see, there was no trap about all this ... only the wish to oblige ... a
service between friends, between pals.... And also, I confess, a little
curiosity.... Yes, I wanted to examine this other piece of silk, the one
the police had.... Don't be afraid: I'll give it back to you.... Just a
second...."
Lupin, with a careless movement, played with the tassel at the end of
this half of the scarf, while Ganimard listened to him in spite of
himself:
"How ingenious these little bits of women's work are! Did you notice one
detail in the maid's evidence? Jenny Saphir was very handy with her
needle and used to make all her own hats and frocks. It is obvious that
she made this scarf herself.... Besides, I noticed that from the first.
I am naturally curious, as I have already told you, and I made a
thorough examination of the piece of silk which you have just put in
your pocket. Inside the tassel, I found a little sacred medal, which the
poor girl had stitched into it to bring her luck. Touching, isn't it,
Ganimard? A little medal of Our Lady of Good Succour."
The inspector felt greatly puzzled and did not take his eyes off the
other. And Lupin continued:
"Then I said to myself, 'How interesting it would be to explore the
other half of the scarf, the one which the police will find round the
victim's neck!' For this other half, which I hold in my hands at last,
is finished off in the same way ... so I shall be able to see if it has
a hiding-place too and what's inside it.... But look, my friend, isn't
it cleverly made? And so simple! All you have to do is to take a skein
of red cord and braid it round a wooden cup, leaving a little recess, a
little empty space in the middle, very small, of course, but large
enough to hold a medal of a saint ... or anything.... A precious stone,
for instance.... Such as a sapphire...."
At that moment he finished pushing back the silk cord and, from the
hollow of a cup he took between his thumb and forefinger a wonderful
blue stone, perfect in respect of size and purity.
"Ha! What did I tell you, friend of my youth?"
He raised his head. The inspector had turned livid and was staring
wild-eyed, as though fascinated by the stone that sparkled before him.
He at last realized the whole plot:
"You dirty scoundrel!" he muttered, repeating the insults which he had
used at the first interview. "You scum of the earth!"
The two men were standing one against the other.
"Give me back that," said the inspector.
Lupin held out the piece of silk.
"And the sapphire," said Ganimard, in a peremptory tone.
"Don't be silly."
"Give it back, or...."
"Or what, you idiot!" cried Lupin. "Look here, do you think I put you on
to this soft thing for nothing?"
"Give it back!"
"You haven't noticed what I've been about, that's plain! What! For four
weeks I've kept you on the move like a deer; and you want to ...! Come,
Ganimard, old chap, pull yourself together!... Don't you see that you've
been playing the good dog for four weeks on end?... Fetch it, Rover!...
There's a nice blue pebble over there, which master can't get at. Hunt
it, Ganimard, fetch it ... bring it to master.... Ah, he's his master's
own good little dog!... Sit up! Beg!... Does'ms want a bit of sugar,
then?..."
Ganimard, containing the anger that seethed within him, thought only of
one thing, summoning his detectives. And, as the room in which he now
was looked out on the courtyard, he tried gradually to work his way
round to the communicating door. He would then run to the window and
break one of the panes.
"All the same," continued Lupin, "what a pack of dunderheads you and the
rest must be! You've had the silk all this time and not one of you ever
thought of feeling it, not one of you ever asked himself the reason why
the poor girl hung on to her scarf. Not one of you! You just acted at
haphazard, without reflecting, without foreseeing anything...."
The inspector had attained his object. Taking advantage of a second when
Lupin had turned away from him, he suddenly wheeled round and grasped
the door-handle. But an oath escaped him: the handle did not budge.
Lupin burst into a fit of laughing:
"Not even that! You did not even foresee that! You lay a trap for me and
you won't admit that I may perhaps smell the thing out beforehand....
And you allow yourself to be brought into this room without asking
whether I am not bringing you here for a particular reason and without
remembering that the locks are fitted with a special mechanism. Come
now, speaking frankly, what do you think of it yourself?"
"What do I think of it?" roared Ganimard, beside himself with rage.
He had drawn his revolver and was pointing it straight at Lupin's face.
"Hands up!" he cried. "That's what I think of it!"
Lupin placed himself in front of him and shrugged his shoulders:
"Sold again!" he said.
"Hands up, I say, once more!"
"And sold again, say I. Your deadly weapon won't go off."
"What?"
"Old Catherine, your housekeeper, is in my service. She damped the
charges this morning while you were having your breakfast coffee."
Ganimard made a furious gesture, pocketed the revolver and rushed at
Lupin.
"Well?" said Lupin, stopping him short with a well-aimed kick on the
shin.
Their clothes were almost touching. They exchanged defiant glances, the
glances of two adversaries who mean to come to blows. Nevertheless,
there was no fight. The recollection of the earlier struggles made any
present struggle useless. And Ganimard, who remembered all his past
failures, his vain attacks, Lupin's crushing reprisals, did not lift a
limb. There was nothing to be done. He felt it. Lupin had forces at his
command against which any individual force simply broke to pieces. So
what was the good?
"I agree," said Lupin, in a friendly voice, as though answering
Ganimard's unspoken thought, "you would do better to let things be as
they are. Besides, friend of my youth, think of all that this incident
has brought you: fame, the certainty of quick promotion and, thanks to
that, the prospect of a happy and comfortable old age! Surely, you don't
want the discovery of the sapphire and the head of poor Arsene Lupin in
addition! It wouldn't be fair. To say nothing of the fact that poor
Arsene Lupin saved your life.... Yes, sir! Who warned you, at this very
spot, that Prevailles was left-handed?... And is this the way you thank
me? It's not pretty of you, Ganimard. Upon my word, you make me blush
for you!"
While chattering, Lupin had gone through the same performance as
Ganimard and was now near the door. Ganimard saw that his foe was about
to escape him. Forgetting all prudence, he tried to block his way and
received a tremendous butt in the stomach, which sent him rolling to
the opposite wall.
Lupin dexterously touched a spring, turned the handle, opened the door
and slipped away, roaring with laughter as he went.
* * * * *
Twenty minutes later, when Ganimard at last succeeded in joining his
men, one of them said to him:
"A house-painter left the house, as his mates were coming back from
breakfast, and put a letter in my hand. 'Give that to your governor,' he
said. 'Which governor?' I asked; but he was gone. I suppose it's meant
for you."
"Let's have it."
Ganimard opened the letter. It was hurriedly scribbled in pencil and
contained these words:
"This is to warn you, friend of my youth, against excessive
credulity. When a fellow tells you that the cartridges in your
revolver are damp, however great your confidence in that fellow may
be, even though his name be Arsene Lupin, never allow yourself to
be taken in. Fire first; and, if the fellow hops the twig, you will
have acquired the proof (1) that the cartridges are not damp; and
(2) that old Catherine is the most honest and respectable of
housekeepers.
"One of these days, I hope to have the pleasure of making her
acquaintance.
"Meanwhile, friend of my youth, believe me always affectionately
and sincerely yours,
"ARSENE LUPIN."
VI
SHADOWED BY DEATH
After he had been round the walls of the property, Arsene Lupin returned
to the spot from which he started. It was perfectly clear to him that
there was no breach in the walls; and the only way of entering the
extensive grounds of the Chateau de Maupertuis was through a little low
door, firmly bolted on the inside, or through the principal gate, which
was overlooked by the lodge.
"Very well," he said. "We must employ heroic methods."
Pushing his way into the copsewood where he had hidden his
motor-bicycle, he unwound a length of twine from under the saddle and
went to a place which he had noticed in the course of his exploration.
At this place, which was situated far from the road, on the edge of a
wood, a number of large trees, standing inside the park, overlapped the
wall.
Lupin fastened a stone to the end of the string, threw it up and caught
a thick branch, which he drew down to him and bestraddled. The branch,
in recovering its position, raised him from the ground. He climbed over
the wall, slipped down the tree, and sprang lightly on the grass.
It was winter; and, through the leafless boughs, across the undulating
lawns, he could see the little Chateau de Maupertuis in the distance.
Fearing lest he should be perceived, he concealed himself behind a clump
of fir-trees. From there, with the aid of a field-glass, he studied the
dark and melancholy front of the manor-house. All the windows were
closed and, as it were, barricaded with solid shutters. The house might
easily have been uninhabited.
"By Jove!" muttered Lupin. "It's not the liveliest of residences. I
shall certainly not come here to end my days!"
But the clock struck three; one of the doors on the ground-floor opened;
and the figure of a woman appeared, a very slender figure wrapped in a
brown cloak.
The woman walked up and down for a few minutes and was at once
surrounded by birds, to which she scattered crumbs of bread. Then she
went down the stone steps that led to the middle lawn and skirted it,
taking the path on the right.
With his field-glass, Lupin could distinctly see her coming in his
direction. She was tall, fair-haired, graceful in appearance, and
seemed to be quite a young girl. She walked with a sprightly step,
looking at the pale December sun and amusing herself by breaking the
little dead twigs on the shrubs along the road.
She had gone nearly two thirds of the distance that separated her from
Lupin when there came a furious sound of barking and a huge dog, a
colossal Danish boarhound, sprang from a neighbouring kennel and stood
erect at the end of the chain by which it was fastened.
The girl moved a little to one side, without paying further attention to
what was doubtless a daily incident. The dog grew angrier than ever,
standing on its legs and dragging at its collar, at the risk of
strangling itself.
Thirty or forty steps farther, yielding probably to an impulse of
impatience, the girl turned round and made a gesture with her hand. The
great Dane gave a start of rage, retreated to the back of its kennel and
rushed out again, this time unfettered. The girl uttered a cry of mad
terror. The dog was covering the space between them, trailing its broken
chain behind it.
She began to run, to run with all her might, and screamed out
desperately for help. But the dog came up with her in a few bounds.
She fell, at once exhausted, giving herself up for lost. The animal was
already upon her, almost touching her.
At that exact moment a shot rang out. The dog turned a complete
somersault, recovered its feet, tore the ground and then lay down,
giving a number of hoarse, breathless howls, which ended in a dull moan
and an indistinct gurgling. And that was all.
"Dead," said Lupin, who had hastened up at once, prepared, if necessary,
to fire his revolver a second time.
The girl had risen and stood pale, still staggering. She looked in great
surprise at this man whom she did not know and who had saved her life;
and she whispered:
"Thank you.... I have had a great fright.... You were in the nick of
time.... I thank you, monsieur."
Lupin took off his hat:
"Allow me to introduce myself, mademoiselle.... My name is Paul
Daubreuil.... But before entering into any explanations, I must ask for
one moment...."
He stooped over the dog's dead body and examined the chain at the part
where the brute's effort had snapped it:
"That's it," he said, between his teeth. "It's just as I suspected. By
Jupiter, things are moving rapidly!... I ought to have come earlier."
Returning to the girl's side, he said to her, speaking very quickly:
"Mademoiselle, we have not a minute to lose. My presence in these
grounds is quite irregular. I do not wish to be surprised here; and this
for reasons that concern yourself alone. Do you think that the report
can have been heard at the house?"
The girl seemed already to have recovered from her emotion; and she
replied, with a calmness that revealed all her pluck:
"I don't think so."
"Is your father in the house to-day?"
"My father is ill and has been in bed for months. Besides, his room
looks out on the other front."
"And the servants?"
"Their quarters and the kitchen are also on the other side. No one ever
comes to this part. I walk here myself, but nobody else does."
"It is probable, therefore, that I have not been seen either, especially
as the trees hide us?"
"It is most probable."
"Then I can speak to you freely?"
"Certainly, but I don't understand...."
"You will, presently. Permit me to be brief. The point is this: four
days ago, Mlle. Jeanne Darcieux...."
"That is my name," she said, smiling.
"Mlle. Jeanne Darcieux," continued Lupin, "wrote a letter to one of her
friends, called Marceline, who lives at Versailles...."
"How do you know all that?" asked the girl, in astonishment. "I tore up
the letter before I had finished it."
"And you flung the pieces on the edge of the road that runs from the
house to Vendome."
"That's true.... I had gone out walking...."
"The pieces were picked up and they came into my hands next day."
"Then ... you must have read them," said Jeanne Darcieux, betraying a
certain annoyance by her manner.
"Yes, I committed that indiscretion; and I do not regret it, because I
can save you."
"Save me? From what?"
"From death."
Lupin spoke this little sentence in a very distinct voice. The girl gave
a shudder. Then she said:
"I am not threatened with death."
"Yes, you are, mademoiselle. At the end of October, you were reading on
a bench on the terrace where you were accustomed to sit at the same hour
every day, when a block of stone fell from the cornice above your head
and you were within a few inches of being crushed."
"An accident...."
"One fine evening in November, you were walking in the kitchen-garden,
by moonlight. A shot was fired, The bullet whizzed past your ear."
"At least, I thought so."
"Lastly, less than a week ago, the little wooden bridge that crosses the
river in the park, two yards from the waterfall, gave way while you were
on it. You were just able, by a miracle, to catch hold of the root of a
tree."
Jeanne Darcieux tried to smile.
"Very well. But, as I wrote to Marceline, these are only a series of
coincidences, of accidents...."
"No, mademoiselle, no. One accident of this sort is allowable.... So are
two ... and even then!... But we have no right to suppose that the
chapter of accidents, repeating the same act three times in such
different and extraordinary circumstances, is a mere amusing
coincidence. That is why I thought that I might presume to come to your
assistance. And, as my intervention can be of no use unless it remains
secret, I did not hesitate to make my way in here ... without walking
through the gate. I came in the nick of time, as you said. Your enemy
was attacking you once more."
"What!... Do you think?... No, it is impossible.... I refuse to
believe...."
Lupin picked up the chain and, showing it to her:
"Look at the last link. There is no question but that it has been filed.
Otherwise, so powerful a chain as this would never have yielded.
Besides, you can see the mark of the file here."
Jeanne turned pale and her pretty features were distorted with terror:
"But who can bear me such a grudge?" she gasped. "It is terrible.... I
have never done any one harm.... And yet you are certainly right....
Worse still...."
She finished her sentence in a lower voice:
"Worse still, I am wondering whether the same danger does not threaten
my father."
"Has he been attacked also?"
"No, for he never stirs from his room. But his is such a mysterious
illness!... He has no strength ... he cannot walk at all.... In addition
to that, he is subject to fits of suffocation, as though his heart
stopped beating.... Oh, what an awful thing!"
Lupin realized all the authority which he was able to assert at such a
moment, and he said:
"Have no fear, mademoiselle. If you obey me blindly, I shall be sure to
succeed."
"Yes ... yes ... I am quite willing ... but all this is so terrible...."
"Trust me, I beg of you. And please listen to me, I shall want a few
particulars."
He rapped out a number of questions, which Jeanne Darcieux answered
hurriedly:
"That animal was never let loose, was he?"
"Never."
"Who used to feed him?"
"The lodge-keeper. He brought him his food every evening."
"Consequently, he could go near him without being bitten?"
"Yes; and he only, for the dog was very savage."
"You don't suspect the man?"
"Oh, no!... Baptiste?... Never!"
"And you can't think of anybody?"
"No. Our servants are quite devoted to us. They are very fond of me."
"You have no friends staying in the house?"
"No."
"No brother?"
"No."
"Then your father is your only protector?"
"Yes; and I have told you the condition he is in."
"Have you told him of the different attempts?"
"Yes; and it was wrong of me to do so. Our doctor, old Dr. Gueroult,
forbade me to cause him the least excitement."
"Your mother?..."
"I don't remember her. She died sixteen years ago ... just sixteen years
ago."
"How old were you then?"
"I was not quite five years old."
"And were you living here?"
"We were living in Paris. My father only bought this place the year
after."
Lupin was silent for a few moments. Then he concluded:
"Very well, mademoiselle, I am obliged to you. Those particulars are all
I need for the present. Besides, it would not be wise for us to remain
together longer."
"But," she said, "the lodge-keeper will find the dog soon.... Who will
have killed him?"
"You, mademoiselle, to defend yourself against an attack."
"I never carry firearms."
"I am afraid you do," said Lupin, smiling, "because you killed the dog
and there is no one but you who could have killed him. For that matter,
let them think what they please. The great thing is that I shall not be
suspected when I come to the house."
"To the house? Do you intend to?"
"Yes. I don't yet know how ... But I shall come.... This very
evening.... So, once more, be easy in your mind. I will answer for
everything."
Jeanne looked at him and, dominated by him, conquered by his air of
assurance and good faith, she said, simply:
"I am quite easy."
"Then all will go well. Till this evening, mademoiselle."
"Till this evening."
She walked away; and Lupin, following her with his eyes until the moment
when she disappeared round the corner of the house, murmured:
"What a pretty creature! It would be a pity if any harm were to come to
her. Luckily, Arsene Lupin is keeping his weather-eye open."
Taking care not to be seen, with eyes and ears attentive to the least
sight or sound, he inspected every nook and corner of the grounds,
looked for the little low door which he had noticed outside and which
was the door of the kitchen garden, drew the bolt, took the key and then
skirted the walls and found himself once more near the tree which he had
climbed. Two minutes later, he was mounting his motor-cycle.
* * * * *
The village of Maupertuis lay quite close to the estate. Lupin inquired
and learnt that Dr. Gueroult lived next door to the church.
He rang, was shown into the consulting-room and introduced himself by
his name of Paul Daubreuil, of the Rue de Surene, Paris, adding that he
had official relations with the detective-service, a fact which he
requested might be kept secret. He had become acquainted, by means of a
torn letter, with the incidents that had endangered Mlle. Darcieux's
life; and he had come to that young lady's assistance.
Dr. Gueroult, an old country practitioner, who idolized Jeanne, on
hearing Lupin's explanations at once admitted that those incidents
constituted undeniable proofs of a plot. He showed great concern,
offered his visitor hospitality and kept him to dinner.
The two men talked at length. In the evening, they walked round to the
manor-house together.
The doctor went to the sick man's room, which was on the first floor,
and asked leave to bring up a young colleague, to whom he intended soon
to make over his practice, when he retired.
Lupin, on entering, saw Jeanne Darcieux seated by her father's bedside.
She suppressed a movement of surprise and, at a sign from the doctor,
left the room.
The consultation thereupon took place in Lupin's presence. M. Darcieux's
face was worn, with much suffering and his eyes were bright with fever.
He complained particularly, that day, of his heart. After the
auscultation, he questioned the doctor with obvious anxiety; and each
reply seemed to give him relief. He also spoke of Jeanne and expressed
his conviction that they were deceiving him and that his daughter had
escaped yet more accidents. He continued perturbed, in spite of the
doctor's denials. He wanted to have the police informed and inquiries
set on foot.
But his excitement tired him and he gradually dropped off to sleep.
Lupin stopped the doctor in the passage:
"Come, doctor, give me your exact opinion. Do you think that M.
Darcieux's illness can be attributed to an outside cause?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well, suppose that the same enemy should be interested in removing both
father and daughter."
The doctor seemed struck by the suggestion.
"Upon my word, there is something in what you say.... The father's
illness at times adopts such a very unusual character!... For instance,
the paralysis of the legs, which is almost complete, ought to be
accompanied by...."
The doctor reflected for a moment and then said in a low voice:
"You think it's poison, of course ... but what poison?... Besides, I see
no toxic symptoms.... It would have to be.... But what are you doing?
What's the matter?..."
The two men were talking outside a little sitting-room on the first
floor, where Jeanne, seizing the opportunity while the doctor was with
her father, had begun her evening meal. Lupin, who was watching her
through the open door, saw her lift a cup to her lips and take a few
sups.
Suddenly, he rushed at her and caught her by the arm:
"What are you drinking there?"
"Why," she said, taken aback, "only tea!"
"You pulled a face of disgust ... what made you do that?"
"I don't know ... I thought...."
"You thought what?"
"That ... that it tasted rather bitter.... But I expect that comes from
the medicine I mixed with it."
"What medicine?"
"Some drops which I take at dinner ... the drops which you prescribed
for me, you know, doctor."
"Yes," said Dr. Gueroult, "but that medicine has no taste of any
kind.... You know it hasn't, Jeanne, for you have been taking it for a
fortnight and this is the first time...."
"Quite right," said the girl, "and this does have a taste....
There--oh!--my mouth is still burning."
Dr. Gueroult now took a sip from the cup;
"Faugh!" he exclaimed, spitting it out again. "There's no mistake about
it...."
Lupin, on his side, was examining the bottle containing the medicine;
and he asked:
"Where is this bottle kept in the daytime?"
But Jeanne was unable to answer. She had put her hand to her heart and,
wan-faced, with staring eyes, seemed to be suffering great pain:
"It hurts ... it hurts," she stammered.
The two men quickly carried her to her room and laid her on the bed:
"She ought to have an emetic," said Lupin.
"Open the cupboard," said the doctor. "You'll see a medicine-case....
Have you got it?... Take out one of those little tubes.... Yes, that
one.... And now some hot water.... You'll find some on the tea-tray in
the other room."
Jeanne's own maid came running up in answer to the bell. Lupin told her
that Mlle. Darcieux had been taken unwell, for some unknown reason.