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THE BLONDE LADY
Being a Record of the Duel of Wits
between Arsene Lupin and the
English Detective
by
MAURICE LEBLANC
Translated by Alexander Teixeira De Mattos
Illustrated by H. Richard Boehm
New York
Doubleday, Page & Company
1910
All Rights Reserved, Including That of Translation
into Foreign Languages, Including the Scandinavian
Copyright, 1907, by Maurice Leblanc
Copyright, 1909, 1910, by the Short Stories Company, Ltd.
Copyright, 1910, by Maurice Leblanc
Published, June, 1910
This book appeared in England under the title of Arsene Lupin versus
Holmlock Shears
CONTENTS
FIRST EPISODE: THE BLONDE LADY
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Number 514, Series 23 3
II. The Blue Diamond 49
III. Holmlock Shears Opens Hostilities 91
IV. A Glimmer in the Darkness 131
V. Kidnapped 166
VI. The Second Arrest of Arsene Lupin 207
SECOND EPISODE: THE JEWISH LAMP
I. 249
II. 296
FIRST EPISODE
THE BLONDE LADY
CHAPTER I
NUMBER 514, SERIES 23
On the 8th of December last, M. Gerbois, professor of mathematics at
Versailles College, rummaging among the stores at a second-hand
dealer's, discovered a small mahogany writing-desk, which took his fancy
because of its many drawers.
"That's just what I want for Suzanne's birthday," he thought.
M. Gerbois' means were limited and, anxious as he was to please his
daughter, he felt it his duty to beat the dealer down. He ended by
paying sixty-five francs. As he was writing down his address, a
well-groomed and well-dressed young man, who had been hunting through
the shop in every direction, caught sight of the writing-desk and asked:
"How much for this?"
"It's sold," replied the dealer.
"Oh ... to this gentleman?"
M. Gerbois bowed and, feeling all the happier that one of his fellow-men
envied him his purchase, left the shop. But he had not taken ten steps
in the street before the young man caught him up and, raising his hat,
said, very politely:
"I beg a thousand pardons, sir.... I am going to ask you an indiscreet
question.... Were you looking for this desk rather than anything else?"
"No. I went to the shop to see if I could find a cheap set of scales for
my experiments."
"Therefore, you do not want it very particularly?"
"I want it, that's all."
"Because it's old I suppose?"
"Because it's useful."
"In that case, would you mind exchanging it for another desk, quite as
useful, but in better condition?"
"This one is in good condition and I see no point in exchanging it."
"Still ..."
M. Gerbois was a man easily irritated and quick to take offense. He
replied curtly:
"I must ask you to drop the subject, sir."
The young man placed himself in front of him.
"I don't know how much you paid, sir ... but I offer you double the
price."
"No, thank you."
"Three times the price."
"Oh, that will do," exclaimed the professor, impatiently. "The desk
belongs to me and is not for sale."
The young man stared at him with a look that remained imprinted on M.
Gerbois' memory, then turned on his heel, without a word, and walked
away.
* * * * *
An hour later, the desk was brought to the little house on the Viroflay
Road where the professor lived. He called his daughter:
"This is for you, Suzanne; that is, if you like it."
Suzanne was a pretty creature, of a demonstrative temperament and easily
pleased. She threw her arms round her father's neck and kissed him as
rapturously as though he had made her a present fit for a queen.
That evening, assisted by Hortense the maid, she carried up the desk to
her room, cleaned out the drawers and neatly put away her papers, her
stationery, her correspondence, her picture postcards and a few secret
souvenirs of her cousin Philippe.
M. Gerbois went to the college at half-past seven the next morning. At
ten o'clock Suzanne, according to her daily custom, went to meet him at
the exit; and it was a great pleasure to him to see her graceful,
smiling figure waiting on the pavement opposite the gate.
They walked home together.
"And how do you like the desk?"
"Oh, it's lovely! Hortense and I have polished up the brass handles till
they shine like gold."
"So you're pleased with it?"
"I should think so! I don't know how I did without it all this time."
They walked up the front garden. The professor said:
"Let's go and look at it before lunch."
"Yes, that's a good idea."
She went up the stairs first, but, on reaching the door of her room, she
gave a cry of dismay.
"What's the matter?" exclaimed M. Gerbois.
He followed her into the room. The writing-desk was gone.
* * * * *
What astonished the police was the wonderful simplicity of the means
employed. While Suzanne was out and the maid making her purchases for
the day, a ticket-porter, wearing his badge, had stopped his cart before
the garden, in sight of the neighbours, and rung the bell twice. The
neighbours, not knowing that the servant had left the house, suspected
nothing, so that the man was able to effect his object absolutely
undisturbed.
This fact must be noted: not a cupboard had been broken open, not so
much as a clock displaced. Even Suzanne's purse, which she had left on
the marble slab of the desk, was found on the adjacent table, with the
gold which it contained. The object of the theft was clearly determined,
therefore, and this made it the more difficult to understand; for, after
all, why should a man run so great a risk to secure so trivial a spoil?
The only clue which the professor could supply was the incident of the
day before:
"From the first, that young man displayed a keen annoyance at my
refusal; and I have a positive impression that he left me under a
threat."
It was all very vague. The dealer was questioned. He knew neither of the
two gentlemen. As for the desk, he had bought it for forty francs at
Chevreuse, at the sale of a person deceased, and he considered that he
had re-sold it at a fair price. A persistent inquiry revealed nothing
further.
But M. Gerbois remained convinced that he had suffered an enormous loss.
A fortune must have been concealed in some secret drawer and that was
why the young man, knowing of the hiding-place, had acted with such
decision.
"Poor father! What should we have done with the fortune?" Suzanne kept
saying.
"What! Why, with that for your dowry, you could have made the finest
match going!"
Suzanne aimed at no one higher than her cousin Philippe, who had not a
penny to bless himself with, and she gave a bitter sigh. And life in the
little house at Versailles went on gaily, less carelessly than before,
shadowed over as it now was with regret and disappointment.
* * * * *
Two months elapsed. And suddenly, one after the other, came a sequence
of the most serious events, forming a surprising run of alternate luck
and misfortune.
On the 1st of February, at half-past five, M. Gerbois, who had just come
home, with an evening paper in his hand, sat down, put on his spectacles
and began to read. The political news was uninteresting. He turned the
page and a paragraph at once caught his eye, headed:
"THIRD DRAWING OF THE PRESS-ASSOCIATION LOTTERY"
"First prize, 1,000,000 francs: No. 514, Series 23."
The paper dropped from his hands. The walls swam before his eyes and his
heart stopped beating. Number 514, series 23, was the number of his
ticket! He had bought it by accident, to oblige one of his friends, for
he did not believe in luck; and now he had won!
He took out his memorandum-book, quick! He was quite right: number 514,
series 23, was jotted down on the fly-leaf. But where was the ticket?
He flew to his study to fetch the box of stationery in which he had put
the precious ticket away; and he stopped short as he entered and
staggered back, with a pain at his heart: the box was not there
and--what an awful thing!--he suddenly realized that the box had not
been there for weeks.
"Suzanne! Suzanne!"
She had just come in and ran up the stairs hurriedly. He stammered, in a
choking voice:
"Suzanne ... the box ... the box of stationery...."
"Which one?"
"The one I bought at Louvre ... on a Thursday ... it used to stand at
the end of the table."
"But don't you remember, father?... We put it away together...."
"When?"
"That evening ... you know, the day before...."
"But where?... Quick, tell me ... it's more than I can bear...."
"Where?... In the writing-desk."
"In the desk that was stolen?"
"Yes."
"In the desk that was stolen!"
He repeated the words in a whisper, with a sort of terror. Then he took
her hand, and lower still:
"It contained a million, Suzanne...."
"Oh, father, why didn't you tell me?" she murmured innocently.
"A million!" he repeated. "It was the winning number in the press
lottery."
The hugeness of the disaster crushed them and, for a long time, they
maintained a silence which they had not the courage to break. At last
Suzanne said:
"But, father, they will pay you all the same."
"Why? On what evidence?"
"Does it require evidence?"
"Of course!"
"And have you none?"
"Yes, I have."
"Well?"
"It was in the box."
"In the box that has disappeared?"
"Yes. And the other man will get the money."
"Why, that would be outrageous! Surely, father, you can stop the
payment?"
"Who knows? Who knows? That man must be extraordinarily clever! He has
such wonderful resources.... Remember ... think how he got hold of the
desk...."
His energy revived; he sprang up and, stamping his foot on the floor.
"No, no, no," he shouted, "he shan't have that million, he shan't! Why
should he? After all, sharp as he may be, he can do nothing, either. If
he calls for the money, they'll lock him up! Ah, we shall see, my
friend!"
"Have you thought of something, father?"
"I shall defend our rights to the bitter end, come what may! And we
shall succeed!... The million belongs to me and I mean to have it!"
A few minutes later, he dispatched this telegram:
"Governor,
"Credit Foncier,
"Rue Capucines,
"Paris.
"Am owner number 514, series 23; oppose by every legal method
payment to any other person.
"GERBOIS."
At almost the same time, the Credit Foncier received another telegram:
"Number 514, series 23, is in my possession.
"ARSENE LUPIN."
* * * * *
Whenever I sit down to tell one of the numberless adventures which
compose the life of Arsene Lupin, I feel a genuine embarrassment,
because it is quite clear to me that even the least important of these
adventures is known to every one of my readers. As a matter of fact,
there is not a move on the part of "our national thief," as he has been
happily called, but has been described all over the country, not an
exploit but has been studied from every point of view, not an action but
has been commented upon with an abundance of detail generally reserved
for stories of heroic deeds.
Who, for instance, does not know that strange case of the blonde lady,
with the curious episodes which were reported under flaring headlines as
"NUMBER 514, SERIES 23!" ... "THE MURDER IN THE AVENUE HENRI-MARTIN!"
... and "THE BLUE DIAMOND!" ... What an excitement there was about the
intervention of Holmlock Shears, the famous English detective! What an
effervescence surrounded the varying fortunes that marked the struggle
between those two great artists! And what a din along the boulevards on
the day when the newsboys shouted:
"Arrest of Arsene Lupin!"
My excuse is that I can supply something new: I can furnish the key to
the puzzle. There is always a certain mystery about these adventures: I
can dispel it. I reprint articles that have been read over and over
again; I copy out old interviews: but all these things I rearrange and
classify and put to the exact test of truth. My collaborator in this
work is Arsene Lupin himself, whose kindness to me is inexhaustible. I
am also under an occasional obligation to the unspeakable Wilson, the
friend and confidant of Holmlock Shears.
* * * * *
My readers will remember the Homeric laughter that greeted the
publication of the two telegrams. The name of Arsene Lupin alone was a
guarantee of originality, a promise of amusement for the gallery. And
the gallery, in this case, was the whole world.
An inquiry was immediately set on foot by the Credit Foncier and it was
ascertained that number 514, series 23, had been sold by the Versailles
branch of the Credit Lyonnais to Major Bressy of the artillery. Now the
major had died of a fall from his horse; and it appeared that he told
his brother officers, some time before his death, that he had been
obliged to part with his ticket to a friend.
"That friend was myself," declared M. Gerbois.
"Prove it," objected the governor of the Credit Foncier.
"Prove it? That's quite easy. Twenty people will tell you that I kept up
constant relations with the major and that we used to meet at the cafe
on the Place d'Armes. It was there that, one day, to oblige him in a
moment of financial embarrassment, I took his ticket off him and gave
him twenty francs for it."
"Have you any witnesses to the transaction?"
"No."
"Then upon what do you base your claim?"
"Upon the letter which he wrote me on the subject."
"What letter?"
"A letter pinned to the ticket."
"Produce it."
"But it was in the stolen writing-desk!"
"Find it."
* * * * *
The letter was communicated to the press by Arsene Lupin. A paragraph
inserted in the _Echo de France_--which has the honour of being his
official organ and in which he seems to be one of the principal
shareholders--announced that he was placing in the hands of Maitre
Detinan, his counsel, the letter which Major Bressy had written to him,
Lupin, personally.
There was a burst of delight: Arsene Lupin was represented by counsel!
Arsene Lupin, respecting established customs, had appointed a member of
the bar to act for him!
The reporters rushed to interview Maitre Detinan, an influential radical
deputy, a man endowed with the highest integrity and a mind of uncommon
shrewdness, which was, at the same time, somewhat skeptical and given to
paradox.
Maitre Detinan was exceedingly sorry to say that he had never had the
pleasure of meeting Arsene Lupin, but he had, in point of fact, received
his instructions, was greatly flattered at being selected, keenly alive
to the honour shown him and determined to defend his client's rights to
the utmost. He opened his brief and without hesitation showed the
major's letter. It proved the sale of the ticket, but did not mention
the purchaser's name. It began, "My dear friend," simply.
"'My dear friend' means me," added Arsene Lupin, in a note enclosing the
major's letter. "And the best proof is that I have the letter."
The bevy of reporters at once flew off to M. Gerbois, who could do
nothing but repeat:
"'My dear friend' is no one but myself. Arsene Lupin stole the major's
letter with the lottery-ticket."
"Tell him to prove it," was Lupin's rejoinder to the journalists.
"But he stole the desk!" exclaimed M. Gerbois in front of the same
journalists.
"Tell him to prove it!" retorted Lupin once again.
And a delightful entertainment was provided for the public by this duel
between the two owners of number 514, series 23, by the constant coming
and going of the journalists and by the coolness of Arsene Lupin as
opposed to the frenzy of poor M. Gerbois.
Unhappy man! The press was full of his lamentations! He confessed the
full extent of his misfortunes in a touchingly ingenuous way:
"It's Suzanne's dowry, gentlemen, that the villain has stolen!... For
myself, personally, I don't care; but for Suzanne! Just think, a
million! Ten hundred thousand francs! Ah, I always said the desk
contained a treasure!"
He was told in vain that his adversary, when taking away the desk, knew
nothing of the existence of the lottery-ticket and that, in any case, no
one could have foreseen that this particular ticket would win the first
prize. All he did was to moan:
"Don't talk to me; of course he knew!... If not, why should he have
taken the trouble to steal that wretched desk?"
"For unknown reasons, but certainly not to get hold of a scrap of paper
which, at that time, was worth the modest sum of twenty francs."
"The sum of a million! He knew it.... He knows everything!... Ah, you
don't know the sort of a man he is, the ruffian!... He hasn't defrauded
you of a million, you see!..."
This talk could have gone on a long time yet. But, twelve days later,
M. Gerbois received a letter from Arsene Lupin, marked "Private and
confidential," which worried him not a little:
"DEAR SIR:
"The gallery is amusing itself at our expense. Do you not think
that the time has come to be serious? I, for my part, have quite
made up my mind.
"The position is clear: I hold a ticket which I am not entitled
to cash and you are entitled to cash a ticket which you do not
hold. Therefore neither of us can do anything without the other.
"Now you would not consent to surrender _your_ rights to _me_
nor I to give up _my_ ticket to _you_.
"What are we to do?
"I see only one way out of the difficulty: let us divide. Half a
million for you, half a million for me. Is not that fair? And
would not this judgment of Solomon satisfy the sense of justice
in each of us?
"I propose this as an equitable solution, but also an immediate
solution. It is not an offer which you have time to discuss,
but a necessity before which circumstances compel you to bow. I
give you three days for reflection. I hope that, on Friday
morning, I may have the pleasure of seeing a discreet
advertisement in the agony-column of the _Echo de France_,
addressed to 'M. Ars. Lup.' and containing, in veiled terms,
your unreserved assent to the compact which I am suggesting to
you. In that event, you will at once recover possession of the
ticket and receive the million, on the understanding that you
will hand me five hundred thousand francs in a way which I will
indicate hereafter.
"Should you refuse, I have taken measures that will produce
exactly the same result; but, apart from the very serious
trouble which your obstinacy would bring upon you, you would be
the poorer by twenty-five thousand francs, which I should have
to deduct for additional expenses.
"I am, dear sir,
"Very respectfully yours,
"ARSENE LUPIN."
M. Gerbois, in his exasperation, was guilty of the colossal blunder of
showing this letter and allowing it to be copied. His indignation drove
him to every sort of folly:
"Not a penny! He shall not have a penny!" he shouted before the
assembled reporters. "Share what belongs to me? Never! Let him tear up
his ticket if he likes!"
"Still, half a million francs is better than nothing."
"It's not a question of that, but of my rights; and those rights I shall
establish in a court of law."
"Go to law with Arsene Lupin? That would be funny!"
"No, but the Credit Foncier. They are bound to hand me the million."
"Against the ticket or at least against evidence that you bought it?"
"The evidence exists, seeing that Arsene Lupin admits that he stole the
desk."
"What judge is going to take Arsene Lupin's word?"
"I don't care, I shall go to law!"
The gallery was delighted. Bets were made, some people being certain
that Lupin would bring M. Gerbois to terms, others that he would not go
beyond threats. And the people felt a sort of apprehension; for the
adversaries were unevenly matched, the one being so fierce in his
attacks, while the other was as frightened as a hunted deer.
On Friday, there was a rush for the _Echo de France_ and the
agony-column on the fifth page was scanned with feverish eyes. There was
not a line addressed to "M. Ars. Lup." M. Gerbois had replied to Arsene
Lupin's demands with silence. It was a declaration of war.
That evening the papers contained the news that Mlle. Gerbois had been
kidnapped.
* * * * *
The most delightful factor in what I may call the Arsene Lupin
entertainment is the eminently ludicrous part played by the police.
Everything passes outside their knowledge. Lupin speaks, writes, warns,
orders, threatens, carries out his plans, as though there were no
police, no detectives, no magistrates, no impediment of any kind in
existence. They seem of no account to him whatever. No obstacle enters
into his calculations.
And yet the police struggle to do their best. The moment the name of
Arsene Lupin is mentioned, the whole force, from top to bottom, takes
fire, boils and foams with rage. He is the enemy, the enemy who mocks
you, provokes you, despises you, or, even worse, ignores you. And what
can one do against an enemy like that?
According to the evidence of the servant, Suzanne went out at twenty
minutes to ten. At five minutes past ten, her father, on leaving the
college, failed to see her on the pavement where she usually waited for
him. Everything, therefore, must have taken place in the course of the
short twenty minutes' walk which brought Suzanne from her door to the
college, or at least quite close to the college.
Two neighbours declared that they had passed her about three hundred
yards from the house. A lady had seen a girl walking along the avenue
whose description corresponded with Suzanne's. After that, all was
blank.
Inquiries were made on every side. The officials at the railway-stations
and the customs-barriers were questioned. They had seen nothing on that
day which could relate to the kidnapping of a young girl. However, a
grocer at Ville-d'Avray stated that he had supplied a closed motor-car,
coming from Paris, with petrol. There was a chauffeur on the front seat
and a lady with fair hair--exceedingly fair hair, the witness
said--inside. The car returned from Versailles an hour later. A block in
the traffic compelled it to slacken speed and the grocer was able to
perceive that there was now another lady seated beside the blonde lady
whom he had seen first. This second lady was wrapped up in veils and
shawls. No doubt it was Suzanne Gerbois.
Consequently, the abduction must have taken place in broad daylight, on
a busy road, in the very heart of the town! How? At what spot? Not a cry
had been heard, not a suspicious movement observed.
The grocer described the car, a Peugeot limousine, 24 horse-power, with
a dark blue body. Inquiries were made, on chance, of Mme. Bob-Walthour,
the manageress of the Grand Garage, who used to make a specialty of
motor-car elopements. She had, in fact, on Friday morning, hired out a
Peugeot limousine for the day to a fair-haired lady, whom she had not
seen since.
"But the driver?"
"He was a man called Ernest, whom I engaged the day before on the
strength of his excellent testimonials."
"Is he here?"
"No, he brought back the car and has not been here since."
"Can't we get hold of him?"
"Certainly, by applying to the people who recommended him. I will give
you the addresses."
The police called on these persons. None of them knew the man called
Ernest.
And every trail which they followed to find their way out of the
darkness led only to greater darkness and denser fogs.
M. Gerbois was not the man to maintain a contest which had opened in so
disastrous a fashion for him. Inconsolable at the disappearance of his
daughter and pricked with remorse, he capitulated. An advertisement
which appeared in the _Echo de France_ and aroused general comment
proclaimed his absolute and unreserved surrender. It was a complete
defeat: the war was over in four times twenty-four hours.
Two days later, M. Gerbois walked across the courtyard of the Credit
Foncier. He was shown in to the governor and handed him number 514,
series 23. The governor gave a start:
"Oh, so you have it? Did they give it back to you?"
"I mislaid it and here it is," replied M. Gerbois.
"But you said.... There was a question...."
"That's all lies and tittle-tattle."
"But nevertheless we should require some corroborative document."
"Will the major's letter do?"
"Certainly."
"Here it is."
"Very well. Please leave these papers with us. We are allowed a
fortnight in which to verify them. I will let you know when you can call
for the money. In the meanwhile, I think that you would be well-advised
to say nothing and to complete this business in the most absolute
silence."
"That is what I intend to do."
M. Gerbois did not speak, nor the governor either. But there are certain
secrets which leak out without any indiscretion having been committed,
and the public suddenly learnt that Arsene Lupin had had the pluck to
send number 514, series 23, back to M. Gerbois! The news was received
with a sort of stupefied admiration. What a bold player he must be, to
fling so important a trump as the precious ticket upon the table! True,
he had parted with it wittingly, in exchange for a card which equalized
the chances. But suppose the girl escaped? Suppose they succeeded in
recapturing his hostage?
The police perceived the enemy's weak point and redoubled their efforts.
With Arsene Lupin disarmed and despoiled by himself, caught in his own
toils, receiving not a single sou of the coveted million ... the laugh
would at once be on the other side.
But the question was to find Suzanne. And they did not find her, nor did
she escape!
"Very well," people said, "that's settled: Arsene has won the first
game. But the difficult part is still to come! Mlle. Gerbois is in his
hands, we admit, and he will not hand her over without the five hundred
thousand francs. But how and where is the exchange to take place? For
the exchange to take place, there must be a meeting; and what is to
prevent M. Gerbois from informing the police and thus both recovering
his daughter and keeping the money?"
The professor was interviewed. Greatly cast down, longing only for
silence, he remained impenetrable:
"I have nothing to say; I am waiting."
"And Mlle. Gerbois?"
"The search is being continued."
"But Arsene Lupin has written to you?"
"No."
"Do you swear that?"
"No."
"That means yes. What are his instructions?"
"I have nothing to say."
Maitre Detinan was next besieged and showed the same discretion.
"M. Lupin is my client," he replied, with an affectation of gravity.
"You will understand that I am bound to maintain the most absolute
reserve."
All these mysteries annoyed the gallery. Plots were evidently hatching
in the dark. Arsene Lupin was arranging and tightening the meshes of his
nets, while the police were keeping up a watch by day and night round
M. Gerbois. And people discussed the only three possible endings: arrest,
triumph, or grotesque and pitiful failure.
But, as it happened, public curiosity was destined to be only partially
satisfied; and the exact truth is revealed for the first time in these
pages.
On Thursday, the 12th of March, M. Gerbois received the notice from the
Credit Foncier, in an ordinary envelope.
At one o'clock on Friday, he took the train for Paris. A thousand notes
of a thousand francs each were handed to him at two.
While he was counting them over, one by one, with trembling hands--for
was this money not Suzanne's ransom?--two men sat talking in a cab drawn
up at a short distance from the main entrance. One of these men had
grizzled hair and a powerful face, which contrasted oddly with his dress
and bearing, which was that of a small clerk. It was Chief-Inspector
Ganimard, old Ganimard, Lupin's implacable enemy. And Ganimard said to
Detective-Sergeant Folenfant:
"The old chap won't be long ... we shall see him come out in five
minutes. Is everything ready?"
"Quite."
"How many are we?"
"Eight, including two on bicycles."
"And myself, who count as three. It's enough, but not too many. That
Gerbois must not escape us at any price ... if he does, we're diddled:
he'll meet Lupin at the place they have agreed upon; he'll swap the
young lady for the half-million; and the trick's done."
"But why on earth won't the old chap act with us? It would be so simple!
By giving us a hand in the game, he could keep the whole million."
"Yes, but he's afraid. If he tries to jockey the other, he won't get his
daughter back."
"What other?"
"Him."
Ganimard pronounced this word "him" in a grave and rather awe-struck
tone, as though he were speaking of a supernatural being who had already
played him a nasty trick or two.
"It's very strange," said Sergeant Folenfant, judiciously, "that we
should be reduced to protecting that gentleman against himself."
"With Lupin, everything is upside down," sighed Ganimard.
A minute elapsed.
"Look out!" he said.
M. Gerbois was leaving the bank. When he came to the end of the Rue des
Capucines, he turned down the boulevard, keeping to the left-hand side.
He walked away slowly, along the shops, and looked into the windows.
"Our friend's too quiet," said Ganimard. "A fellow with a million in his
pocket does not keep so quiet as all that."
"What can he do?"
"Oh, nothing, of course.... No matter, I mistrust him. It's Lupin,
Lupin...."
At that moment M. Gerbois went to a kiosk, bought some newspapers, took
his change, unfolded one of the sheets and, with outstretched arms,
began to read, while walking on with short steps. And, suddenly, with a
bound, he jumped into a motor-cab which was waiting beside the curb. The
power must have been on, for the car drove off rapidly, turned the
corner of the Madeleine and disappeared.
"By Jupiter!" cried Ganimard. "Another of his inventions!"
He darted forward and other men, at the same time as himself, ran round
the Madeleine. But he burst out laughing. The motor-car had broken down
at the beginning of the Boulevard Malesherbes and M. Gerbois was getting
out.
"Quick, Folenfant ... the driver ... perhaps it's the man called
Ernest."
Folenfant tackled the chauffeur. It was a man called Gaston, one of the
motor-cab company's drivers; a gentleman had engaged him ten minutes
before and had told him to wait by the newspaper-kiosk, "with steam up,"
until another gentleman came.
"And what address did the second fare give?" asked Folenfant.
"He gave me no address.... 'Boulevard Malesherbes ... Avenue de Messine
... give you an extra tip': that's all he said."
* * * * *
During this time, however, M. Gerbois, without losing a minute, had
sprung into the first passing cab:
"Drive to the Concorde tube-station!"
The professor left the tube at the Place du Palais-Royal, hurried into
another cab and drove to the Place de la Bourse. Here he went by tube
again, as far as the Avenue de Villiers, where he took a third cab:
"25, Rue Clapeyron!"
No. 25, Rue Clapeyron, is separated from the Boulevard des Batignolles
by the house at the corner. The professor went up to the first floor and
rang. A gentleman opened the door.
"Does Maitre Detinan live here?"
"I am Maitre Detinan. M. Gerbois, I presume?"
"That's it."
"I was expecting you. Pray come in."
When M. Gerbois entered the lawyer's office, the clock was striking
three and he at once said:
"This is the time he appointed. Isn't he here?"
"Not yet."
M. Gerbois sat down, wiped his forehead, looked at his watch as though
he did not know the time and continued, anxiously:
"Will he come?"
The lawyer replied:
"You are asking me something, sir, which I myself am most curious to
know. I have never felt so impatient in my life. In any case, if he
comes, he is taking a big risk, for the house has been closely watched
for the past fortnight.... They suspect me."
"And me even more," said the professor. "I am not at all sure that the
detectives set to watch me have been thrown off my track."
"But then...."
"It would not be my fault," cried the professor, vehemently, "and he can
have nothing to reproach me with. What did I promise to do? To obey his
orders. Well, I have obeyed his orders blindly: I cashed the ticket at
the time which he fixed and came on to you in the manner which he
ordered. I am responsible for my daughter's misfortune and I have kept
my engagements in all good faith. It is for him to keep his." And he
added, in an anxious voice, "He will bring back my daughter, won't he?"
"I hope so."
"Still ... you've seen him?"
"I? No. He simply wrote asking me to receive you both, to send away my
servants before three o'clock and to let no one into my flat between the
time of your arrival and his departure. If I did not consent to this
proposal, he begged me to let him know by means of two lines in the
_Echo de France_. But I am only too pleased to do Arsene Lupin a
service and I consent to everything."
M. Gerbois moaned:
"Oh, dear, how will it all end?"
He took the bank-notes from his pocket, spread them on the table and
divided them into two bundles of five hundred each. Then the two men sat
silent. From time to time, M. Gerbois pricked up his ears: wasn't that a
ring at the door-bell?... His anguish increased with every minute that
passed. And Maitre Detinan also experienced an impression that was
almost painful.
For a moment, in fact, the advocate lost all his composure. He rose
abruptly from his seat:
"We shan't see him.... How can we expect to?... It would be madness on
his part! He trusts us, no doubt: we are honest men, incapable of
betraying him. But the danger lies elsewhere."
And M. Gerbois, shattered, with his hands on the notes, stammered:
"If he would only come, oh, if he would only come! I would give all this
to have Suzanne back."
The door opened.
"Half will do, M. Gerbois."
Some one was standing on the threshold--a young man, fashionably
dressed--and M. Gerbois at once recognized the person who had accosted
him outside the curiosity-shop. He leapt toward him:
"And Suzanne? Where is my daughter?"
Arsene Lupin closed the door carefully and, quietly unbuttoning his
gloves, said to the lawyer:
"My dear maitre, I can never thank you sufficiently for your kindness in
consenting to defend my rights. I shall not forget it."
Maitre Detinan could only murmur:
"But you never rang.... I did not hear the door...."
"Bells and doors are things that have to do their work without ever
being heard. I am here all the same; and that is the great thing."
"My daughter! Suzanne! What have you done with her?" repeated the
professor.
"Heavens, sir," said Lupin, "what a hurry you're in! Come, calm
yourself; your daughter will be in your arms in a moment."
He walked up and down the room and then, in the tone of a magnate
distributing praises:
"I congratulate you, M. Gerbois, on the skilful way in which you acted
just now. If the motor hadn't had that ridiculous accident we should
simply have met at the Etoile and saved Maitre Detinan the annoyance of
this visit.... However, it was destined otherwise!"
He caught sight of the two bundles of bank-notes and cried:
"Ah, that's right! The million is there!... Let us waste no time....
Will you allow me?"
"But," said Maitre Detinan, placing himself in front of the table,
"Mlle. Gerbois is not here yet."
"Well?"
"Well, isn't her presence indispensable?"
"I see, I see! Arsene Lupin inspires only a partial confidence. He
pockets his half-million, without restoring the hostage. Ah, my dear
maitre, I am sadly misunderstood! Because fate has obliged me to perform
acts of a rather ... special character, doubts are cast upon my good
faith ... mine! I, a man all scruples and delicacy!... However, my dear
maitre, if you're afraid, open your window and call out. There are quite
a dozen detectives in the street."
"Do you think so?"
Arsene Lupin raised the blind:
"I doubt if M. Gerbois is capable of throwing Ganimard off the scent....
What did I tell you? There he is, the dear old chap!"
"Impossible!" cried the professor. "I swear to you, though...."
"That you have not betrayed me?... I don't doubt it, but the fellows are
clever. Look, there's Folenfant!... And Greaume!... And Dieuzy!... All
my best pals, what?"
Maitre Detinan looked at him in surprise. What calmness! He was laughing
with a happy laugh, as though he were amusing himself at some child's
game, with no danger threatening him.
This carelessness did even more than the sight of the detectives to
reassure the lawyer. He moved away from the table on which the
bank-notes lay.
Arsene Lupin took up the two bundles one after the other, counted
twenty-five notes from each of them and, handing the lawyer the fifty
bank-notes thus obtained, said:
"M. Gerbois' share of your fee, my dear maitre, and Arsene Lupin's. We
owe you that."
"You owe me nothing," said Maitre Detinan.
"What! After all the trouble we've given you!"
"You forget the pleasure it has been to me to take that trouble."
"You mean to say, my dear maitre, that you refuse to accept anything
from Arsene Lupin. That's the worst," he sighed, "of having a bad
reputation." He held out the fifty thousand francs to the professor.
"Monsieur, let me give you this in memory of our pleasant meeting: it
will be my wedding-present to Mlle. Gerbois."
M. Gerbois snatched at the notes, but protested:
"My daughter is not being married."
"She can't be married if you refuse your consent. But she is dying to be
married."
"What do you know about it?"
"I know that young ladies often cherish dreams without Papa's consent.
Fortunately, there are good geniuses, called Arsene Lupin, who discover
the secret of those charming souls hidden away in their writing-desks."
"Did you discover nothing else?" asked Maitre Detinan. "I confess that I
am very curious to know why that desk was the object of your
attentions."
"Historical reasons, my dear maitre. Although, contrary to M. Gerbois'
opinion, it contained no treasure beyond the lottery-ticket, of which I
did not know, I wanted it and had been looking for it for some time. The
desk, which is made of yew and mahogany, decorated with acanthus-leaf
capitals, was found in Marie Walewska's discreet little house at
Boulogne-sur-Seine and has an inscription on one of the drawers:
'_Dedicated to Napoleon I., Emperor of the French, by his most faithful
servant, Mancion._' Underneath are these words, carved with the point of
a knife: '_Thine, Marie._' Napoleon had it copied afterward for the
Empress Josephine, so that the writing-desk which people used to admire
at the Malmaison and which they still admire at the Garde-Meuble is only
an imperfect copy of the one which now forms part of my collection."
M. Gerbois sighed:
"Oh, dear! If I had only known this at the shop, how willingly I would
have let you have it!"
Arsene Lupin laughed:
"Yes; and you would, besides, have had the appreciable advantage of
keeping the whole of number 514, series 23, for yourself."
"And you would not have thought of kidnapping my daughter, whom all this
business must needs have upset."
"All what business?"
"The abduction ..."
"But, my dear sir, you are quite mistaken. Mlle. Gerbois was not
abducted."
"My daughter was not abducted!"
"Not at all. Kidnapping, abduction implies violence. Now Mlle. Gerbois
acted as a hostage of her own free will."
"Of her own free will!" repeated the professor, in confusion.
"And almost at her own request! Why, a quick-witted young lady like
Mlle. Gerbois, who, moreover, harbours a secret passion at the bottom of
her heart, was hardly likely to refuse the opportunity of securing her
dowry. Oh, I assure you it was easy enough to make her understand that
there was no other way of overcoming your resistance!"
Maitre Detanin was greatly amused. He put in:
"You must have found a difficulty in coming to terms. I can't believe
that Mlle. Gerbois allowed you to speak to her."
"I didn't. I have not even the honour of knowing her. A lady of my
acquaintance was good enough to undertake the negotiations."
"The blonde lady in the motor-car, I suppose?" said Maitre Detinan.
"Just so. Everything was settled at the first interview near the
college. Since then, Mlle. Gerbois and her new friend have been abroad,
have visited Belgium and Holland in the most agreeable and instructive
manner for a young girl. However, she will tell you everything
herself...."
The hall-door bell rang: three rings in quick succession, then a single
ring, then another single ring.
"There she is," said Lupin. "My dear maitre, if you would not mind...."
The lawyer ran to open the door.
* * * * *
Two young women entered. One of them flung herself into M. Gerbois'
arms. The other went up to Lupin. She was tall and shapely, with a very
pale face, and her fair hair, which glittered like gold, was parted into
two loosely waved bandeaux. Dressed in black, wearing no ornament beyond
a five-fold jet necklace, she nevertheless struck a note of elegance and
refinement.
Arsene Lupin spoke a few words to her and then, bowing to Mlle. Gerbois,
said:
"I must apologize to you, mademoiselle, for all this annoyance; but I
hope, nevertheless, that you have not been too unhappy...."
"Unhappy! I should even have been very happy, if it had not been for my
poor father."
"Then all is for the best. Embrace him once more and take the
opportunity--you will never have a better--of speaking to him about your
cousin."
"My cousin?... What do you mean?... I don't understand...."
"Oh, I think you understand.... Your cousin Philippe ... the young man
whose letters you kept so preciously...."
Suzanne blushed, lost countenance and then, taking Lupin's advice, threw
herself once more into her father's arms.
Lupin looked at them both with a melting eye:
"Ah, we are always rewarded for doing good! What a touching sight! Happy
father! Happy daughter! And to think that this happiness is your work,
Lupin! Those two beings will bless you later.... Your name will be
piously handed down to their children and their children's children....
Oh, family life!... Family life!..." He turned to the window. "Is our
dear Ganimard there still?... How he would love to witness this charming
display of affection!... But no, he is not there.... There is nobody ...
they're all gone.... By Jove, the position is growing serious!... I
shouldn't wonder if they were in the gateway by now ... or by the
porter's lodge ... or even on the stairs!"
M. Gerbois made an involuntary movement. Now that his daughter was
restored to him, he began to see things in their true light. The arrest
of his adversary meant half a million to him. Instinctively, he took a
step toward the door.... Lupin barred his way, as though by accident:
"Where are you going, M. Gerbois? To defend me against them? You are too
kind! Pray don't trouble. Besides, I assure you they are more perplexed
than I." And he continued, reflectively: "What do they know, when all is
said? That you are here ... and, perhaps, that Mlle. Gerbois is here
too, for they must have seen her come with an unknown lady. But they
have no idea that I am here. How could I have entered a house which they
searched this morning from cellar to garret? No, in all probability they
are waiting for me to catch me on the wing ... poor fellows!... Unless
they have guessed that the unknown lady was sent by me and presume that
she has been commissioned to effect the exchange.... In that case, they
are preparing to arrest her when she leaves...."
The bell rang.
Lupin stopped M. Gerbois with an abrupt gesture and, in a harsh and
peremptory voice, said:
"Stay where you are, sir! Think of your daughter and be reasonable; if
not.... As for you, Maitre Detinan, I have your word."
M. Gerbois stood rooted to the floor. The lawyer did not move.
Lupin took up his hat without the least show of haste. There was a
little dust on it; he brushed it with the back of his coat-sleeve:
"My dear maitre, if I can ever be of use to you.... My best wishes,
Mlle. Suzanne, and kind regards to M. Philippe." He took a heavy gold
hunter from his pocket. "M. Gerbois, it is now eighteen minutes to four:
I authorize you to leave this room at fourteen minutes to four.... Not a
moment before fourteen minutes to four.... Is it understood?"
"But they'll enter by force!" Maitre Detinan could not help saying.
"You forget the law, my dear maitre! Ganimard would never dare to
violate the sanctity of a Frenchman's home. We should have time for a
pleasant rubber. But forgive me, you all three seem a little upset and I
would not for the world abuse...."
He placed the watch on the table, opened the door of the room and,
addressing the fair-haired lady, said:
"Shall we go, dear?"
He stood back for her to pass, made a parting and very respectful bow to
Mlle. Gerbois, walked out and closed the door after him. And they heard
him, in the hall, saying aloud:
"Good-afternoon, Ganimard, how are you? Remember me very kindly to Mme.
Ganimard.... I must drop in on her to lunch one of these days....
Good-bye, Ganimard!"
The bell rang again, sharply, violently, followed by repeated knocks and
by the sound of voices on the landing....
"A quarter to four," stammered M. Gerbois.
After a few seconds, he stepped boldly into the hall. Arsene Lupin and
the fair-haired lady were not there.
"Father!... You mustn't!... Wait!" cried Suzanne.
"Wait? You're mad!... Show consideration to that scoundrel!... And what
about the half-million?..."
He opened the door.
Ganimard rushed in:
"Where's that lady?... And Lupin?"
"He was there ... he is there now."
Ganimard gave a shout of triumph:
"We've got him!... The house is surrounded."
Maitre Detinan objected:
"But the servants' staircase?"
"The servants' staircase leads to the courtyard and there's only one
outlet, the front door: I have ten men watching it."
"But he did not come in by the front door.... He won't go out that way
either...."
"Which way, then?" jeered Ganimard. "Through the air?"
He drew back a curtain. A long passage was revealed, leading to the
kitchen. Ganimard ran down it and found that the door of the servants'
staircase was double-locked.
Opening the window, he called to one of the detectives:
"Seen any one?"
"No, sir."
"Then," he exclaimed, "they are in the flat!... They are hiding in one
of the rooms!... It is physically impossible for them to have
escaped.... Ah, Lupin, my lad, you did me once, but I'm having my
revenge this time!..."
* * * * *
At seven o'clock in the evening, astonished at receiving no news, the
head of the detective-service, M. Dudouis, called at the Rue Clapeyron
in person. He put a few questions to the men who were watching the
house and then went up to Maitre Detinan, who took him to his room.
There he saw a man, or rather a man's two legs struggling on the carpet,
while the body to which they belonged was stuffed up the chimney.
"Hi!... Hi!..." yelped a stifled voice.
And a more distant voice, from right above, echoed:
"Hi!... Hi!..."
M. Dudouis laughed and exclaimed:
"Well, Ganimard, what are you playing sweep for?"
The inspector withdrew his body from the chimney. He was unrecognizable,
with his black face, his sooty clothes and his eyes glowing with fever.
"I'm looking for him," he growled.
"For whom?"
"Arsene Lupin.... Arsene Lupin and his lady friend."
"But what next? You surely don't imagine they're hiding up the chimney?"
Ganimard rose to his feet, put his five soot-covered fingers on the
sleeve of his superior's coat and, in a hollow, angry voice, said:
"Where would you have them be, chief? They must be somewhere. They are
beings of flesh and blood, like you and me; they can't vanish into thin
air."
"No; but they vanish for all that."
"Where? Where? The house is surrounded! There are men on the roof!"
"What about the next house?"
"There's no communication."
"The flats on the other floors?"
"I know all the tenants. They have seen nobody. They have heard nobody."
"Are you sure you know them all?"
"Every one. The porter answers for them. Besides, as an additional
precaution, I have posted a man in each flat."
"We must find them, you know."
"That's what I say, chief, that's what I say. We must and we shall,
because they are both here ... they can't be anywhere else. Be easy,
chief; if I don't catch them to-night, I shall to-morrow.... I shall
spend the night here!... I shall spend the night here!..."
He did, in fact, spend the night there and the next night and the night
after that. And, when three whole days and three nights had elapsed, not
only had he failed to discover the elusive Lupin and his no less elusive
companion, but he had not even observed the slightest clue upon which
to found the slightest supposition.
And that is why he refused to budge from his first opinion:
"Once there's no trace of their flight, they must be here!"
It is possible that, in the depths of his mind, he was less firmly
convinced. But he refused to admit as much to himself. No, a thousand
times no: a man and a woman do not vanish into space like the wicked
genii in the fairy-tales! And, without losing courage, he continued his
searchings and investigations, as though he hoped to discover them
hidden in some impenetrable retreat, bricked up in the walls of the
house.