familiarity:
"Come, Arsène Lupin," he said, "play the game! If you really want to have
your way, pay for it! Hang it all, remember that after all this business,
and especially after the incidents of last night, you and Florence
Levasseur will be to the public what you already are: the responsible
actors in the tragedy; nay, more, the real and only criminals. And it is
now, when Florence Levasseur has taken to her heels, that you come and
ask me for your liberty! Very well, but damn it, set a price to it and
don't haggle with me!"
"I am not haggling, Monsieur le Président," declared Don Luis, in a very
straightforward manner and tone. "What I have to offer you is certainly
much more extraordinary and tremendous than you imagine. But if it were
twice as extraordinary and twice as tremendous, it would not count once
Florence Levasseur's life is in danger. Nevertheless, I was entitled to
try for a less expensive transaction. Of this your words remove all hope.
I will therefore lay my cards upon the table, as you demand, and as I had
made up my mind to do."
He sat down opposite Valenglay, in the attitude of a man treating with
another on equal terms.
"I shall not be long. A single sentence, Monsieur le President,
will express the bargain which I am proposing to the Prime Minister
of my country."
And, looking Valenglay straight in the eyes, he said slowly, syllable
by syllable:
"In exchange for twenty-four hours' liberty and no more, undertaking on
my honour to return here to-morrow morning and to return here either with
Florence, to give you every proof of her innocence, or without her, to
constitute myself a prisoner, I offer you--"
He took his time and, in a serious voice, concluded:
"I offer you a kingdom, Monsieur le Président du Conseil."
The sentence sounded bombastic and ludicrous, sounded silly enough to
provoke a shrug of the shoulders, sounded like one of those sentences
which only an imbecile or a lunatic could utter. And yet Valenglay
remained impassive. He knew that, in such circumstances as the present,
the man before him was not the man to indulge in jesting.
And he knew it so fully that, instinctively, accustomed as he was to
momentous political questions in which secrecy is of the utmost
importance, he cast a glance toward the Prefect of Police, as though M.
Desmalions's presence in the room hindered him.
"I positively insist," said Don Luis, "that Monsieur le Préfet de Police
shall stay and hear what I have to say. He is better able than any one
else to appreciate the value of it; and he will bear witness to its
correctness in certain particulars."
"Speak!" said Valenglay.
His curiosity knew no bounds. He did not much care whether Don Luis's
proposal could have any practical results. In his heart he did not
believe in it. But what he wanted to know was the lengths to which that
demon of audacity was prepared to go, and on what new prodigious
adventure he based the pretensions which he was putting forward so calmly
and frankly.
Don Luis smiled:
"Will you allow me?" he asked.
Rising and going to the mantelpiece, he took down from the wall a
small map representing Northwest Africa. He spread it on the table,
placed different objects on the four corners to hold it in position,
and resumed:
"There is one matter, Monsieur le Président, which puzzled Monsieur le
Préfet de Police and about which I know that he caused inquiries to be
made; and that matter is how I employed my time, or, rather, how Arsène
Lupin employed his time during the last three years of his service with
the Foreign Legion."
"Those inquiries were made by my orders," said Valenglay.
"And they led--?"
"To nothing."
"So that you do not know what I did during my captivity?"
"Just so."
"I will tell you, Monsieur le Président. It will not take me long."
Don Luis pointed with a pencil to a spot in Morocco marked on the map.
"It was here that I was taken prisoner on the twenty-fourth of July. My
capture seemed queer to Monsieur le Préfet de Police and to all who
subsequently heard the details of the incident. They were astonished that
I should have been foolish enough to get caught in ambush and to allow
myself to be trapped by a troop of forty Berber horse. Their surprise is
justified. My capture was a deliberate move on my part.
"You will perhaps remember, Monsieur le Président, that I enlisted in the
Foreign Legion after making a fruitless attempt to kill myself in
consequence of some really terrible private disasters. I wanted to die,
and I thought that a Moorish bullet would give me the final rest for
which I longed.
"Fortune did not permit it. My destiny, it seemed, was not yet fulfilled.
Then what had to be was. Little by little, unknown to myself, the thought
of death vanished and I recovered my love of life. A few rather striking
feats of arms had given me back all my self-confidence and all my desire
for action.
"New dreams seized hold of me. I fell a victim to a new ideal. From day
to day I needed more space, greater independence, wider horizons, more
unforeseen and personal sensations. The Legion, great as my affection was
for the plucky fellows who had welcomed me so cordially, was no longer
enough to satisfy my craving for activity.
"One day, without thinking much about it, in a blind prompting of my
whole being toward a great adventure which I did not clearly see, but
which attracted me in a mysterious fashion, one day, finding myself
surrounded by a band of the enemy, though still in a position to fight, I
allowed myself to be captured.
"That is the whole story, Monsieur le Président. As a prisoner, I was
free. A new life opened before me. However, the incident nearly turned
out badly. My three dozen Berbers, a troop detached from an important
nomad tribe that used to pillage and put to ransom the districts lying on
the middle chains of the Atlas Range, first galloped back to the little
cluster of tents where the wives of their chiefs were encamped under the
guard of some ten men. They packed off at once; and, after a week's march
which I found pretty arduous, for I was on foot, with my hands tied
behind my back, following a mounted party, they stopped on a narrow
upland commanded by rocky slopes and covered with skeletons mouldering
among the stones and with remains of French swords and other weapons.
"Here they planted a stake in the ground and fastened me to it. I
gathered from the behaviour of my captors and from a few words which I
overheard that my death was decided on. They meant to cut off my ears,
nose, and tongue, and then my head.
"However, they began by preparing their repast. They went to a well close
by, ate and drank and took no further notice of me except to laugh at me
and describe the various treats they held in store for me.... Another
night passed. The torture was postponed until the morning, a time that
suited them better. At break of day they crowded round me, uttering yells
and shouts with which were mingled the shrill cries of the women.
"When my shadow covered a line which they had marked on the sand the
night before, they ceased their din, and one of them, who was to perform
the surgical operations prescribed for me, stepped forward and ordered me
to put out my tongue. I did so. He took hold of it with a corner of his
burnous and, with his other hand, drew his dagger from its sheath.
"I shall never forget the ferocity, coupled with ingenuous delight, of
his expression, which was like that of a mischievous boy amusing himself
by breaking a bird's wings and legs. Nor shall I ever forget the man's
stupefaction when he saw that his dagger no longer consisted of anything
but the pommel and a harmless and ridiculously small stump of the blade,
just long enough to keep it in its sheath. His fury was revealed by a
splutter of curses and he at once rushed at one of his friends and
snatched his dagger from him.
"The same stupefaction followed: this dagger was also broken off at the
hilt. The next thing was a general tumult, in which one and all
brandished their knives. But all of them uttered howls of rage.
"There were forty-five men there; and their forty-five knives were
smashed.... The chief flew at me as if holding me responsible for this
incomprehensible phenomenon. He was a tall, lean old man, slightly
hunchbacked, blind of one eye, hideous to look upon. He aimed a huge
pistol point blank at my head and he struck me as so ugly that I burst
out laughing in his face. He pulled the trigger. The pistol missed fire.
He pulled it again. The pistol again missed fire....
"All of them at once began to dance around the stake to which I was
fastened. Gesticulating wildly, hustling one another and roaring like
thunder, they levelled their various firearms at me: muskets, pistols,
carbines, old Spanish blunderbusses. The hammers clicked. But the
muskets, pistols, carbines, and blunderbusses did not go off!
"It was a regular miracle. You should have seen their faces. I never
laughed so much in my life; and this completed their bewilderment.
"Some ran to the tents for more powder. Others hurriedly reloaded their
arms, only to meet with fresh failure, while I did nothing but laugh and
laugh! The thing could not go on indefinitely. There were plenty of other
means of doing away with me. They had their hands to strangle me with,
the butt ends of their muskets to smash my head with, pebbles to stone me
with. And there were over forty of them!
"The old chief picked up a bulky stone and stepped toward me, his
features distorted with hatred. He raised himself to his full height,
lifted the huge block, with the assistance of two of his men, above my
head and dropped it--in front of me, on the stake! It was a staggering
sight for the poor old man. I had, in one second, unfastened my bonds and
sprung backward; and I was standing at three paces from him, with my
hands outstretched before me, and holding in those outstretched hands the
two revolvers which had been taken from me on the day of my capture!
"What followed was the business of a few seconds. The chief now began
to laugh as I had laughed, sarcastically. To his mind, in the disorder
of his brain, those two revolvers with which I threatened him could
have no more effect than the useless weapons which had spared my life.
He took up a large pebble and raised his hand to hurl it at my face.
His two assistants did the same. And all the others were prepared to
follow his example.
"'Hands down!' I cried, 'or I fire!' The chief let fly his stone. At the
same moment three shots rang out. The chief and his two men fell dead to
the ground. 'Who's next?' I asked, looking round the band.
"Forty-two Moors remained. I had eleven bullets left. As none of the men
budged, I slipped one of my revolvers under my arm and took from my
pocket two small boxes of cartridges containing fifty more bullets. And
from my belt I drew three great knives, all of them nicely tapering and
pointed. Half of the troop made signs of submission and drew up in line
behind me. The other half capitulated a moment after. The battle was
over. It had not lasted four minutes."