HOLMLOCK SHEARS OPENS HOSTILITIES
"What can I get you, gentlemen?"
"Anything you please," replied Arsene Lupin, in the voice of a man who
takes no interest in his food. "Anything you please, but no meat or
wine."
The waiter walked away, with a scornful air.
I exclaimed:
"Do you mean to say that you are still a vegetarian?"
"Yes, more than ever," said Lupin.
"From taste? Conviction? Habit?"
"For reasons of health."
"And do you never break your rule?"
"Oh, yes ... when I go out to dinner, so as not to appear eccentric."
We were dining near the Gare du Nord, inside a little restaurant where
Arsene Lupin had invited me to join him. He is rather fond of
telegraphing to me, occasionally, in the morning and arranging a meeting
of this kind in some corner or other of Paris. He always arrives in the
highest spirits, rejoicing in life, unaffectedly and good-humouredly,
and always has some surprising anecdote to tell me, some memory, the
story of some adventure that I have not heard before.
That evening, he seemed to me to let himself go even more than usual. He
laughed and chatted with a singular animation and with that delicate
irony which is all his own, an irony devoid of bitterness, light and
spontaneous. It was a pleasure to see him like that, and I could not
help expressing my satisfaction.
"Oh, yes," he cried, "I have days when everything seems delightful, when
life bubbles in me like an infinite treasure which I can never exhaust.
And yet goodness knows that I live without counting!"
"Too much so, perhaps."
"The treasure is infinite, I tell you! I can spend myself and squander
myself, I can fling my strength and my youth to the four winds of heaven
and I am only making room for greater and more youthful strength.... And
then, really, my life is so beautiful!... I need only have the
wish--isn't it so?--to become, from one day to the next, anything: an
orator, a great manufacturer, a politician.... Well, I swear to you, the
idea would never enter my head! Arsene Lupin I am, Arsene Lupin I
remain. And I search history in vain for a destiny to compare with mine,
fuller, more intense.... Napoleon? Yes, perhaps.... But then it is
Napoleon at the end of his imperial career, during the campaign in
France, when Europe was crushing him and when he was wondering whether
each battle was not the last which he would fight."
Was he serious? Was he jesting? The tone of his voice had grown more
eager and he continued:
"Everything's there, you see: danger! The uninterrupted impression of
danger! Oh, to breathe it like the air one breathes, to feel it around
one, blowing, roaring, lying in wait, approaching!... And, in the midst
of the storm, to remain calm ... not to flinch!... If you do, you are
lost.... There is only one sensation to equal it, that of the chauffeur
driving his car. But that drive lasts for a morning, whereas mine lasts
all through life!"
"How lyrical we are!" I cried. "And you would have me believe that you
have no special reason for excitement!"
He smiled.
"You're a shrewd enough psychologist," he replied. "There is something
more, as you say."
He poured out a tumbler of water, drank it down and asked:
"Have you seen the _Temps_ to-day?"
"No."
"Holmlock Shears was to have crossed the Channel this afternoon; he
arrived in Paris at six."
"The devil he did! And why?"
"He's taking a little trip at the expense of the Crozons, Hautrec's
nephew and the Gerbois fellow. They all met at the Gare du Nord and went
on to see Ganimard. The six of them are in conference at this moment."
Notwithstanding the immense curiosity with which he inspires me, I never
venture to question Arsene Lupin as to the acts of his private life
until he has spoken of them to me himself. It is a matter of discretion
on my part, with which I never compound. Besides, at that time, his name
had not yet been mentioned, at least not publicly, in connection with
the blue diamond. I waited patiently, therefore. He continued:
"The _Temps_ also prints an interview with that excellent Ganimard,
according to which a certain blonde lady, said to be my friend, is
supposed to have murdered Baron d'Hautrec and tried to steal his famous
ring from Madame de Crozon. And it goes without saying that he accuses
me of being the instigator of both these crimes."
A slight shiver passed through me. Could it be true? Was I to believe
that the habit of theft, his mode of life, the sheer logic of events had
driven this man to murder? I looked at him. He seemed so calm! His eyes
met mine so frankly!
I examined his hands: they were modelled with infinite daintiness, were
really inoffensive hands, the hands of an artist.
"Ganimard is a lunatic," I muttered.
He protested:
"Not a bit of it, not a bit of it! Ganimard is shrewd enough ...
sometimes he's even quick-witted."
"Quick-witted!"
"Yes, yes. For instance, this interview is a masterstroke. First, he
announces the coming of his English rival, so as to put me on my guard
and make Shears's task more difficult. Secondly, he specifies the exact
point to which he has carried the case, so that Shears may enjoy only
the benefit of his own discoveries. That's fair fighting."
"Still you have two adversaries to deal with now; and such
adversaries!"
"Oh, one of them doesn't count."
"And the other?"
"Shears? Oh, I admit that he's more of a match for me; but that's just
what I love and why you see me in such good spirits. To begin with,
there's the question of my vanity: they consider that I'm worth asking
the famous Englishman to meet. Next, think of the pleasure which a
fighter like myself must take in the prospect of a duel with Holmlock
Shears. Well, I shall have to exert myself to the utmost. For I know the
fellow: he won't retreat a step."
"He's a clever man."
"A very clever man. As a detective, I doubt if his equal exists, or has
ever existed. Only, I have one advantage over him, which is that he's
attacking, while I'm on the defensive. Mine is the easier game to play.
Besides ..." He gave an imperceptible smile before completing his
phrase. "Besides, I know his way of fighting, and he does not know mine.
And I have a few sly thrusts in store for him which will give him
something to think about...."
He tapped the table lightly with his fingers and flung out little
sentences with a delighted air:
"Arsene Lupin versus Holmlock Shears! France versus England.... Revenge
for Trafalgar at last!... Ah, the poor wretch ... he little thinks that
I am prepared ... and a Lupin armed...."
He stopped suddenly, seized with a fit of coughing, and hid his face in
his napkin, as though something had gone down the wrong way.
"What is it?" I asked. "A crumb?... Why don't you take some water?"
"No, it's not that," he gasped.
"What, then?"
"I want air."
"Shall I open the window?"
"No, I shall go out.... Quick, give me my hat and coat.... I'm off!"
"But what does it all mean?"
"You see the taller of those two men who have just come in? Well, I want
you to keep on my left as we go out, to prevent his seeing me."
"The one sitting behind you?..."
"Yes.... For personal reasons, I prefer.... I'll tell you why
outside...."
"But who is it?"
"Holmlock Shears."
He made a violent effort to overcome his agitation, as though he felt
ashamed of it, put down his napkin, drank a glass of water and then,
quite recovered, said, with a smile:
"It's funny, isn't it? I'm not easily excited but this unexpected
meeting...."
"What are you afraid of, seeing that no one can recognize you under all
your transformations? I myself, each time I see you, feel as if I were
with a new person."
"_He_ will recognize me," said Arsene Lupin. "_He_ saw me only once,[1]
but I felt that he saw me for life and that what he saw was not my
appearance, which I can always alter, but the very being that I am....
And then ... and then ... I wasn't prepared.... What a curious
meeting!... In this little restaurant!..."
"Well," said I, "shall we go?"
"No ... no...."
"What do you propose to do?"
"The best thing will be to act frankly ... to trust him."
"You can't be serious?"
"Oh, but I am.... Besides, it would be a good thing to question him, to
know what he knows.... Ah, there, I feel that his eyes are fixed on my
neck, on my shoulders.... He's trying to think ... to remember...."
He reflected. I noticed a mischievous smile on his lips; and then,
obeying, I believe, some whim of his frivolous nature rather than the
needs of the position itself, he rose abruptly, spun round on his heels
and, with a bow, said, gaily:
"What a stroke of luck! Who would have thought it?... Allow me to
introduce my friend."
For a second or two, the Englishman was taken aback. Then he made an
instinctive movement, as though he were ready to fling himself upon
Arsene Lupin. Lupin shook his head:
"That would be a mistake ... to say nothing of the bad taste of it ...
and the uselessness!"
The Englishman turned his head from side to side, as though looking for
assistance.
"That's no better.... And also, are you quite sure that you are entitled
to lay hands upon me? Come, be a sportsman!"
The display of sportsmanlike qualities was not particularly tempting on
this occasion. Nevertheless, it probably appeared to Shears to be the
wisest course; for he half rose and coldly introduced his companion:
"Mr. Wilson, my friend and assistant ... M. Arsene Lupin."
Wilson's stupefaction made us all laugh. His eyes and mouth, both wide
open, drew two streaks across his expansive face, with its skin gleaming
and tight-stretched like an apple's, while his bristly hair stood up
like so many thick-set, hardy blades of grass.
"Wilson, you don't seem able to conceal your bewilderment at one of the
most natural incidents in the world," grinned Holmlock Shears, with a
touch of sarcasm in his voice.
Wilson stammered:
"Why ... why don't you arrest him?"
"Don't you see, Wilson, that the gentleman is standing between the door
and myself and at two steps from the door. Before I moved a finger, he
would be outside."
"Don't let that stand in your way," said Lupin.
He walked round the table and sat down so that the Englishman was
between him and the door, thus placing himself at his mercy. Wilson
looked at Shears to see if he might admire this piece of pluck. Shears
remained impenetrable. But, after a moment, he called.
"Waiter!"
The waiter came up.
"Four whiskeys and sodas."
Peace was signed ... until further orders. Soon after, seated all four
round one table, we were quietly chatting.
* * * * *
Footnote
[1] See _The Seven of Hearts_, by Maurice Leblanc. Chapter IX:
_Holmlock Shears Arrives Too Late_.
* * * * *
Holmlock Shears is a man ... of the sort one meets every day. He is
about fifty years of age and looks like a decent City clerk who has
spent his life keeping books at a desk. He has nothing to distinguish
him from the ordinary respectable Londoner, with his clean-shaven face
and his somewhat heavy appearance, nothing except his terribly keen,
bright, penetrating eyes.
And then, of course, he is Holmlock Shears, that is to say, a sort of
miracle of intuition, of insight, of perspicacity, of shrewdness. It is
as though nature had amused herself by taking the two most extraordinary
types of detective that fiction had invented, Poe's Dupin and Gaboriau's
Lecoq, in order to build up one in her own fashion, more extraordinary
yet and more unreal. And, upon my word, any one hearing of the
adventures which have made the name of Holmlock Shears famous all over
the world must feel inclined to ask if he is not a legendary person, a
hero who has stepped straight from the brain of some great novel-writer,
of a Conan Doyle, for instance.
He at once, when Arsene Lupin asked him how long he meant to stay, led
the conversation into its right channel and replied:
"That depends upon yourself, M. Lupin."
"Oh," exclaimed the other, laughing, "if it depended on me, I should ask
you to take to-night's boat back."
"To-night is rather early. But I hope in a week or ten days...."
"Are you in such a hurry?"
"I am very busy. There's the robbery at the Anglo-Chinese Bank; and Lady
Eccleston has been kidnapped, as you know.... Tell me, M. Lupin, do you
think a week will do?"
"Amply, if you confine yourself to the two cases connected with the blue
diamond. It will just give me time to take my precautions, supposing the
solution of those two mysteries to give you certain advantages over me
that might endanger my safety."
"Yes," said the Englishman, "I expect to have gained those advantages in
a week or ten days."
"And to have me arrested on the eleventh?"
"On the tenth, at the very latest."
Lupin reflected and, shaking his head:
"It will be difficult ... it will be difficult...."
"Difficult, yes, but possible and, therefore, certain...."
"Absolutely certain," said Wilson, as though he himself had clearly
perceived the long series of operations which would lead his friend to
the result announced.
Holmlock Shears smiled:
"Wilson, who knows what he is talking about, is there to confirm what I
say." And he went on, "Of course, I have not all the cards in my hands,
because the case is already a good many months old. I have not the
factors, the clues upon which I am accustomed to base my inquiries."
"Such as mud-stains and cigarette-ashes," said Wilson, with an air of
importance.
"But, in addition to the remarkable conclusions arrived at by
M. Ganimard, I have at my service all the articles written on the
subject, all the evidence collected and, consequently, a few ideas
of my own regarding the mystery."
"A few views suggested to us either by analysis or hypothesis," added
Wilson, sententiously.
"Would it be indiscreet," said Arsene Lupin, in the deferential tone
which he adopted toward Shears, "would it be indiscreet to ask what
general opinion you have been able to form?"
It was really most stimulating to see those two men seated together,
with their elbows on the table, arguing solemnly and dispassionately, as
though they were trying to solve a steep problem or to come to an
agreement on some controversial point. And this was coupled with a very
delicate irony, which both of them, as experts and artists, thoroughly
enjoyed. As for Wilson, he was in the seventh heaven.
Shears slowly filled his pipe, lit it and said:
"I consider that this case is infinitely less complicated than it
appears at first sight."
"Very much less," echoed Wilson, faithfully.
"I say the case, for, in my opinion, there is but one case. The death of
Baron d'Hautrec, the story of the ring and--don't let us forget
that--the mystery of number 514, series 23, are only the different
aspects of what we may call the puzzle of the blonde lady. Now, in my
opinion, what lies before me is simply to discover the link which
connects these three phases of the same story, the particular fact which
proves the uniformity of the three methods. Ganimard, who is a little
superficial in his judgments, sees this uniformity in the faculty of
disappearing, in the power of coming and going unseen. This
intervention of miracles does not satisfy me."
"Well?"
"Well, according to me," said Shears, decidedly, "the characteristic
shared by the three incidents lies in your manifest and evident,
although hitherto unperceived intention to have the affair performed on
a stage which you have previously selected. This points to something
more than a plan on your part: a necessity rather, a _sine qua non_ of
success."
"Could you give a few particulars?"
"Easily. For instance, from the commencement of your contest with
M. Gerbois, it was _evident_ that Maitre Detinan's flat was the place
selected by you, the inevitable place at which you were all to meet. No
place seemed quite as safe to you, so much so that you made what one
might almost call a public appointment there with the blonde lady and
Mlle. Gerbois."
"The daughter of the professor," explained Wilson.
"Let us now speak of the blue diamond. Did you try to get hold of it
during all the years that Baron d'Hautrec had it in his possession? No.
But the baron moves into his brother's house: six months later,
Antoinette Brehat appears upon the scene and the first attempt is
made.... You fail to secure the diamond and the sale takes place, amid
great excitement, at the Hotel Drouot. Is the sale free? Is the richest
bidder sure of getting the diamond? Not at all. At the moment when
Herschmann is about to become the owner, a lady has a threatening letter
thrust into his hand and the diamond goes to the Comtesse de Crozon, who
has been worked upon and influenced by the same lady. Does it vanish at
once? No: you lack the facilities. So an interval ensues. But the
countess moves to her country-house. This is what you were waiting for.
The ring disappears."
"To reappear in the tooth-powder of Bleichen, the consul," objected
Lupin. "How odd!"
"Come, come!" said Shears, striking the table with his fist. "Tell that
to the marines. You can take in fools with that, but not an old fox like
me."
"What do you mean?"
Shears took his time, as though he wished to save up his effect. Then he
said:
"The blue diamond found in the tooth-powder is an imitation diamond. The
real one you kept."
Arsene Lupin was silent for a moment and then, with his eyes fixed on
the Englishman, said very simply:
"You're a great man, sir."
"Isn't he?" said Wilson, emphatically and gaping with admiration.
"Yes," said Lupin, "everything becomes cleared up and appears in its
true sense. Not one of the examining magistrates, not one of the special
reporters who have been exciting themselves about these cases has come
half as near the truth. I look upon you as a marvel of insight and
logic."
"Pooh!" said the Englishman, flattered at the compliment paid him by so
great an expert. "It only needed a little thought."
"It needed to know how to use one's thought; and there are so few who do
know. But, now that the field of surmise has been narrowed and the
ground swept clear...."
"Well, now, all that I have to do is to discover why the three cases
were enacted at 25, Rue Clapeyron, at 134, Avenue Henri-Martin and
within the walls of the Chateau de Crozon. The whole case lies there.
The rest is mere talk and child's play. Don't you agree?"
"I agree."
"In that case, M. Lupin, am I not right in saying that I shall have
finished my business in ten days?"
"In ten days, yes, the whole truth will be known."
"And you will be arrested."
"No."
"No?"
"For me to be arrested there would have to be a conjunction of such
unlikely circumstances, a series of such stupefying pieces of ill-luck,
that I cannot admit the possibility."
"What neither circumstances nor luck may be able to effect, M. Lupin,
can be brought about by one man's will and persistence."
"If the will and persistence of another man do not oppose an invincible
obstacle to that plan, Mr. Shears."
"There is no such thing as an invincible obstacle, M. Lupin."
The two exchanged a penetrating glance, free from provocation on either
side, but calm and fearless. It was the clash of two swords about to
open the combat. It sounded clear and frank.
"Joy!" cried Lupin. "Here's a man at last! An adversary is a _rara avis_
at any time; and this one is Holmlock Shears! We shall have some
sport."
"You're not afraid?" asked Wilson.
"Very nearly, Mr. Wilson," said Lupin, rising, "and the proof is that I
am going to hurry to make good my retreat ... else I might risk being
caught napping. Ten days, we said, Mr. Shears?"
"Ten days. This is Sunday. It will all be over by Wednesday week."
"And I shall be under lock and key?"
"Without the slightest doubt."
"By Jove! And I was congratulating myself on my quiet life! No bothers,
a good, steady little business, the police sent to the right about and a
comforting sense of the general sympathy that surrounds me.... We shall
have to change all this! It is the reverse of the medal.... After
sunshine comes rain.... This is no time for laughing! Good-bye."
"Look sharp!" said Wilson, full of solicitude on behalf of a person whom
Shears inspired with such obvious respect. "Don't lose a minute."
"Not a minute, Mr. Wilson, except to tell you how pleased I have been to
meet you and how I envy the leader who has an assistant so valuable as
yourself."
Courteous bows were exchanged, as between two adversaries on the
fencing-ground who bear each other no hatred, but who are constrained
by fate to fight to the death. And Lupin took my arm and dragged me
outside:
"What do you say to that, old fellow? There's a dinner that will be
worth describing in your memoirs of me!"
He closed the door of the restaurant and, stopping a little way off:
"Do you smoke?"
"No, but no more do you, surely."
"No more do I."
He lit a cigarette with a wax match which he waved several times to put
it out. But he at once flung away the cigarette, ran across the road and
joined two men who had emerged from the shadow, as though summoned by a
signal. He talked to them for a few minutes on the opposite pavement and
then returned to me:
"I beg your pardon; but I shall have my work cut out with that
confounded Shears. I swear, however, that he has not done with Lupin
yet.... By Jupiter, I'll show the fellow the stuff I'm made of!... Good
night.... The unspeakable Wilson is right: I have not a minute to lose."
He walked rapidly away.
Thus ended that strange evening, or, at least that part of it with which
I had to do. For many other incidents occurred during the hours that
followed, events which the confidences of the others who were present at
that dinner have fortunately enabled me to reconstruct in detail.
* * * * *
At the very moment when Lupin left me, Holmlock Shears took out his
watch and rose in his turn:
"Twenty to nine. At nine o'clock, I am to meet the count and countess at
the railway station."
"Let's go!" cried Wilson, tossing off two glasses of whiskey in
succession.
They went out.
"Wilson, don't turn your head.... We may be followed: if so, let us act
as though we don't care whether we are or not.... Tell me, Wilson,
what's your opinion: why was Lupin in that restaurant?"
Wilson, without hesitation, replied:
"To get some dinner."
"Wilson, the longer we work together, the more clearly I perceive the
constant progress you are making. Upon my word, you're becoming
amazing."
Wilson blushed with satisfaction in the dark; and Shears resumed:
"Yes, he went to get some dinner and then, most likely, to make sure if
I am really going to Crozon, as Ganimard says I am, in his interview. I
shall leave, therefore, so as not to disappoint him. But, as it is a
question of gaining time upon him, I shall not leave."
"Ah!" said Wilson, nonplussed.
"I want you, old chap, to go down this street. Take a cab, take two
cabs, three cabs. Come back later to fetch the bags which we left in the
cloak room and then drive as fast as you can to the Elysee-Palace."
"And what am I to do at the Elysee-Palace?"
"Ask for a room, go to bed, sleep the sleep of the just and await my
instructions."
* * * * *
Wilson, proud of the important task allotted to him, went off. Holmlock
Shears took his ticket at the railway station and entered the Amiens
express, in which the Comte and Comtesse de Crozon had already taken
their seats.
He merely bowed to them, lit a second pipe and smoked it placidly,
standing, in the corridor.
The train started. Ten minutes later, he came and sat down beside the
countess and asked:
"Have you the ring on you, madame?"
"Yes."
"Please let me look at it."
He took it and examined it:
"As I thought: it is a faked diamond."
"Faked?"
"Yes, by a new process which consists in subjecting diamond-dust to
enormous heat until it melts ... whereupon it is simply reformed into a
single diamond."
"Why, but my diamond is real!"
"Yes, yours; but this is not yours."
"Where is mine, then?"
"In the hands of Arsene Lupin."
"And this one?"
"This one was put in its place and slipped into Herr Bleichen's
tooth-powder flask, where you found it."
"Then it's an imitation?"
"Absolutely."
Nonplussed and overwhelmed, the countess said nothing more, while her
husband, refusing to believe the statement, turned the jewel over and
over in his fingers. She finished by stammering out:
"But it's impossible! Why didn't they just simply take it? And how did
they get it?"
"That's just what I mean to try to discover."
"At Crozon?"
"No, I shall get out at Creil and return to Paris. That's where the
game between Arsene Lupin and myself must be played out. The tricks will
count the same, wherever we make them; but it is better that Lupin
should think that I am out of town."
"Still ..."
"What difference can it make to you, madame? The main object is your
diamond, is it not?"
"Yes."
"Well, set your mind at rest. Only a little while ago, I gave an
undertaking which will be much more difficult to keep. On the word of
Holmlock Shears, you shall have the real diamond back."
The train slowed down. He put the imitation diamond in his pocket and
opened the carriage-door. The count cried:
"Take care; that's the wrong side!"
"Lupin will lose my tracks this way, if he's having me shadowed.
Good-bye."
A porter protested. The Englishman made for the station-master's office.
Fifty minutes later, he jumped into a train which brought him back to
Paris a little before midnight.
He ran across the station into the refreshment room, went out by the
other door and sprang into a cab:
"Drive to the Rue Clapeyron."
After making sure that he was not being followed, he stopped the cab at
the commencement of the street and began to make a careful examination
of the house in which Maitre Detinan lived and of the two adjoining
houses. He paced off certain distances and noted the measurements in his
memorandum book:
"Now drive to the Avenue Henri-Martin."
He dismissed his cab at the corner of the avenue and the Rue de la
Pompe, walked along the pavement to No. 134 and went through the same
performance in front of the house which Baron d'Hautrec had occupied and
the two houses by which it was hemmed in on either side, measuring the
width of their respective frontages and calculating the depth of the
little gardens in front of the houses.
The avenue was deserted and very dark under its four rows of trees, amid
which an occasional gas-jet seemed to struggle vainly against the
thickness of the gloom. One of these lamps threw a pale light upon a
part of the house and Shears saw the notice "To Let" hanging on the
railings, saw the two neglected walks that encircled the miniature lawn
and the great empty windows of the uninhabited house.
"That's true," he thought. "There has been no tenant since the baron's
death.... Ah, if I could just get in and make a preliminary visit!"
The idea no sooner passed through his mind than he wanted to put it into
execution. But how to manage? The height of the gate made it impossible
for him to climb it. He took an electric lantern from his pocket, as
well as a skeleton key which he always carried. To his great surprise,
he found that one of the doors of the gate was standing ajar. He,
therefore, slipped into the garden, taking care not to close the gate
behind him. He had not gone three steps, when he stopped. A glimmer of
light had passed along one of the windows on the second floor.
And the glimmer passed along a second window and a third, while he was
able to see nothing but a shadow outlined against the walls of the
rooms. And the glimmer descended from the second floor to the first and,
for a long time, wandered from room to room.
"Who on earth can be walking about, at one in the morning, in the house
where Baron d'Hautrec was murdered?" thought Shears, feeling immensely
interested.
There was only one way of finding out, which was to enter the house
himself. He did not hesitate. But the man must have seen him as he
crossed the belt of light cast by the gas-jet and made his way to the
steps, for the glimmer suddenly went out and Shears did not see it
again.
He softly tried the door at the top of the steps. It was open also.
Hearing no sound, he ventured to penetrate the darkness, felt for the
knob of the baluster, found it and went up one floor. The same silence,
the same darkness continued to reign.
On reaching the landing, he entered one of the rooms and went to the
window, which showed white in the dim light of the night outside.
Through the window, he caught sight of the man, who had doubtless gone
down by another staircase and out by another door and was now slipping
along the shrubs, on the left, that lined the wall separating the two
gardens:
"Dash it!" exclaimed Shears. "He'll escape me!"
He rushed downstairs and leapt into the garden, with a view to cutting
off the man's retreat. At first, he saw no one; and it was some seconds
before he distinguished, among the confused heap of shrubs, a darker
form which was not quite stationary.
The Englishman paused to reflect. Why had the fellow not tried to run
away when he could easily have done so? Was he staying there to spy, in
his turn, upon the intruder who had disturbed him in his mysterious
errand?
"In any case," thought Shears, "it is not Lupin. Lupin would be
cleverer. It must be one of his gang."
Long minutes passed. Shears stood motionless, with his eyes fixed upon
the adversary who was watching him. But, as the adversary was motionless
too and as the Englishman was not the man to hang about doing nothing,
he felt to see if the cylinder of his revolver worked, loosened his
dagger in its sheath and walked straight up to the enemy, with the cool
daring and the contempt of danger which make him so formidable.
A sharp sound: the man was cocking his revolver. Shears rushed into the
shrubbery. The other had no time to turn: the Englishman was upon him.
There was a violent and desperate struggle, amid which Shears was aware
that the man was making every effort to draw his knife. But Shears,
stimulated by the thought of his coming victory and by the fierce
longing to lay hold at once of this accomplice of Arsene Lupin's, felt
an irresistible strength welling up within himself. He threw his
adversary, bore upon him with all his weight and, holding him down with
his five fingers clutching at his throat like so many claws, he felt for
his electric lantern with the hand that was free, pressed the button and
threw the light upon his prisoner's face:
"Wilson!" he shouted, in terror.
"Holmlock Shears!" gasped a hollow, stifled voice.
* * * * *
They remained long staring at each other, without exchanging a word,
dumbfounded, stupefied. The air was torn by the horn of a motor-car. A
breath of wind rustled through the leaves. And Shears did not stir, his
fingers still fixed in Wilson's throat, which continued to emit an ever
fainter rattle.
And, suddenly, Shears, overcome with rage, let go his friend, but only
to seize him by the shoulders and shake him frantically:
"What are you doing here? Answer me!... What are you here for?... Who
told you to hide in the shrubbery and watch me?"
"Watch you?" groaned Wilson. "But I didn't know it was you."
"Then what? Why are you here? I told you to go to bed."
"I did go to bed."
"I told you to go to sleep."
"I did."
"You had no business to wake up."
"Your letter...."
"What letter?"
"The letter from you which a commissionaire brought me at the hotel."
"A letter from me? You're mad!"
"I assure you."
"Where is the letter?"
Wilson produced a sheet of note-paper and, by the light of his lantern,
Shears read, in amazement:
"Get up at once, Wilson, and go to the Avenue Henri-Martin as
fast as you can. The house is empty. Go in, inspect it, make out
an exact plan and go back to bed.
"HOLMLOCK SHEARS."
"I was busy measuring the rooms," said Wilson, "when I saw a shadow in
the garden. I had only one idea...."
"To catch the shadow.... The idea was excellent.... Only, look here,
Wilson," said Shears, helping his friend up and leading him away, "next
time you get a letter from me, make sure first that it's not a forgery."
"Then the letter was not from you?" asked Wilson, who began to have a
glimmering of the truth.
"No, worse luck!"
"Who wrote it, then?"
"Arsene Lupin."
"But with what object?"
"I don't know, and that's just what bothers me. Why the deuce should he
take the trouble to disturb your night's rest? If it were myself, I
could understand, but you.... I can't see what interest...."
"I am anxious to get back to the hotel."
"So am I, Wilson."
They reached the gate. Wilson, who was in front, took hold of one of the
bars and pulled it:
"Hullo!" he said. "Did you shut it?"
"Certainly not: I left the gate ajar."
"But ..."
Shears pulled in his turn and then frantically flung himself upon the
lock. An oath escaped him:
"Damn it all! It's locked!... The gate's locked!"
He shook the gate with all his might, but, soon realizing the
hopelessness of his exertions, let his arms fall to his sides in
discouragement and jerked out:
"I understand the whole thing now: it's his doing! He foresaw that I
should get out at Creil and he laid a pretty little trap for me, in case
I should come to start my inquiry to-night. In addition, he had the
kindness to send you to keep me company in my captivity. All this to
make me lose a day and also, no doubt, to show me that I would do much
better to mind my own business...."
"That is to say that we are his prisoners."
"You speak like a book. Holmlock Shears and Wilson are the prisoners of
Arsene Lupin. The adventure is beginning splendidly.... But no, no, I
refuse to believe...."
A hand touched his shoulder. It was Wilson's hand.
"Look," he said. "Up there ... a light...."
It was true: there was a light visible through one of the windows on the
first floor.
They both raced up, each by his own staircase, and reached the door of
the lighted room at the same time. A candle-end was burning in the
middle of the floor. Beside it stood a basket, from which protruded the
neck of a bottle, the legs of a chicken and half a loaf of bread.
Shears roared with laughter:
"Splendid! He gives us our supper. It's an enchanted palace, a regular
fairy-land! Come, Wilson, throw off that dismal face. This is all very
amusing."
"Are you sure it's very amusing?" moaned Wilson, dolefully.
"Sure?" cried Shears, with a gaiety that was too boisterous to be quite
natural. "Of course I'm sure! I never saw anything more amusing in my
life. It's first-rate farce.... What a master of chaff this Arsene Lupin
is!... He tricks you, but he does it so gracefully!... I wouldn't give
my seat at this banquet for all the gold in the world.... Wilson, old
chap, you disappoint me. Can I have been mistaken in you? Are you really
deficient in that nobility of character which makes a man bear up under
misfortune? What have you to complain of? At this moment, you might be
lying with my dagger in your throat ... or I with yours in mine ... for
that was what you were trying for, you faithless friend!"
He succeeded, by dint of humour and sarcasm, in cheering up the wretched
Wilson and forcing him to swallow a leg of the chicken and a glass of
wine. But, when the candle had gone out and they had to stretch
themselves on the floor to sleep, with the wall for a pillow, the
painful and ridiculous side of the situation became apparent to them.
And their slumbers were sad.
In the morning, Wilson woke aching in every bone and shivering with
cold. A slight sound caught his ear: Holmlock Shears, on his knees, bent
in two, was examining grains of dust through his lens and inspecting
certain hardly perceptible chalk-marks, which formed figures which he
put down in his note-book.
Escorted by Wilson, who seemed to take a particular interest in this
work, he studied each room and found similar chalk-marks in two of the
others. He also observed two circles on some oak panels, an arrow on a
wainscoting and four figures on four steps of the staircase.
After an hour spent in this way, Wilson asked:
"The figures are correct, are they not?"
"I don't know if they're correct," replied Shears, whose good temper had
been restored by these discoveries, "but, at any rate, they mean
something."
"Something very obvious," said Wilson. "They represent the number of
planks in the floor."
"Oh!"
"Yes. As for the two circles, they indicate that the panels sound
hollow, as you can see by trying, and the arrow points to show the
direction of the dinner-lift."
Holmlock Shears looked at him in admiration:
"Why, my dear chap, how do you know all this? Your perspicacity almost
makes me ashamed of myself."
"Oh, it's very simple," said Wilson, bursting with delight. "I made
those marks myself last night, in consequence of your instructions ...
or rather Lupin's instructions, as the letter I received from you came
from him."
I have little doubt that, at that moment, Wilson was in greater danger
than during his struggle with Shears in the shrubbery. Shears felt a
fierce longing to wring his neck. Mastering himself with an effort, he
gave a grin that pretended to be a smile and said:
"Well done, well done, that's an excellent piece of work; most useful.
Have your wonderful powers of analysis and observation been exercised in
any other direction? I may as well make use of the results obtained."
"No; that's all I did."
"What a pity! The start was so promising! Well, as things are, there is
nothing left for us to do but go."
"Go? But how?"
"The way respectable people usually go: through the gate."
"It's locked."
"We must get it opened."
"Whom by?"
"Would you mind calling those two policemen walking down the avenue?"
"But ..."
"But what?"
"It's very humiliating.... What will people say, when they learn that
you, Holmlock Shears, and I, Wilson, have been locked up by Arsene
Lupin?"
"It can't be helped, my dear fellow; they will laugh like anything,"
replied Shears, angrily, with a frowning face. "But we can't go on
living here forever, can we?"
"And you don't propose to try anything?"
"Not I!"
"Still, the man who brought the basket of provisions did not cross the
garden either in coming or going. There must, therefore, be another
outlet. Let us look for it, instead of troubling the police."
"Ably argued. Only you forget that the whole police of Paris have been
hunting for this outlet for the past six months and that I myself, while
you were asleep, examined the house from top to bottom. Ah, my dear
Wilson, Arsene Lupin is a sort of game we are not accustomed to hunt: he
leaves nothing behind him, you see...."
* * * * *
Holmlock Shears and Wilson were let out at eleven o'clock and ... taken
to the nearest police-station, where the commissary, after
cross-questioning them severely, released them with the most
exasperating pretences of courtesy:
"Gentlemen, I am grieved beyond measure at your mishap. You will have a
poor opinion of our French hospitality. Lord, what a night you must have
spent! Upon my word, Lupin might have shown you more consideration!"
They took a cab to the Elysee-Palace. Wilson went to the office and
asked for the key of his room.
The clerk looked through the visitors' book and replied, in great
surprise:
"But you gave up your room this morning, sir!"
"What do you mean? How did I give up my room?"
"You sent us a letter by your friend."
"What friend?"
"Why, the gentleman who brought us your letter.... Here it is, with your
card enclosed."
Wilson took the letter and the enclosure. It was certainly one of his
visiting-cards and the letter was in his writing:
"Good Lord!" he muttered. "Here's another nasty trick." And he added,
anxiously, "What about the luggage?"
"Why, your friend took it with him."
"Oh!.... So you gave it to him?"
"Certainly, on the authority of your card."
"Just so ... just so...."
They both went out and wandered down the Champs-Elysees, slowly and
silently. A fine autumn sun filled the avenue. The air was mild and
light.
At the Rond-Point, Shears lit his pipe and resumed his walk. Wilson
cried:
"I can't understand you, Shears; you take it so calmly! The man laughs
at you, plays with you as a cat plays with a mouse ... and you don't
utter a word!"
Shears stopped and said:
"I'm thinking of your visiting-card, Wilson."
"Well?"
"Well, here is a man, who, by way of preparing for a possible struggle
with us, obtains specimens of your handwriting and mine and has one of
your cards ready in his pocketbook. Have you thought of the amount of
precaution, of perspicacity, of determination, of method, of
organization that all this represents?"
"You mean to say ..."
"I mean to say, Wilson, that, to fight an enemy so formidably armed, so
wonderfully equipped--and to beat him--takes ... a man like myself. And,
even then, Wilson," he added, laughing, "one does not succeed at the
first attempt, as you see!"
* * * * *
At six o'clock, the _Echo de France_ published the following paragraph
in its special edition:
"This morning, M. Thenard, the commissary of police of the 16th
division, released Messrs. Holmlock Shears and Wilson, who had
been confined, by order of Arsene Lupin, in the late Baron
d'Hautrec's house, where they spent an excellent night.
"They were also relieved of their luggage and have laid an
information against Arsene Lupin.
"Arsene Lupin has been satisfied with giving them a little
lesson this time; but he earnestly begs them not to compel him
to adopt more serious measures."
"Pooh!" said Holmlock Shears, crumpling up the paper. "Schoolboy tricks!
That's the only fault I have to find with Lupin ... he's too childish,
too fond of playing to the gallery.... He's a street arab at heart!"
"So you continue to take it calmly, Shears?"
"Quite calmly," replied Shears, in a voice shaking with rage. "What's
the use of being angry? _I am so certain of having the last word!_"