manner, "for nearly a hundred years, the heirs of Charles and Pauline
d'Ernemont have kept up the pilgrimage of the 15th of April. During the
first few years they made the most thorough excavations. Every inch of
the garden was searched, every clod of ground dug up. All this is now
over. They take hardly any pains. All they do is, from time to time, for
no particular reason, to turn over a stone or explore the well. For the
most part, they are content to sit down on the steps of the rotunda,
like the poor madman; and, like him, they wait. And that, you see, is
the sad part of their destiny. In those hundred years, all these people
who have succeeded one another, from father to son, have lost--what
shall I say?--the energy of life. They have no courage left, no
initiative. They wait. They wait for the 15th of April; and, when the
15th of April comes, they wait for a miracle to take place. Poverty has
ended by overtaking every one of them. My predecessors and I have sold
first the house, in order to build another which yields a better rent,
followed by bits of the garden and further bits. But, as to that corner
over there," pointing to the picture, "they would rather die than sell
it. On this they are all agreed: Louise d'Ernemont, who is the direct
heiress of Pauline, as well as the beggars, the workman, the footman,
the circus-rider and so on, who represent the unfortunate Charles."
There was a fresh pause; and Lupin asked:
"What is your own opinion, Maitre Valandier?"
"My private opinion is that there's nothing in it. What credit can we
give to the statements of an old servant enfeebled by age? What
importance can we attach to the crotchets of a madman? Besides, if the
farmer-general had realized his fortune, don't you think that that
fortune would have been found? One could manage to hide a paper, a
document, in a confined space like that, but not treasures."
"Still, the pictures?..."
"Yes, of course. But, after all, are they a sufficient proof?"
Lupin bent over the copy which the solicitor had taken from the cupboard
and, after examining it at length, said:
"You spoke of three pictures."
"Yes, the one which you see was handed to my predecessor by the heirs of
Charles. Louise d'Ernemont possesses another. As for the third, no one
knows what became of it."
Lupin looked at me and continued:
"And do they all bear the same date?"
"Yes, the date inscribed by Charles d'Ernemont when he had them framed,
not long before his death.... The same date, that is to say the 15th of
April, Year II, according to the revolutionary calendar, as the arrest
took place in April, 1794."
"Oh, yes, of course," said Lupin. "The figure 2 means...."
He thought for a few moments and resumed:
"One more question, if I may. Did no one ever come forward to solve the
problem?"
Maitre Valandier threw up his arms:
"Goodness gracious me!" he cried. "Why, it was the plague of the office!
One of my predecessors, Maitre Turbon, was summoned to Passy no fewer
than eighteen times, between 1820 and 1843, by the groups of heirs, whom
fortune-tellers, clairvoyants, visionaries, impostors of all sorts had
promised that they would discover the farmer-general's treasures. At
last, we laid down a rule: any outsider applying to institute a search
was to begin by depositing a certain sum."
"What sum?"
"A thousand francs."
"And did this have the effect of frightening them off?"
"No. Four years ago, an Hungarian hypnotist tried the experiment and
made me waste a whole day. After that, we fixed the deposit at five
thousand francs. In case of success, a third of the treasure goes to the
finder. In case of failure, the deposit is forfeited to the heirs. Since
then, I have been left in peace."
"Here are your five thousand francs."
The lawyer gave a start:
"Eh? What do you say?"
"I say," repeated Lupin, taking five bank-notes from his pocket and
calmly spreading them on the table, "I say that here is the deposit of
five thousand francs. Please give me a receipt and invite all the
d'Ernemont heirs to meet me at Passy on the 15th of April next year."
The notary could not believe his senses. I myself, although Lupin had
accustomed me to these surprises, was utterly taken back.
"Are you serious?" asked Maitre Valandier.
"Perfectly serious."
"But, you know, I told you my opinion. All these improbable stories rest
upon no evidence of any kind."
"I don't agree with you," said Lupin.
The notary gave him the look which we give to a person who is not quite
right in his head. Then, accepting the situation, he took his pen and
drew up a contract on stamped paper, acknowledging the payment of the
deposit by Captain Jeanniot and promising him a third of such moneys as
he should discover:
"If you change your mind," he added, "you might let me know a week
before the time comes. I shall not inform the d'Ernemont family until
the last moment, so as not to give those poor people too long a spell of
hope."
"You can inform them this very day, Maitre Valandier. It will make them
spend a happier year."
We said good-bye. Outside, in the street, I cried:
"So you have hit upon something?"
"I?" replied Lupin. "Not a bit of it! And that's just what amuses me."
"But they have been searching for a hundred years!"
"It is not so much a matter of searching as of thinking. Now I have
three hundred and sixty-five days to think in. It is a great deal more
than I want; and I am afraid that I shall forget all about the business,
interesting though it may be. Oblige me by reminding me, will you?"
* * * * *
I reminded him of it several times during the following months, though
he never seemed to attach much importance to the matter. Then came a
long period during which I had no opportunity of seeing him. It was the
period, as I afterward learnt, of his visit to Armenia and of the
terrible struggle on which he embarked against Abdul the Damned, a
struggle which ended in the tyrant's downfall.
I used to write to him, however, at the address which he gave me and I
was thus able to send him certain particulars which I had succeeded in
gathering, here and there, about my neighbour Louise d'Ernemont, such as
the love which she had conceived, a few years earlier, for a very rich
young man, who still loved her, but who had been compelled by his family
to throw her over; the young widow's despair, and the plucky life which
she led with her little daughter.
Lupin replied to none of my letters. I did not know whether they reached
him; and, meantime, the date was drawing near and I could not help
wondering whether his numerous undertakings would not prevent him from
keeping the appointment which he himself had fixed.
As a matter of fact, the morning of the 15th of April arrived and Lupin
was not with me by the time I had finished lunch. It was a quarter-past
twelve. I left my flat and took a cab to Passy.
I had no sooner entered the lane than I saw the workman's four brats
standing outside the door in the wall. Maitre Valandier, informed by
them of my arrival, hastened in my direction:
"Well?" he cried. "Where's Captain Jeanniot?"
"Hasn't he come?"
"No; and I can assure you that everybody is very impatient to see him."
The different groups began to crowd round the lawyer; and I noticed that
all those faces which I recognized had thrown off the gloomy and
despondent expression which they wore a year ago.
"They are full of hope," said Maitre Valandier, "and it is my fault. But
what could I do? Your friend made such an impression upon me that I
spoke to these good people with a confidence ... which I cannot say I
feel. However, he seems a queer sort of fellow, this Captain Jeanniot of
yours...."
He asked me many questions and I gave him a number of more or less
fanciful details about the captain, to which the heirs listened, nodding
their heads in appreciation of my remarks.
"Of course, the truth was bound to be discovered sooner or later," said
the fat gentleman, in a tone of conviction.
The infantry corporal, dazzled by the captain's rank, did not entertain
a doubt in his mind.
The lady with the little dog wanted to know if Captain Jeanniot was
young.
But Louise d'Ernemont said:
"And suppose he does not come?"
"We shall still have the five thousand francs to divide," said the
beggar-man.
For all that, Louise d'Ernemont's words had damped their enthusiasm.
Their faces began to look sullen and I felt an atmosphere as of anguish
weighing upon us.
At half-past one, the two lean sisters felt faint and sat down. Then the
fat gentleman in the soiled suit suddenly rounded on the notary:
"It's you, Maitre Valandier, who are to blame.... You ought to have
brought the captain here by main force.... He's a humbug, that's quite
clear."
He gave me a savage look, and the footman, in his turn, flung muttered
curses at me.
I confess that their reproaches seemed to me well-founded and that
Lupin's absence annoyed me greatly:
"He won't come now," I whispered to the lawyer.
And I was thinking of beating a retreat, when the eldest of the brats
appeared at the door, yelling:
"There's some one coming!... A motor-cycle!..."
A motor was throbbing on the other side of the wall. A man on a
motor-bicycle came tearing down the lane at the risk of breaking his
neck. Suddenly, he put on his brakes, outside the door, and sprang from
his machine.
Under the layer of dust which covered him from head to foot, we could
see that his navy-blue reefer-suit, his carefully creased trousers, his
black felt hat and patent-leather boots were not the clothes in which a
man usually goes cycling.
"But that's not Captain Jeanniot!" shouted the notary, who failed to
recognize him.
"Yes, it is," said Lupin, shaking hands with us. "I'm Captain Jeanniot
right enough ... only I've shaved off my moustache.... Besides, Maitre
Valandier, here's your receipt."
He caught one of the workman's children by the arm and said:
"Run to the cab-rank and fetch a taxi to the corner of the Rue
Raynouard. Look sharp! I have an urgent appointment to keep at two
o'clock, or a quarter-past at the latest."
There was a murmur of protest. Captain Jeanniot took out his watch:
"Well! It's only twelve minutes to two! I have a good quarter of an hour
before me. But, by Jingo, how tired I feel! And how hungry into the
bargain!"
The corporal thrust his ammunition-bread into Lupin's hand; and he
munched away at it as he sat down and said:
"You must forgive me. I was in the Marseilles express, which left the
rails between Dijon and Laroche. There were twelve people killed and any
number injured, whom I had to help. Then I found this motor-cycle in the
luggage-van.... Maitre Valandier, you must be good enough to restore it
to the owner. You will find the label fastened to the handle-bar. Ah,
you're back, my boy! Is the taxi there? At the corner of the Rue
Raynouard? Capital!"
He looked at his watch again:
"Hullo! No time to lose!"
I stared at him with eager curiosity. But how great must the excitement
of the d'Ernemont heirs have been! True, they had not the same faith in
Captain Jeanniot that I had in Lupin. Nevertheless, their faces were
pale and drawn. Captain Jeanniot turned slowly to the left and walked up
to the sun-dial. The pedestal represented the figure of a man with a
powerful torso, who bore on his shoulders a marble slab the surface of
which had been so much worn by time that we could hardly distinguish the
engraved lines that marked the hours. Above the slab, a Cupid, with
outspread wings, held an arrow that served as a gnomon.
The captain stood leaning forward for a minute, with attentive eyes.
Then he said:
"Somebody lend me a knife, please."
A clock in the neighbourhood struck two. At that exact moment, the
shadow of the arrow was thrown upon the sunlit dial along the line of a
crack in the marble which divided the slab very nearly in half.
The captain took the knife handed to him. And with the point, very
gently, he began to scratch the mixture of earth and moss that filled
the narrow cleft.
Almost immediately, at a couple of inches from the edge, he stopped, as
though his knife had encountered an obstacle, inserted his thumb and
forefinger and withdrew a small object which he rubbed between the palms
of his hands and gave to the lawyer:
"Here, Maitre Valandier. Something to go on with."
It was an enormous diamond, the size of a hazelnut and beautifully cut.
The captain resumed his work. The next moment, a fresh stop. A second
diamond, magnificent and brilliant as the first, appeared in sight.
And then came a third and a fourth.
In a minute's time, following the crack from one edge to the other and
certainly without digging deeper than half an inch, the captain had
taken out eighteen diamonds of the same size.
During this minute, there was not a cry, not a movement around the
sun-dial. The heirs seemed paralyzed with a sort of stupor. Then the fat
gentleman muttered:
"Geminy!"
And the corporal moaned:
"Oh, captain!... Oh, captain!..."
The two sisters fell in a dead faint. The lady with the little dog
dropped on her knees and prayed, while the footman, staggering like a
drunken man, held his head in his two hands, and Louise d'Ernemont wept.
When calm was restored and all became eager to thank Captain Jeanniot,
they saw that he was gone.
* * * * *
Some years passed before I had an opportunity of talking to Lupin about
this business. He was in a confidential vein and answered:
"The business of the eighteen diamonds? By Jove, when I think that three
or four generations of my fellow-men had been hunting for the solution!
And the eighteen diamonds were there all the time, under a little mud
and dust!"
"But how did you guess?..."
"I did not guess. I reflected. I doubt if I need even have reflected.
I was struck, from the beginning, by the fact that the whole
circumstance was governed by one primary question: the question of time.
When Charles d'Ernemont was still in possession of his wits, he wrote a
date upon the three pictures. Later, in the gloom in which he was
struggling, a faint glimmer of intelligence led him every year to the
centre of the old garden; and the same faint glimmer led him away from
it every year at the same moment, that is to say, at twenty-seven
minutes past five. Something must have acted on the disordered machinery
of his brain in this way. What was the superior force that controlled
the poor madman's movements? Obviously, the instinctive notion of time
represented by the sun-dial in the farmer-general's pictures. It was the
annual revolution of the earth around the sun that brought Charles
d'Ernemont back to the garden at a fixed date. And it was the earth's
daily revolution upon its own axis that took him from it at a fixed
hour, that is to say, at the hour, most likely, when the sun, concealed
by objects different from those of to-day, ceased to light the Passy
garden. Now of all this the sun-dial was the symbol. And that is why I
at once knew where to look."
"But how did you settle the hour at which to begin looking?"
"Simply by the pictures. A man living at that time, such as Charles
d'Ernemont, would have written either 26 Germinal, Year II, or else 15
April, 1794, but not 15 April, Year II. I was astounded that no one had
thought of that."
"Then the figure 2 stood for two o'clock?"
"Evidently. And what must have happened was this: the farmer-general
began by turning his fortune into solid gold and silver money. Then, by
way of additional precaution, with this gold and silver he bought
eighteen wonderful diamonds. When he was surprised by the arrival of the
patrol, he fled into his garden. Which was the best place to hide the
diamonds? Chance caused his eyes to light upon the sun-dial. It was two
o'clock. The shadow of the arrow was then falling along the crack in the
marble. He obeyed this sign of the shadow, rammed his eighteen diamonds
into the dust and calmly went back and surrendered to the soldiers."
"But the shadow of the arrow coincides with the crack in the marble
every day of the year and not only on the 15th of April."
"You forget, my dear chap, that we are dealing with a lunatic and that
he remembered only this date of the 15th of April."
"Very well; but you, once you had solved the riddle, could easily have
made your way into the enclosure and taken the diamonds."
"Quite true; and I should not have hesitated, if I had had to do with
people of another description. But I really felt sorry for those poor
wretches. And then you know the sort of idiot that Lupin is. The idea of
appearing suddenly as a benevolent genius and amazing his kind would be
enough to make him commit any sort of folly."
"Tah!" I cried. "The folly was not so great as all that. Six magnificent
diamonds! How delighted the d'Ernemont heirs must have been to fulfil
their part of the contract!"
Lupin looked at me and burst into uncontrollable laughter:
"So you haven't heard? Oh, what a joke! The delight of the d'Ernemont
heirs!.... Why, my dear fellow, on the next day, that worthy Captain
Jeanniot had so many mortal enemies! On the very next day, the two lean
sisters and the fat gentleman organized an opposition. A contract? Not
worth the paper it was written on, because, as could easily be proved,
there was no such person as Captain Jeanniot. Where did that adventurer
spring from? Just let him sue them and they'd soon show him what was
what!"
"Louise d'Ernemont too?"
"No, Louise d'Ernemont protested against that piece of rascality. But
what could she do against so many? Besides, now that she was rich, she
got back her young man. I haven't heard of her since."
"So ...?"
"So, my dear fellow, I was caught in a trap, with not a leg to stand on,
and I had to compromise and accept one modest diamond as my share, the
smallest and the least handsome of the lot. That comes of doing one's
best to help people!"
And Lupin grumbled between his teeth:
"Oh, gratitude!... All humbug!... Where should we honest men be if we
had not our conscience and the satisfaction of duty performed to reward
us?"
IV
THE INFERNAL TRAP
When the race was over, a crowd of people, streaming toward the exit
from the grand stand, pushed against Nicolas Dugrival. He brought his
hand smartly to the inside pocket of his jacket.
"What's the matter?" asked his wife.
"I still feel nervous ... with that money on me! I'm afraid of some
nasty accident."
She muttered:
"And I can't understand you. How can you think of carrying such a sum
about with you? Every farthing we possess! Lord knows, it cost us
trouble enough to earn!"
"Pooh!" he said. "No one would guess that it is here, in my
pocket-book."
"Yes, yes," she grumbled. "That young man-servant whom we discharged
last week knew all about it, didn't he, Gabriel?"
"Yes, aunt," said a youth standing beside her.
Nicolas Dugrival, his wife and his nephew Gabriel were well-known
figures at the race-meetings, where the regular frequenters saw them
almost every day: Dugrival, a big, fat, red-faced man, who looked as if
he knew how to enjoy life; his wife, also built on heavy lines, with a
coarse, vulgar face, and always dressed in a plum-coloured silk much the
worse for wear; the nephew, quite young, slender, with pale features,
dark eyes and fair and rather curly hair.
As a rule, the couple remained seated throughout the afternoon. It was
Gabriel who betted for his uncle, watching the horses in the paddock,
picking up tips to right and left among the jockeys and stable-lads,
running backward and forward between the stands and the _pari-mutuel_.
Luck had favoured them that day, for, three times, Dugrival's neighbours
saw the young man come back and hand him money.
The fifth race was just finishing. Dugrival lit a cigar. At that moment,
a gentleman in a tight-fitting brown suit, with a face ending in a
peaked grey beard, came up to him and asked, in a confidential whisper:
"Does this happen to belong to you, sir?"
And he displayed a gold watch and chain.
Dugrival gave a start:
"Why, yes ... it's mine.... Look, here are my initials, N. G.: Nicolas
Dugrival!"
And he at once, with a movement of terror, clapped his hand to his
jacket-pocket. The note-case was still there.
"Ah," he said, greatly relieved, "that's a piece of luck!... But, all
the same, how on earth was it done?... Do you know the scoundrel?"
"Yes, we've got him locked up. Pray come with me and we'll soon look
into the matter."
"Whom have I the honour ...?"
"M. Delangle, detective-inspector. I have sent to let M. Marquenne, the
magistrate, know."
Nicolas Dugrival went out with the inspector; and the two of them
started for the commissary's office, some distance behind the grand
stand. They were within fifty yards of it, when the inspector was
accosted by a man who said to him, hurriedly:
"The fellow with the watch has blabbed; we are on the tracks of a whole
gang. M. Marquenne wants you to wait for him at the _pari-mutuel_ and to
keep a look-out near the fourth booth."
There was a crowd outside the betting-booths and Inspector Delangle
muttered:
"It's an absurd arrangement.... Whom am I to look out for?... That's
just like M. Marquenne!..."
He pushed aside a group of people who were crowding too close upon him:
"By Jove, one has to use one's elbows here and keep a tight hold on
one's purse. That's the way you got your watch pinched, M. Dugrival!"
"I can't understand...."
"Oh, if you knew how those gentry go to work! One never guesses what
they're up to next. One of them treads on your foot, another gives you a
poke in the eye with his stick and the third picks your pocket before
you know where you are.... I've been had that way myself." He stopped
and then continued, angrily. "But, bother it, what's the use of hanging
about here! What a mob! It's unbearable!... Ah, there's M. Marquenne
making signs to us!... One moment, please ... and be sure and wait for
me here."
He shouldered his way through the crowd. Nicolas Dugrival followed him
for a moment with his eyes. Once the inspector was out of sight, he
stood a little to one side, to avoid being hustled.
A few minutes passed. The sixth race was about to start, when Dugrival
saw his wife and nephew looking for him. He explained to them that
Inspector Delangle was arranging matters with the magistrate.
"Have you your money still?" asked his wife.
"Why, of course I have!" he replied. "The inspector and I took good
care, I assure you, not to let the crowd jostle us."
He felt his jacket, gave a stifled cry, thrust his hand into his pocket
and began to stammer inarticulate syllables, while Mme. Dugrival gasped,
in dismay:
"What is it? What's the matter?"
"Stolen!" he moaned. "The pocket-book ... the fifty notes!..."
"It's not true!" she screamed. "It's not true!"
"Yes, the inspector ... a common sharper ... he's the man...."
She uttered absolute yells:
"Thief! Thief! Stop thief!... My husband's been robbed!... Fifty
thousand francs!... We are ruined!... Thief! Thief ..."
In a moment they were surrounded by policemen and taken to the
commissary's office. Dugrival went like a lamb, absolutely bewildered.
His wife continued to shriek at the top of her voice, piling up
explanations, railing against the inspector:
"Have him looked for!... Have him found!... A brown suit.... A pointed
beard.... Oh, the villain, to think what he's robbed us of!... Fifty
thousand francs!... Why ... why, Dugrival, what are you doing?"
With one bound, she flung herself upon her husband. Too late! He had
pressed the barrel of a revolver against his temple. A shot rang out.
Dugrival fell. He was dead.
* * * * *
The reader cannot have forgotten the commotion made by the newspapers in
connection with this case, nor how they jumped at the opportunity once
more to accuse the police of carelessness and blundering. Was it
conceivable that a pick-pocket could play the part of an inspector like
that, in broad daylight and in a public place, and rob a respectable man
with impunity?
Nicolas Dugrival's widow kept the controversy alive, thanks to her
jeremiads and to the interviews which she granted on every hand. A
reporter had secured a snapshot of her in front of her husband's body,
holding up her hand and swearing to revenge his death. Her nephew
Gabriel was standing beside her, with hatred pictured in his face. He,
too, it appeared, in a few words uttered in a whisper, but in a tone of
fierce determination, had taken an oath to pursue and catch the
murderer.
The accounts described the humble apartment which they occupied at the
Batignolles; and, as they had been robbed of all their means, a
sporting-paper opened a subscription on their behalf.
As for the mysterious Delangle, he remained undiscovered. Two men were
arrested, but had to be released forthwith. The police took up a number
of clues, which were at once abandoned; more than one name was
mentioned; and, lastly, they accused Arsene Lupin, an action which
provoked the famous burglar's celebrated cable, dispatched from New York
six days after the incident:
"Protest indignantly against calumny invented by baffled police.
Send my condolences to unhappy victims. Instructing my bankers to
remit them fifty thousand francs.