“Hallo! I want to speak to Chief Inspector Béchoux!”
It was Barnett’s voice on the line.
“Inspector Béchoux speaking,” replied Béchoux coldly. “Is that some one
trying to be funny?”
“Oh, Béchoux, don’t tell me you haven’t recognized my voice. After all
this while! And I thought you loved me!”
“Oh, it’s you, Barnett? Well, if you’re just fooling, you may as well
ring off. I’m busy.”
“But I’ve good news for you, old chap!” Barnett’s tone grew distinctly
plaintive.
Inspector Béchoux thawed a trifle.
“What is it, then?” he asked.
“Although you failed to get Arsène Lupin as you swore you would, or to
get that photograph as per instructions, yet Fate smiles on you. Isn’t
it lovely? I’ve put in such a good word for you with the people higher
up, and shown them so clearly what remarkable services you rendered to
the cause of justice in that Desroques case, that they are going to
appoint you a Chief Inspector. Oh, don’t thank me! Merely a trifling
mark of my esteem. From Barnett to Béchoux, as it were, in memory of
many happy days. And now at last my conscience is at rest, for you,
too, have reaped the fruit of our alliance in those adventures where I
was privileged to intervene!”
And Béchoux felt oddly pleased that his promotion, albeit well
deserved, should have come through Barnett. He reflected that it took a
man like Barnett to make a vast organization like the police force
recognize the merits of one of the minor cogs in the machine.
Nevertheless he had no doubts at all of the altogether special merits
of one Inspector Béchoux and his eminent suitability for promotion!
Therefore it was in a spirit of unfeigned and unclouded gratitude, but
not altogether of surprise, that he answered now:
“Thank you, thank you, Barnett. The appointment will mean twice as much
to me, coming as it does through you!”
Inspector Béchoux had set out to arrest Arsène Lupin—and had ended by
becoming himself a prisoner of Jim Barnett’s brains!