THE SECOND ARREST OF ARSENE LUPIN
By eight o'clock on Wednesday morning, a dozen pantechnicon vans were
blocking the Rue Crevaux from the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne to the
Avenue Bougeaud. M. Felix Davey was leaving the flat which he occupied
on the fourth floor of No. 8. And, by a sheer coincidence--for the two
gentlemen were not acquainted--M. Dubreuil, the expert, who had knocked
into one the fifth-floor flat of No. 8 and the fifth-floor flats of the
two adjoining houses, had selected the same day on which to send off the
collection of furniture and antiques which used to be visited daily by
one or other of his many foreign correspondents.
A peculiarity which attracted notice in the neighbourhood, but which was
not mentioned until later, was that none of the twelve vans bore the
name and address of the firm of removers and that none of the men in
charge of them loitered in the wine-shops round about. They worked to
such good purpose that all was over by eleven o'clock. Nothing remained
but those piles of old papers and rags which are always left behind in
the corners of empty rooms.
M. Felix Davey was a young man of smart appearance, dressed in the
latest fashion, but carrying a heavily-weighted cane which seemed to
indicate unusual muscular strength on the part of its owner. He walked
away quietly and sat down on a bench in the cross alley which intersects
the Avenue du Bois, opposite the Rue Pergolese. Beside him sat a young
woman, clad in the costume of the lower middle-class and reading her
paper, while a child played with its spade in the sand beside her.
Presently, Felix Davey said to the woman, without turning his head:
"Ganimard?"
"Went out at nine o'clock this morning."
"Where to?"
"Police headquarters."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"No telegram last night?"
"No."
"Do they still trust you at the house?"
"Yes. I do odd work for Madame Ganimard and she tells me all her
husband does.... We spent the morning together."
"Good. Continue to come here at eleven every morning, until further
orders."
He rose and walked to the Pavillon Chinois, near the Porte Dauphine,
where he took a frugal meal: two eggs, some vegetables and a little
fruit. Then he returned to the Rue Crevaux and said to the concierge:
"I am going to have a look round upstairs and then I'll give you the
keys."
He finished his inspection with the room which he used as a study. There
he took hold of the end of a jointed gas-bracket which was fixed beside
the chimney, unscrewed the brass nozzle, fitted a little funnel-shaped
instrument to it and blew up the pipe.
A faint whistle sounded in reply. Putting the pipe to his mouth, he
whispered:
"Any one there, Dubreuil?"
"No."
"Can I come up?"
"Yes."
He replaced the bracket, saying, as he did so:
"Where will progress stop? Our age teems with little inventions that
make life really charming and picturesque. And so amusing too ...
especially when a man knows the game of life as I know it!"
He touched one of the marble mouldings of the mantel-piece and made it
swing round on a pivot. The marble slab itself moved and the mirror
above it slid between invisible grooves, revealing a yawning gap which
contained the lower steps of a staircase built in the body of the
chimney itself. It was all very clean, in carefully-polished iron and
white porcelain tiles.
He climbed up to the fifth floor, which had a similar opening over the
mantel-piece, and found M. Dubreuil awaiting him:
"Is everything finished here?"
"Everything."
"All cleared up?"
"Quite."
"The staff?"
"All gone, except the three men keeping watch."
"Let's go up."
They climbed by the same way to the servants' floor and emerged in a
garret where they found three men, one of whom was looking out of the
window.
"Any news?"
"No, governor."
"Is the street quiet?"
"Absolutely."
"I shall leave for good in ten minutes.... You will go too. In the
meantime, if you notice the least suspicious movement in the street, let
me know."
"I've got my finger on the alarm-bell governor."
"Dubreuil, did you remember to tell the removers not to touch the
bell-wires?"
"Yes. They work perfectly."
"That's all right, then."
The two gentlemen returned to Felix Davey's flat. And Davey, after
readjusting the marble moulding, exclaimed, gaily:
"Dubreuil, I should love to see the faces of those who discover all
these wonderful contrivances: alarm-bells, a network of electric wires
and speaking-tubes, invisible passages, sliding floor-boards, secret
staircases!... regular pantomime machinery!"
"What an advertisement for Arsene Lupin!"
"We could very well have done without the advertisement. It seems a pity
to leave so fine an installation. We shall have to begin all over again,
Dubreuil ... and upon a new plan, of course, for it never does to repeat
one's self. Confound that Shears!"
"He's not come back, I suppose?"
"How could he? There's only one boat from Southampton, which leaves at
midnight. From the Havre, there's only one train, which leaves at eight
in the morning and arrives at eleven three. Once he has not taken the
midnight steamer--and he has not, for my orders to the captain were
formal--he can't reach France till this evening, _via_ Newhaven and
Dieppe."
"If he comes back!"
"Shears never throws up the game. He will come back, but it will be too
late. We shall be far away."
"And Mlle. Destange?"
"I am to meet her in an hour."
"At her house?"
"No, she won't go home for a few days, until the storm has blown over
... and I am able to look after her more thoroughly.... But you must
hurry, Dubreuil. It will take a long time to ship all the cases and you
will be wanted on the wharf."
"You're sure we are not being watched?"
"Whom by? I was never afraid of any one but Shears."
Dubreuil went away. Felix Davey took a last walk round the flat, picked
up a torn letter or two and then, seeing a piece of chalk, he took it,
drew a large circle on the dark wall-paper of the dining room, and
wrote, after the style of a commemorative tablet:
__.......__
_.-'' '-..
,-' '-.
,' '.
,' '\
/ ARSENE LUPIN, `
/ `.
/ GENTLEMAN BURGLAR, \
| |
| LIVED HERE |
| |
| FOR 5 YEARS |
| .'
| AT THE COMMENCEMENT |
| .'
\ OF /
\ ,'
` THE TWENTIETH CENTURY /
'. ,'
'-. _,'
'-._ _,-'
'`--......---'
This little joke seemed to cause him a lively satisfaction. He whistled
gaily as he looked at it and cried:
"Now that I have put myself right with the historians of the future
generations, let's be off! Hurry up, Maitre Holmlock Shears! In three
minutes I shall have left my lair, and your defeat will be absolute....
Two minutes more! You're keeping me waiting, maitre!... One minute more!
Aren't you coming? Very well, I proclaim your downfall and my
apotheosis.... With which last words I proceed to make myself scarce.
Farewell, O Kingdom of Arsene Lupin! I shall not look upon you again.
Farewell, ye five-and-fifty rooms of the six flats over which I reigned!
Farewell, austere and humble dwelling!"
A bell cut short his lyrical effusion, a short, shrill, strident bell,
twice interrupted, twice resumed and then ceasing. It was the
alarm-bell.
What could it mean? Some unexpected danger? Ganimard? Surely not!...
He was on the point of making for his study and escaping. But first he
turned to the window. There was no one in the street. Was the enemy
already in the house, then? He listened and seemed to distinguish
confused sounds. Without further hesitation he ran to his study and, as
he crossed the threshold, heard the sound of a latchkey fumbling at the
lock of the hall-door.
"By Jove!" he muttered. "I have only just time. The house may be
surrounded.... No use trying the servants' staircase.... Fortunately,
the chimney...."
He pushed the moulding smartly: it did not move. He exerted greater
force: it did not move.
At the same moment, he received the impression that the outer door was
opening and that steps sounded.
"Curse it all!" he swore. "I'm lost, if this confounded spring...."
His fingers clutched the moulding; he bore upon it with all his weight.
Nothing moved, nothing! By some incredible bad luck, by a really
bewildering piece of malice on the part of fate, the spring, which was
working only a moment before, now refused to work!
He persisted madly, convulsively. The block of marble remained inert,
motionless. Curse it! Was it conceivable that this stupid obstacle
should bar his way? He struck the marble, struck it furious blows with
his fists, hammered it, insulted it....
"Why, M. Lupin, is something not going as you wish?"
Lupin turned round, terror-stricken. Holmlock Shears stood before him.
* * * * *
Holmlock Shears! Lupin gazed at him, blinking his eyes, as though
smarting under a cruel vision. Holmlock Shears in Paris! Holmlock
Shears, whom he had packed off to England the day before, as he might a
compromising parcel, stood there before him, triumphant and free! Ah,
for this impossible miracle to be performed in despite of Arsene Lupin's
will there must have been a revolution of the laws of nature, a victory
of all that is illogical and abnormal! Holmlock Shears standing opposite
him!
And the Englishman, resorting to irony in his turn, said, with that
supercilious politeness with which his adversary had so often lashed
him:
"M. Lupin, believe me, from this minute I shall cease to remember the
night you made me spend in Baron d'Hautrec's house, cease to remember my
friend Wilson's mishaps, cease to remember how I was kidnapped by
motor-car, cease to remember the sea-voyage which I have just taken,
fastened down, by your orders, to an uncomfortable berth. This minute
wipes out all. I forget everything. I am rewarded, amply rewarded."
Lupin did not speak. The Englishman added:
"Don't you think so yourself?"
He appeared to be insisting, as though demanding an assent, a sort of
receipt with regard to the past.
After a moment's reflection, during which the Englishman felt himself
searched and fathomed to the very bottom of his soul, Lupin said:
"I presume, sir, that your present action rests upon serious motives?"
"Extremely serious motives."
"The fact of your escaping from my captain and his crew is only a
secondary incident in our struggle. But the fact of your being here,
before me, alone, do you understand, _alone_ in the presence of Arsene
Lupin, makes me believe that your revenge is as complete as possible."
"It is as complete as possible."
"This house...?"
"Surrounded."
"The two next houses...?"
"Surrounded."
"The flat above this...?"
"The three flats on the fifth floor which were occupied by M. Dubreuil
are invested."
"So that...?"
"So that you are caught, M. Lupin, irredeemably caught."
Lupin now experienced the same feelings that had stirred Shears during
his motor-car drive: the same concentrated rage, the same rebellion; but
also, when all was said and done, the same sense of loyalty which
compelled him to bow before the force of circumstances. Both were
equally strong: both alike were bound to accept defeat as a temporary
evil, to be received with resignation.
"We are quits, sir," he said, bluntly.
* * * * *
The Englishman seemed delighted at this confession. The two men were
silent. Then Lupin, already master of himself, resumed with a smile:
"And I am not sorry. It was becoming wearisome to win every thrust. I
had only to put out my arm to hit you full in the chest. This time, you
score one. Well, hit, maitre!" He laughed whole-heartedly. "At last we
shall have some fun! Lupin is caught in the trap. How will he get
out?... Caught in the trap!... What an adventure!... Ah, maitre, I have
to thank you for a grand emotion. This is what I call life!"
He pressed his clenched fists to his temples as though to restrain the
ungovernable joy that was bubbling up within him; and he also had
gestures like those of a child amusing itself beyond its power of
endurance.
At last, he went up to the Englishman:
"And now, what are you here for?"
"What am I here for?"
"Yes. Ganimard is outside, with his men. Why does he not come in?"
"I asked him not to."
"And he consented?"
"I called in his services only on the express condition that he would be
led by me. Besides, he believes that M. Felix Davey is merely an
accomplice of Lupin's."
"Then I will repeat my question under another form. Why did you come in
alone?"
"I wanted to speak to you first."
"Aha! You want to speak to me!"
The idea seemed to please Lupin greatly. There are circumstances in life
in which we much prefer words to deeds.
"Mr. Shears, I am sorry not to have a chair to offer you. Does this
broken box suit you? Or the window-ledge? I am sure a glass of beer
would be acceptable.... Do you like it light or dark?... But do sit
down, I beg...."
"Never mind that: let us talk."
"I am listening."
"I shall not be long. The object of my stay in France was not to effect
your arrest. I was obliged to pursue you, because no other means offered
of attaining my real object."
"Which was?"
"To recover the blue diamond."
"The blue diamond!"
"Certainly; because the one discovered in Herr Bleichen's tooth-powder
flask was not the real one."
"Just so. The real one was posted by the blonde lady. I had an exact
copy made; and as, at that time, I had designs upon the Comtesse de
Crozon's other jewels and as the Austrian consul was already under
suspicion, the aforesaid blonde lady, lest she should be suspected in
her turn, slipped the imitation diamond into the aforesaid consul's
luggage."
"While you kept the real one."
"Quite right."
"I want that diamond."
"Impossible. I'm sorry."
"I have promised it to the Comtesse de Crozon. I mean to have it."
"How can you have it, seeing that it's in my possession?"
"I mean to have it just because it is in your possession."
"You mean that I shall give it back to you?"
"Yes."
"Voluntarily?"
"I will buy it of you."
Lupin had a fit of merriment:
"Any one can tell what country _you_ come from! You treat this as a
matter of business."
"It is a matter of business."
"And what price do you offer?"
"The liberty of Mlle. Destange."
"Her liberty? But I am not aware that she is under arrest."
"I shall give M. Ganimard the necessary information. Once deprived of
your protection, she will be taken also."
Lupin burst out laughing again:
"My dear sir, you are offering me what you do not possess. Mlle.
Destange is safe and fears nothing. I want something else."
The Englishman hesitated, obviously embarrassed and flushing slightly.
Then he put his hand brusquely on his adversary's shoulder:
"And, if I offered you...?"
"My liberty?"
"No ... but, still, I might leave the room, to arrange with
M. Ganimard...."
"And leave me to think things over?"
"Yes."
"Well, what on earth would be the good of that? This confounded spring
won't work," said Lupin, irritably pushing the moulding of the mantel.
He stifled an exclamation of surprise: this time, freakish chance had
willed that the block of marble should move under his fingers! Safety,
flight became possible. In that case, why submit to Holmlock Shears's
conditions?
He walked to and fro, as though reflecting upon his answer. Then he, in
his turn, put his hand on the Englishman's shoulder:
"After due consideration, Mr. Shears, I prefer to settle my little
affairs alone."
"Still...."
"No, I don't want anybody's help."
"When Ganimard has you, it will be up with you. They won't let you go
again."
"Who knows?"
"Come, this is madness. Every outlet is watched."
"One remains."
"Which one?"
"The one I shall select."
"Words! Your arrest may be looked upon as effected."
"It is not effected."
"So...?"
"So I shall keep the blue diamond."
Shears took out his watch:
"It is ten minutes to three. At three o'clock, I call Ganimard."
"That gives us ten minutes to chat in. Let us make the most of our time,
Mr. Shears, and tell me, to satisfy the curiosity by which I am
devoured: how did you procure my address and my name of Felix Davey?"
Keeping a watchful eye on Lupin, whose good-humour made him feel uneasy,
Shears gladly consented to give this little explanation, which flattered
his vanity, and said:
"I had your address from the blonde lady."
"Clotilde?"
"Yes. You remember ... yesterday morning ... when I meant to carry her
off in the motor-cab, she telephoned to her dressmaker."
"So she did."
"Well, I understood later that the dressmaker was yourself. And, last
night, in the boat, thanks to an effort of memory which is perhaps one
of the things of which I am most proud, I succeeded in recollecting the
last two figures of your telephone number: 73. In this way, as I
possessed the list of the houses which you had 'touched up,' it was easy
for me, on my arrival in Paris at eleven o'clock this morning, to look
through the telephone directory until I discovered the name and address
of M. Felix Davey. The name and address once known, I called in the aid
of M. Ganimard."
"Admirable! First-rate! I make you my bow! But what I can't quite grasp
is that you took the train at the Havre. How did you manage to escape
from the _Hirondelle_?"
"I did not escape."
"But ..."
"You gave the captain orders not to reach Southampton until one o'clock.
Well, they landed me at twelve and I caught the Havre boat."
"The captain played me false? Impossible."
"He did not play you false."
"What then...?"
"It was his watch."
"His watch?"
"Yes, I put his watch on an hour."
"How?"
"The only way in which one can put a watch on, by turning the winder. We
were sitting together chatting and I told him things that interested
him.... By Jove, he noticed nothing!"
"Well done; well done! It's a good trick and I must remember it. But
what about the cabin clock?"
"Oh, the clock was more difficult, for my legs were bound: but the
sailor who was put in charge of me whenever the captain went on deck
kindly consented to give the hands a push."
"The sailor? Nonsense! Do you mean to say, he consented...?"
"Oh, he did not know the importance of what he was doing! I told him I
must, at all costs, catch the first train to London and ... he allowed
himself to be persuaded...."
"In consideration...."
"In consideration of a little present ... which the decent fellow,
however, intends faithfully to send to you."
"What present?"
"A mere nothing."
"Well, but what?"
"The blue diamond."
"The blue diamond!"
"Yes, the imitation one, which you substituted for the countess's
diamond and which she left in my hands...."
Arsene Lupin gave a sudden and tumultuous burst of laughter. He seemed
ready to die: his eyes were wet with tears:
"Oh, what a joke! My faked diamond handed back to the sailor! And the
captain's watch! And the hands of the clock!..."
Never before had Holmlock Shears felt the struggle between Arsene Lupin
and himself grow so intense as now. With his prodigious intuition, he
guessed that, under this excessive gaiety, Lupin was concentrating his
formidable mind and collecting all his faculties.
Lupin had gradually drawn closer. The Englishman stepped back and
slipped his fingers, as though absent-mindedly, into his pocket:
"It's three o'clock, M. Lupin."
"Three o'clock already? What a pity!... We were having such fun!"
"I am waiting for your answer."
"My answer? Goodness me, what a lot you want! So this finishes the game.
With my liberty for the stakes!"
"Or the blue diamond."
"Very well.... It's your lead. What do you do?"
"I mark the king," said Shears, firing a shot with his revolver.
"And here's _my hand_," retorted Arsene, hurling his fist at the
Englishman.
Shears had fired at the ceiling, to summon Ganimard, the need for whose
intervention now seemed urgent. But Arsene's fist caught him full in the
wind and he turned pale and staggered back. Lupin gave one bound toward
the chimney and the marble slab moved.... Too late! The door opened.
"Surrender, Lupin! If not...."
Ganimard, who had doubtless been posted nearer than Lupin thought, stood
there, with his revolver aimed at him. And, behind Ganimard, ten men,
twenty men crowded upon one another's heels, powerful, ruthless fellows,
prepared to beat Lupin down like a dog at the least sign of resistance.
He made a quiet gesture:
"Hands off there! I surrender."
And he crossed his arms over his chest.
* * * * *
A sort of stupor followed. In the room stripped of its furniture and
hangings, Arsene Lupin's words seemed drawn-out like an echo:
"I surrender!"
The words sounded incredible. The others were expecting to see him
vanish suddenly down a trap or a panel of the wall to fall back and once
more to hide him from his assailants. And he surrendered!
Ganimard stepped forward and, greatly excited, with all the gravity that
the act demanded, brought his hand slowly down upon his adversary's
shoulder and enjoyed the infinite satisfaction of saying:
"Lupin, I arrest you."
"Brrrrr!" shivered Lupin. "You make me feel quite overcome, my dear
Ganimard. What a solemn face! One would think you were making a speech
over a friend's grave. Come, drop these funereal airs!"
"I arrest you."
"You seem quite flabbergasted! In the name of the law, of which he is a
faithful limb, Chief-Inspector Ganimard arrests wicked Arsene Lupin. It
is an historic moment and you grasp its full importance.... And this is
the second time a similar fact occurs. Bravo, Ganimard; you will do well
in your career!"
And he held out his wrists for the handcuffs....
They were fastened on almost solemnly. The detectives, in spite of their
usual roughness and the bitterness of their resentment against Lupin,
acted with reserve and discretion, astounded as they were at being
allowed to touch that intangible being.
"My poor Lupin," he sighed, "what would your smart friends say if they
saw you humbled like this!"
He separated his wrists with a growing and continuous effort of every
muscle. The veins on his forehead swelled. The links of the chain dug
into his skin.
"Now then!" he said.
The chain snapped and broke in two.
"Another, mates: this one's no good."
They put two pairs on him. He approved:
"That's better. You can't be too careful."
Then, counting the detectives, he continued:
"How many of you are there, my friends? Twenty-five? Thirty? That's a
lot.... I can't do anything against thirty. Ah, if there had been only
fifteen of you!"
* * * * *
He really had a manner about him, the manner of a great actor playing
his instinctive, spirited part impertinently and frivolously. Shears
watched him as a man watches a fine sight of which he is able to
appreciate every beauty and every shade. And he absolutely received the
strange impression that the struggle was an equal one between those
thirty men on the one hand, backed up by all the formidable machinery of
the law, and that single being on the other, fettered and unarmed. The
two sides were evenly matched.
"Well, maitre," said Lupin, "this is your work. Thanks to you, Lupin is
going to rot on the damp straw of the cells. Confess that your
conscience is not quite easy and that you feel the pangs of remorse."
The Englishman gave an involuntary shrug, as though to say:
"You had the chance...."
"Never! Never!" exclaimed Lupin. "Give you back the blue diamond? Ah,
no, it has cost me too much trouble already! I value it, you see. At the
first visit I have the honour of paying you in London, next month, I
daresay, I will tell you why.... But shall you be in London next month?
Would you rather I met you in Vienna? Or St. Petersburg?"
He started. Suddenly, an electric bell rang just below the ceiling. And,
this time, it was not the alarm-bell, but the bell of the telephone,
which had not been removed and which stood between the two windows.
The telephone! Ah, who was going to fall into the trap laid by an odious
chance? Arsene Lupin made a furious move toward the instrument, as
though he would have smashed it to atoms and, in so doing, stifled the
unknown voice that wished to speak to him. But Ganimard took the
receiver from its hook and bent down:
"Hullo!... Hullo!... 648.73.... Yes, that's right."
With a brisk gesture of authority, Shears pushed him aside, took the two
receivers and put his handkerchief over the mouthpiece to make the
sound of his voice less distinct.
At that moment, he glanced at Lupin. And the look which they exchanged
showed them that the same thought had struck them both and that they
both foresaw to the end the consequences of that possible, probable,
almost certain supposition: it was the blonde lady telephoning. She
thought that she was telephoning to Felix Davey, or, rather, Maxime
Bermond; and she was about to confide in Holmlock Shears!
And the Englishman repeated:
"Hullo!... Hullo!..."
A pause and Shears:
"Yes, it's I; Maxime."
The drama took shape forthwith, with tragic precision. Lupin, the
mocking, indomitable Lupin, no longer even thought of concealing his
anxiety and, with features pale as death, strove to hear, to guess. And
Shears continued, in reply to the mysterious voice:
"Yes, yes, it's all finished and I was just getting ready to come on to
you, as arranged.... Where? Why, where you are.... Isn't that best?"
He hesitated, seeking his words, and then stopped. It was evident that
he was trying to draw out the girl without saying too much himself and
that he had not the least idea where she was. Besides, Ganimard's
presence seemed to hinder him.... Oh, if some miracle could have cut the
thread of that diabolical conversation! Lupin called for it with all his
might, with all his strained nerves!
And Shears went on:
"Hullo!... Hullo!... Can't you hear?... It's very bad at this end too
... and I can hardly make out.... Can you hear me now? Well ... on
second thoughts ... you had better go home.... Oh, no, there's no danger
at all.... Why, he's in England! I've had a telegram from Southampton!"
The irony of the words! Shears uttered them with an inexpressible sense
of satisfaction. And he added.
"So go at once, dear, and I shall be with you soon."
He hung up the receivers.
"M. Ganimard, I propose to borrow three of your men."
"It's for the blonde lady, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"Do you know who she is, where she is?"
"Yes."
"By Jove! A fine capture! She and Lupin ... that completes the day's
work. Folenfant, take two men and go with Mr. Shears."
The Englishman walked away, followed by the three detectives.
The end had come. The blonde lady also was about to fall into Shears's
hands. Thanks to his wonderful persistency, thanks to the aid of
fortunate events, the battle was turning to victory for him and
irreparable disaster for Lupin.
"Mr. Shears!"
The Englishman stopped:
"Yes, M. Lupin?"
Lupin seemed completely crushed by this last blow. His forehead was
wrinkled; he was worn-out and gloomy. Yet he drew himself up, with a
revival of energy; and, in spite of all, exclaimed, in a voice of glad
unconcern:
"You must admit that fate is dead against me. Just now, it prevented me
from escaping by the chimney and delivered me into your hands. This
moment, it has made use of the telephone to make you a present of the
blonde lady. I bow before its decrees."
"Meaning...?"
"Meaning that I am prepared to reopen negotiations."
Shears took the inspector aside and begged permission, but in a tone
that allowed of no refusal, to exchange a few words with Lupin. Then he
walked across to him. The momentous conversation took place. It opened
in short, nervous phrases:
"What do you want?"
"Mlle. Destange's liberty."
"You know the price?"
"Yes."
"And you agree?"
"I agree to all your conditions."
"Ah!" exclaimed the astonished Englishman. "But ... you refused just now
... for yourself...."
"It was a question of myself, Mr. Shears. Now it involves a woman ...
and a woman whom I love. You see, we have very peculiar ideas about
these things in France, and it does not follow that, because a man's
name is Lupin, he will act differently: on the contrary!"
He said this quite simply. Shears gave him an imperceptible nod and
whispered:
"Where is the blue diamond?"
"Take my cane, over there, in the chimney corner. Hold the knob in one
hand and turn the iron ferrule with the other."
Shears took the cane, turned the ferrule and, as he turned it, perceived
that the knob became unscrewed. Inside the knob was a ball of putty.
Inside the putty a diamond.
He examined it. It was the blue diamond.
"Mlle. Destange is free, M. Lupin."
"Free in the future as in the present? She has nothing to fear from
you?"
"Nor from any one else."
"Whatever happens?"
"Whatever happens. I have forgotten her name and where she lives."
"Thank you. And _au revoir_. For we shall meet again, Mr. Shears, shall
we not?"
"I have no doubt we shall."
A more or less heated explanation followed between the Englishman and
Ganimard and was cut short by Shears with a certain roughness:
"I am very sorry, M. Ganimard, that I can't agree with you. But I have
no time to persuade you now. I leave for England in an hour."
"But ... the blonde lady?"
"I know no such person."
"Only a moment ago...."
"You must take it or leave it. I have already caught Lupin for you. Here
is the blue diamond ... which you may have the pleasure of handing to
the countess yourself. I can't see that you have anything to complain
of."
"But the blonde lady?"
"Find her."
He settled his hat on his head and walked away with a brisk step, like a
gentleman who has no time to loiter once his business is done.
* * * * *
"Good-bye, maitre!" cried Lupin. "And a pleasant journey! I shall always
remember the cordial relations between us. My kind regards to Mr.
Wilson!"
He received no reply and chuckled:
"That's what we call taking English leave. Ah, those worthy islanders do
not possess that elegant courtesy which distinguishes us. Just think,
Ganimard, of the exit which a Frenchman would have made in similar
circumstances! Under what exquisite politeness would he not have
concealed his triumph!... But, Lord bless my soul, Ganimard, what are
you doing? Well, I never: a search! But there's nothing left, my poor
friend, not a scrap of paper! My archives have been moved to a place of
safety."
"One can never tell."
Lupin looked on in resignation. Held by two inspectors and surrounded
by all the rest, he patiently watched the various operations. But, after
twenty minutes, he sighed:
"Come along, Ganimard; you'll never be finished, at this rate."
"Are you in a great hurry?"
"Yes, I should think I was! I have an important engagement!"
"At the police-station?"
"No, in town."
"Tut, tut! At what time?"
"At two o'clock."
"It's past three."
"Exactly: I shall be late; and there's nothing I detest so much as being
late."
"Will you give me five minutes?"
"Not a minute longer."
"You're too good.... I'll try...."
"Don't talk so much.... What, that cupboard too? Why, it's empty!"
"There are some letters, for all that."
"Old bills."
"No, a bundle done up in ribbon."
"A pink ribbon, is it? Oh, Ganimard, don't untie it, for heaven's sake!"
"Are they from a woman?"
"Yes."
"A lady?"
"Rather!"
"What's her name?"
"Mme. Ganimard."
"Very witty! Oh, very witty!" cried the inspector, in an affected tone.
At that moment, the men returned from the other rooms and declared that
their search had led to nothing. Lupin began to laugh:
"Of course not! Did you expect to find a list of my friends, or a proof
of my relations with the German Emperor? What you ought to have looked
for, Ganimard, are the little mysteries of this flat. For instance, that
gas-pipe is a speaking tube. The chimney contains a staircase. This wall
here is hollow. And such a tangle of bell-wires! Look here, Ganimard:
just press that button."
Ganimard did as he was asked.
"Did you hear anything?"
"No."
"Nor I. And yet you have instructed the captain of my balloon-park to
get ready the airship which is soon to carry us up to the sky."
"Come," said Ganimard, who had finished his inspection. "Enough of this
nonsense. Let us start."
He took a few steps, followed by his men.
Lupin did not budge a foot's breadth.
His custodians pushed him. In vain.
"Well," said Ganimard, "do you refuse to come?"
"Not at all."
"Then ..."
"It all depends."
"Depends on what?"
"On where you're taking me."
"To the police-station, of course."
"Then I shan't come. I have nothing to do at the station."
"You're mad!"
"Didn't I tell you I had an important engagement?"
"Lupin!"
"Come, Ganimard, the blonde lady must be getting quite anxious about me;
and do you think I could have the rudeness to keep her waiting? It would
not be the conduct of a gentleman!"
"Listen to me, Lupin," said the inspector, who was beginning to lose his
temper under all this chaff. "So far, I have treated you with excessive
consideration. But there are limits. Follow me."
"Impossible. I have an engagement and that engagement I mean to keep."
"For the last time?"
"Im-possible!"
Ganimard made a sign. Two men seized Lupin under the arms and lifted him
from the floor. But they dropped him at once with howls of pain: with
his two hands, Arsene Lupin had dug two long needles into their flesh.
Maddened with rage, the others rushed upon him, wreaking their hatred at
last, burning to avenge their comrades and themselves for the numberless
affronts put upon them, and they rained a shower of blows upon his body.
One blow, more violent than the rest, struck him on the temple. He fell
to the floor.
"If you hurt him," growled Ganimard, angrily, "you'll have me to deal
with."
He bent over Lupin, prepared to assist him. But, finding that he was
breathing freely, he told the men to take Lupin by the head and feet,
while he himself supported his hips.
"Slowly, now, gently!... Don't jolt him!... Why, you brutes, you might
have killed him. Well, Lupin, how do you feel?"
Lupin opened his eyes and stammered:
"Not up to much, Ganimard.... You shouldn't have let them knock me
about."
"Dash it, it's your own fault ... with your obstinacy!" replied
Ganimard, in real distress. "But you're not hurt?"
They reached the landing. Lupin moaned:
"Ganimard ... the lift ... they'll break my bones."
"Good idea, capital idea!" agreed the inspector. "Besides, the stairs
are so narrow ... it would be impossible...."
He got the lift up. They laid Lupin on the seat with every imaginable
precaution. Ganimard sat down beside him and said to his men:
"Go down the stairs at once. Wait for me by the porter's lodge. Do you
understand?"
He shut the door. But it was hardly closed when shouts arose. The lift
had shot up, like a balloon with its rope cut. A sardonic laugh rang
out.
"Damnation!" roared Ganimard, feeling frantically in the dark for the
lever. And failing to find it, he shouted, "The fifth floor! Watch the
door on the fifth floor!"
The detectives rushed upstairs, four steps at a time. But a strange
thing happened: the lift seemed to shoot right through the ceiling of
the top floor, disappeared before the detectives' eyes and suddenly
emerged on the upper story, where the servants' bedrooms were, and
stopped.
Three men were in waiting and opened the door. Two of them overpowered
Ganimard, who, hampered in his movements and completely bewildered,
hardly thought of defending himself. The third helped Lupin out.
"I told you, Ganimard!... Carried off by balloon ... and thanks to
you!... Next time, you must show less compassion. And, above all,
remember that Arsene Lupin does not allow himself to be bashed and
mauled about without good reasons. Good-bye...."
The lift-door was already closed and the lift, with Ganimard inside,
sent back on its journey toward the ground floor. And all this was done
so expeditiously that the old detective caught up his subordinates at
the door of the porter's lodge.
Without a word, they hurried across the courtyard and up the servants'
staircase, the only means of communication with the floor by which the
escape had been effected.
A long passage, with many windings, lined with small, numbered rooms,
led to a door, which had been simply left ajar. Beyond this door and,
consequently, in another house, was another passage, also with a number
of turns and lined with similar rooms. Right at the end was a servants'
staircase. Ganimard went down it, crossed a yard, a hall and rushed into
a street: the Rue Picot. Then he understood: the two houses were built
back to back and their fronts faced two streets, running not at right
angles, but parallel, with a distance of over sixty yards between them.
He entered the porter's lodge and showed his card:
"Have four men just gone out?"
"Yes, the two servants of the fourth and fifth floors, with two
friends."
"Who lives on the fourth and fifth floors?"
"Two gentlemen of the name of Fauvel and their cousins, the Provosts....
They moved this morning. Only the two servants remained.... They have
just gone."
"Ah," thought Ganimard, sinking on to a sofa in the lodge, "what a fine
stroke we have missed! The whole gang occupied this rabbit-warren!..."
* * * * *
Forty minutes later, two gentlemen drove up in a cab to the Gare du Nord
and hurried toward the Calais express, followed by a porter carrying
their bags.
One of them had his arm in a sling and his face was pale and drawn. The
other seemed in great spirits:
"Come along, Wilson; it won't do to miss the train!... Oh, Wilson, I
shall never forget these ten days!"
"No more shall I."
"What a fine series of battles!"
"Magnificent!"
"A regrettable incident, here and there, but of very slight importance."
"Very slight, as you say."
"And, lastly, victory all along the line. Lupin arrested! The blue
diamond recovered!"
"My arm broken!"
"With a success of this kind, what does a broken arm matter?"
"Especially mine."
"Especially yours. Remember, Wilson, it was at the very moment when you
were at the chemist's, suffering like a hero, that I discovered the clue
that guided me through the darkness."
"What a piece of luck!"
The doors were being locked.
"Take your seats, please. Hurry up, gentlemen!"
The porter climbed into an empty compartment and placed the bags in the
rack, while Shears hoisted the unfortunate Wilson in:
"What are you doing, Wilson? Hurry up, old chap!... Pull yourself
together, do!"
"It's not for want of pulling myself together."
"What then?"
"I can only use one hand."
"Well?" cried Shears, gaily. "What a fuss you make! One would think you
were the only man in your plight. What about the fellows who have really
lost an arm? Well, are you settled? Thank goodness for that!"
He gave the porter a half-franc piece.
"Here, my man. That's for you."
"Thank you, Mr. Shears."
The Englishman raised his eyes: Arsene Lupin!
"You!... You!" he blurted in his bewilderment.
And Wilson stammered, waving his one hand with the gestures of a man
proving a fact:
"You!... You!... But you're arrested! Shears told me so. When he left
you, Ganimard and his thirty detectives had you surrounded!"
Lupin crossed his arms with an air of indignation:
"So you thought I would let you go without coming to see you off? After
the excellent friendly relations which we never ceased to keep up? Why,
it would have been unspeakably rude. What do you take me for?"
The engine whistled.
"However, I forgive you.... Have you all you want? Tobacco, matches?...
That's right.... And the evening papers? You will find the details of my
arrest in them: your last exploit, maitre! And now, _au revoir_; and
delighted to have made your acquaintance ... delighted, I mean it!...
And, if ever I can do anything for you, I shall be only too pleased."
He jumped down to the platform and closed the door.
"Good-bye!" he cried again, waving his handkerchief. "Good-bye.... I'll
write to you!... Mind you write too; let me know how the broken arm is,
Mr. Wilson! I shall expect to hear from both of you.... Just a picture
postcard, now and again.... 'Lupin, Paris' will always find me.... It's
quite enough.... Never mind about stamping the letters.... Good-bye!...
See you soon, I hope!"
SECOND EPISODE
THE JEWISH LAMP
CHAPTER I
Holmlock Shears and Wilson were seated on either side of the fireplace
in Shears's sitting-room. The great detective's pipe had gone out. He
knocked the ashes into the grate, re-filled his briar, lit it, gathered
the skirts of his dressing-gown around his knees, puffed away and
devoted all his attention to sending rings of smoke curling gracefully
up to the ceiling.
Wilson watched him. He watched him as a dog, rolled up on the
hearth-rug, watches its master, with wide-open eyes and unblinking lids,
eyes which have no other hope than to reflect the expected movement on
the master's part. Would Shears break silence? Would he reveal the
secret of his present dreams and admit Wilson to the realm of meditation
into which he felt that he was not allowed to enter uninvited?
Shears continued silent.
Wilson ventured upon a remark:
"Things are very quiet. There's not a single case for us to nibble at."
Shears was more and more fiercely silent; but the rings of
tobacco-smoke became more and more successful and any one but Wilson
would have observed that Shears obtained from this the profound content
which we derive from the minor achievements of our vanity, at times when
our brain is completely void of thought.
Disheartened, Wilson rose and walked to the window. The melancholy
street lay stretched between the gloomy fronts of the houses, under a
dark sky whence fell an angry and pouring rain. A cab drove past;
another cab. Wilson jotted down their numbers in his note-book. One can
never tell!
The postman came down the street, gave a treble knock at the door; and,
presently, the servant entered with two registered letters.
"You look remarkably pleased," said Wilson, when Shears had unsealed and
glanced through the first.
"This letter contains a very attractive proposal. You were worrying
about a case: here is one. Read it."
Wilson took the letter and read:
"18, _Rue Murillo_,
"PARIS.
"Sir:
"I am writing to ask for the benefit of your assistance and
experience. I have been the victim of a serious theft and all
the investigations attempted up to the present would seem to
lead to nothing.
"I am sending you by this post a number of newspapers which will
give you all the details of the case; and, if you are inclined
to take it up, I shall be pleased if you will accept the
hospitality of my house and if you will fill in the enclosed
signed check for any amount which you like to name for your
expenses.
"Pray, telegraph to inform me if I may expect you and believe me
to be, sir,
"Yours very truly,
"BARON VICTOR D'IMBLEVALLE."
"Well," said Shears, "this comes just at the right time: why shouldn't I
take a little run to Paris? I haven't been there since my famous duel
with Arsene Lupin and I shan't be sorry to re-visit it under rather more
peaceful conditions."
He tore the cheque into four pieces and, while Wilson, whose arm had not
yet recovered from the injury received in the course of the aforesaid
encounter, was inveighing bitterly against Paris and all its
inhabitants, he opened the second envelope.
A movement of irritation at once escaped him; he knitted his brow as he
read the letter and, when he had finished, he crumpled it into a ball
and threw it angrily on the floor.
"What's the matter?" exclaimed Wilson, in amazement.
He picked up the ball, unfolded it and read, with ever-increasing
stupefaction:
"MY DEAR MAITRE:
"You know my admiration for you and the interest which I take in
your reputation. Well, accept my advice and have nothing to do
with the case in which you are asked to assist. Your
interference would do a great deal of harm, all your efforts
would only bring about a pitiable result and you would be
obliged publicly to acknowledge your defeat.
"I am exceedingly anxious to spare you this humiliation and I
beg you, in the name of our mutual friendship, to remain very
quietly by your fireside.
"Give my kind remembrances to Dr. Wilson and accept for yourself
the respectful compliments of
"Yours most sincerely,
"ARSENE LUPIN."
"Arsene Lupin!" repeated Wilson, in bewilderment.
Shears banged the table with his fist:
"Oh, I'm getting sick of the brute! He laughs at me as if I were a
schoolboy! I am publicly to acknowledge my defeat, am I? Didn't I compel
him to give up the blue diamond?"
"He's afraid of you," suggested Wilson.
"You're talking nonsense! Arsene Lupin is never afraid; and the proof is
that he challenges me."
"But how does he come to know of Baron d'Imblevalle's letter?"
"How can I tell? You're asking silly questions, my dear fellow!"
"I thought ... I imagined...."
"What? That I am a sorcerer?"
"No, but I have seen you perform such marvels!"
"No one is able to perform marvels.... I no more than another. I make
reflections, deductions, conclusions, but I don't make guesses. Only
fools make guesses."
Wilson adopted the modest attitude of a beaten dog and did his best,
lest he should be a fool, not to guess why Shears was striding angrily
up and down the room. But, when Shears rang for the servant and asked
for his travelling-bag, Wilson thought himself entitled, since this was
a material fact, to reflect, deduce and conclude that his chief was
going on a journey.
The same mental operation enabled him to declare, in the tone of a man
who has no fear of the possibility of a mistake:
"Holmlock, you are going to Paris."
"Possibly."
"And you are going to Paris even more in reply to Lupin's challenge than
to oblige Baron d'Imblevalle."
"Possibly."
"Holmlock, I will go with you."
"Aha, old friend!" cried Shears, interrupting his walk. "Aren't you
afraid that your left arm may share the fate of the right?"
"What can happen to me? You will be there."
"Well said! You're a fine fellow! And we will show this gentleman that
he may have made a mistake in defying us so boldly. Quick, Wilson, and
meet me at the first train."
"Won't you wait for the newspapers the baron mentions?"
"What's the good?"
"Shall I send a telegram?"
"No. Arsene Lupin would know I was coming and I don't wish him to. This
time, Wilson, we must play a cautious game."
* * * * *
That afternoon, the two friends stepped on board the boat at Dover. They
had a capital crossing. In the express from Calais to Paris, Shears
indulged in three hours of the soundest sleep, while Wilson kept a good
watch at the door of the compartment and meditated with a wandering eye.
Shears woke up feeling happy and well. The prospect of a new duel with
Arsene Lupin delighted him; and he rubbed his hands with the contented
air of a man preparing to taste untold joys.
"At last," exclaimed Wilson, "we shall feel that we're alive!"
And he rubbed his hands with the same contented air.
At the station, Shears took the rugs, and, followed by Wilson carrying
the bags--each his burden!--handed the tickets to the collector and
walked gaily into the street.
"A fine day, Wilson.... Sunshine!... Paris is dressed in her best to
receive us."
"What a crowd!"
"So much the better, Wilson: we stand less chance of being noticed. No
one will recognize us in the midst of such a multitude."
"Mr. Shears, I believe?"
He stopped, somewhat taken aback. Who on earth could be addressing him
by name?
A woman was walking beside him, or rather a girl whose exceedingly
simple dress accentuated her well-bred appearance. Her pretty face wore
a sad and anxious expression. She repeated:
"You must be Mr. Shears, surely?"
He was silent, as much from confusion as from the habit of prudence, and
she asked for the third time:
"Surely I am speaking to Mr. Shears?"
"What do you want with me?" he asked, crossly, thinking this a
questionable meeting.
She placed herself in front of him:
"Listen to me, Mr. Shears: it is a very serious matter. I know that you
are going to the Rue Murillo."
"What's that?"
"I know.... I know.... Rue Murillo.... No. 18. Well, you must not ...
no, you must not go.... I assure you, you will regret it. Because I tell
you this, you need not think that I am interested in any way. I have a
reason; I know what I am saying."
He tried to push her aside. She insisted:
"I entreat you; do not be obstinate.... Oh, if I only knew how to
convince you! Look into me, look into the depths of my eyes ... they are
sincere ... they speak the truth...."
Desperately, she raised her eyes, a pair of beautiful, grave and limpid
eyes that seemed to reflect her very soul. Wilson nodded his head:
"The young lady seems quite sincere," he said.
"Indeed I am," she said beseechingly, "and you must trust me...."
"I do trust you, mademoiselle," replied Wilson.
"Oh, how happy you make me! And your friend trusts me too, does he not?
I feel it.... I am sure of it! How glad I am! All will be well!... Oh,
what a good idea I had! Listen, Mr. Shears: there's a train for Calais
in twenty minutes.... Now, you must take it.... Quick, come with me:
it's this way and you have not much time."
She tried to drag Shears with her. He seized her by the arm and, in a
voice which he strove to make as gentle as possible, said: "Forgive me,
mademoiselle, if I am not able to accede to your wish; but I never turn
aside from a task which I have undertaken."
"I entreat you.... I entreat you.... Oh, if you only knew!"
He passed on and walked briskly away.
Wilson lingered behind and said to the girl:
"Be of good hope.... He will see the thing through to the end.... He has
never yet been known to fail...."
And he ran after Shears to catch him up.
+---------------+
|HOLMLOCK SHEARS|
| |
| VERSUS |
| |
| ARSENE LUPIN |
+---------------+
These words, standing out in great black letters, struck their eyes at
the first steps they took. They walked up to them: a procession of
sandwich-men was moving along in single file. In their hands they
carried heavy ferruled canes, with which they tapped the pavement in
unison as they went; and their boards bore the above legend in front
and a further huge poster at the back which read:
+------------------------+
|THE SHEARS-LUPIN CONTEST|
| |
| ARRIVAL OF |
| |
| THE ENGLISH CHAMPION |
| |
| THE GREAT DETECTIVE |
| |
| GRAPPLES WITH |
| |
| THE RUE MURILLO MYSTERY|
| |
| FULL DETAILS |
| |
| ECHO DE FRANCE |
+------------------------+
Wilson tossed his head:
"I say, Holmlock, I thought we were travelling incognito! I shouldn't be
astonished to find the Republican Guard waiting for us in the Rue
Murillo, with an official reception and champagne!"
"When you try to be witty, Wilson," snarled Shears, "you're witty enough
for two!"
He strode up to one of the men with apparent intention of taking him in
his powerful hands and tearing him and his advertisement to shreds.
Meanwhile, a crowd gathered round the posters, laughing and joking.
Suppressing a furious fit of passion, Shears said to the man:
"When were you hired?"
"This morning."
"When did you start on your round?"
"An hour ago."
"But the posters were ready?"
"Lord, yes! They were there when we came to the office this morning."
So Arsene Lupin had foreseen that Shears would accept the battle! Nay,
more, the letter written by Lupin proved that he himself wished for the
battle and that it formed part of his intentions to measure swords once
more with his rival. Why? What possible motive could urge him to
re-commence the contest?
Holmlock Shears showed a momentary hesitation. Lupin must really feel
very sure of victory to display such insolence; and was it not falling
into a trap to hasten like that in answer to the first call? Then,
summoning up all his energy:
"Come along, Wilson! Driver, 18, Rue Murillo!" he shouted.
And, with swollen veins and fists clenched as though for a boxing-match,
he leapt into a cab.
* * * * *
The Rue Murillo is lined with luxurious private residences, the backs of
which look out upon the Parc Monceau. No. 18 is one of the handsomest
of these houses; and Baron d'Imblevalle, who occupies it with his wife
and children, has furnished it in the most sumptuous style, as befits an
artist and millionaire. There is a courtyard in front of the house,
skirted on either side by the servants' offices. At the back, a garden
mingles the branches of its trees with the trees of the park.
The two Englishmen rang the bell, crossed the courtyard and were
admitted by a footman, who showed them into a small drawing-room at the
other side of the house.
They sat down and took a rapid survey of the many valuable objects with
which the room was filled.
"Very pretty things," whispered Wilson. "Taste and fancy.... One can
safely draw the deduction that people who have had the leisure to hunt
out these articles are persons of a certain age ... fifty, perhaps...."
He did not have time to finish. The door opened and M. d'Imblevalle
entered, followed by his wife.
Contrary to Wilson's deductions, they were both young, fashionably
dressed and very lively in speech and manner. Both were profuse in
thanks:
"It is really too good of you! To put yourself out like this! We are
almost glad of this trouble since it procures us the pleasure...."
"How charming those French people are!" thought Wilson, who never
shirked the opportunity of making an original observation.
"But time is money," cried the baron. "And yours especially, Mr. Shears.
Let us come to the point! What do you think of the case? Do you hope to
bring it to a satisfactory result?"
"To bring the case to a satisfactory result, I must first know what the
case is."
"Don't you know?"
"No; and I will ask you to explain the matter fully, omitting nothing.
What is it a case of?"
"It is a case of theft."
"On what day did it take place?"
"On Saturday," replied the baron. "On Saturday night or Sunday morning."
"Six days ago, therefore. Now, pray, go on."
"I must first tell you that my wife and I, though we lead the life
expected of people in our position, go out very little. The education of
our children, a few receptions, the beautifying of our home: these make
up our existence; and all or nearly all our evenings are spent here, in
this room, which is my wife's boudoir and in which we have collected a
few pretty things. Well, on Saturday last, at about eleven o'clock, I
switched off the electric light and my wife and I retired, as usual, to
our bedroom."
"Where is that?"
"The next room: that door over there. On the following morning, that is
to say, Sunday, I rose early. As Suzanne--my wife--was still asleep, I
came into this room as gently as possible, so as not to awake her.
Imagine my surprise at finding the window open, after we had left it
closed the evening before!"
"A servant...?"
"Nobody enters this room in the morning before we ring. Besides, I
always take the precaution of bolting that other door, which leads to
the hall. Therefore the window must have been opened from the outside. I
had a proof of it, besides: the second pane of the right-hand casement,
the one next to the latch, had been cut out."
"And the window?"
"The window, as you perceive, opens on a little balcony surrounded by a
stone balustrade. We are on the first floor here and you can see the
garden at the back of the house and the railings that separate it from
the Parc Monceau. It is certain, therefore, that the man came from the
Parc Monceau, climbed the railings by means of a ladder and got up to
the balcony."
"It is certain, you say?"
"On either side of the railings, in the soft earth of the borders, we
found holes left by the two uprights of the ladder; and there were two
similar holes below the balcony. Lastly, the balustrade shows two slight
scratches, evidently caused by the contact of the ladder."
"Isn't the Parc Monceau closed at night?"
"Closed? No. But, in any case, there is a house building at No. 14. It
would have been easy to effect an entrance that way."
Holmlock Shears reflected for a few moments and resumed:
"Let us come to the theft. You say it was committed in the room where we
now are?"
"Yes. Just here, between this twelfth-century Virgin and that
chased-silver tabernacle, there was a little Jewish lamp. It has
disappeared."
"And is that all?"
"That is all."
"Oh!... And what do you call a Jewish lamp?"
"It is one of those lamps which they used to employ in the old days,
consisting of a stem and of a receiver to contain the oil. This receiver
had two or more burners, which held the wicks."
"When all is said, objects of no great value."
"Just so. But the one in question formed a hiding-place in which we had
made it a practice to keep a magnificent antique jewel, a chimera in
gold, set with rubies and emeralds and worth a great deal of money."
"What was your reason for this practice?"
"Upon my word, Mr. Shears, I should find it difficult to tell you!
Perhaps we just thought it amusing to have a hiding-place of this kind."
"Did nobody know of it?"
"Nobody."
"Except, of course, the thief," objected Shears. "But for that, he would
not have taken the trouble to steal the Jewish lamp."
"Obviously. But how could he know of it, seeing that it was by an
accident that we discovered the secret mechanism of the lamp?"
"The same accident may have revealed it to somebody else: a servant ...
a visitor to the house.... But let us continue: have you informed the
police?"
"Certainly. The examining-magistrate has made his inquiry. The
journalistic detectives attached to all the big newspapers have made
theirs. But, as I wrote to you, it does not seem as though the problem
had the least chance of ever being solved."
Shears rose, went to the window, inspected the casement, the balcony,
the balustrade, employed his lens to study the two scratches on the
stone and asked M. d'Imblevalle to take him down to the garden.
When they were outside, Shears simply sat down in a wicker chair and
contemplated the roof of the house with a dreamy eye. Then he suddenly
walked toward two little wooden cases with which, in order to preserve
the exact marks, they had covered the holes which the uprights of the
ladder had left in the ground, below the balcony. He removed the cases,
went down on his knees and, with rounded back and his nose six inches
from the ground, searched and took his measurements. He went through the
same performance along the railing, but more quickly.
That was all.
* * * * *
They both returned to the boudoir, where Madame d'Imblevalle was waiting
for them.
Shears was silent for a few minutes longer and then spoke these words:
"Ever since you began your story, monsieur le baron, I was struck by the
really too simple side of the offence. To apply a ladder, remove a pane
of glass, pick out an object and go away: no, things don't happen so
easily as that. It is all too clear, too plain."
"You mean to say...?"
"I mean to say that the theft of the Jewish lamp was committed under the
direction of Arsene Lupin."
"Arsene Lupin!" exclaimed the baron.
"But it was committed without Arsene Lupin's presence and without
anybody's entering the house.... Perhaps a servant slipped down to the
balcony from his garret, along a rain-spout which I saw from the
garden."
"But what evidence have you?"
"Arsene Lupin would not have left the boudoir empty-handed."
"Empty-handed! And what about the lamp?"
"Taking the lamp would not have prevented him from taking this
snuff-box, which, I see, is studded with diamonds, or this necklace of
old opals. It would require but two movements more. His only reason for
not making those movements was that he was not here to make them."
"Still, the marks of the ladder?"
"A farce! Mere stage-play to divert suspicions!"
"The scratches on the balustrade?"
"A sham! They were made with sandpaper. Look, here are a few bits of
paper which I picked up."
"The marks left by the uprights of the ladder?"
"Humbug! Examine the two rectangular holes below the balcony and the two
holes near the railings. The shape is similar, but, whereas they are
parallel here, they are not so over there. Measure the space that
separates each hole from its neighbour: it differs in the two cases.
Below the balcony, the distance is nine inches. Beside the railings, it
is eleven inches."
"What do you conclude from that?"
"I conclude, since their outline is identical, that the four holes were
made with one stump of wood, cut to the right shape."
"The best argument would be the stump of wood itself."
"Here it is," said Shears. "I picked it up in the garden, behind a
laurel-tub."
* * * * *
The baron gave in. It was only forty minutes since the Englishman had
entered by that door; and not a vestige remained of all that had been
believed so far on the evidence of the apparent facts themselves. The
reality, a different reality, came to light, founded upon something
much more solid: the reasoning faculties of a Holmlock Shears.
"It is a very serious accusation to bring against our people, Mr.
Shears," said the baroness. "They are old family servants and not one of
them is capable of deceiving us."
"If one of them did not deceive you, how do you explain that this letter
was able to reach me on the same day and by the same post as the one you
sent me?"
And he handed her the letter which Arsene Lupin had written to him.
Madame d'Imblevalle was dumbfounded:
"Arsene Lupin!... How did he know?"
"Did you tell no one of your letter?"
"No one," said the baron. "The idea occurred to us the other evening, at
dinner."
"Before the servants?"
"There were only our two children. And even then ... no, Sophie and
Henrietta were not at table, were they Suzanne?"
Madame d'Imblevalle reflected and declared:
"No, they had gone up to mademoiselle."
"Mademoiselle?" asked Shears.
"The governess, Alice Demun."
"Doesn't she have her meals with you?"
"No, she has them by herself, in her room."
Wilson had an idea:
"The letter written to my friend Holmlock Shears was posted?"
"Naturally."
"Who posted it?"
"Dominique, who has been with me as my own man for twenty years,"
replied the baron. "Any search in that direction would be waste of
time."
"Time employed in searching is never wasted," stated Wilson,
sententiously.
This closed the first inquiries and Shears asked leave to withdraw.
An hour later, at dinner, he saw Sophie and Henrietta, the
d'Imblevalles' children, two pretty little girls of eight and six
respectively. The conversation languished. Shears replied to the
pleasant remarks of the baron and his wife in so surly a tone that they
thought it better to keep silence. Coffee was served. Shears swallowed
the contents of his cup and rose from his chair.
At that moment, a servant entered with a telephone message for him.
Shears opened it and read:
"Accept my enthusiastic admiration. Results obtained by you in
so short a time make my head reel. I feel quite giddy.
"ARSENE LUPIN."
He could not suppress a gesture of annoyance and, showing the telegram
to the baron:
"Do you begin to believe," he said, "that your walls have eyes and
ears?"
"I can't understand it," murmured M. d'Imblevalle, astounded.
"Nor I. But what I do understand is that not a movement takes place here
unperceived by him. Not a word is spoken but he hears it."
* * * * *
That evening, Wilson went to bed with the easy conscience of a man who
has done his duty and who has no other business before him than to go to
sleep. So he went to sleep very quickly and was visited by beautiful
dreams, in which he was hunting down Lupin all by himself and just on
the point of arresting him with his own hand; and the feeling of the
pursuit was so lifelike that he woke up.
Some one was touching his bed. He seized his revolver:
"Another movement, Lupin, and I shoot!"
"Steady, old chap, steady on!"
"Hullo, is that you, Shears? Do you want me?"
"I want your eyes. Get up...."
He led him to the window:
"Look over there ... beyond the railings...."
"In the park?"
"Yes. Do you see anything?"
"No, nothing."
"Try again; I am sure you see something."
"Oh, so I do: a shadow ... no, two!"
"I thought so: against the railings.... See, they're moving.... Let's
lose no time."
Groping and holding on to the banister, they made their way down the
stairs and came to a room that opened on to the garden steps. Through
the glass doors, they could see the two figures still in the same place.
"It's curious," said Shears. "I seem to hear noises in the house."
"In the house? Impossible! Everbody's asleep."
"Listen, though...."
At that moment, a faint whistle sounded from the railings and they
perceived an undecided light that seemed to come from the house.
"The d'Imblevalles must have switched on their light," muttered Shears.
"It's their room above us."
"Then it's they we heard, no doubt," said Wilson. "Perhaps they are
watching the railings."
A second whistle, still fainter than the first.
"I can't understand, I can't understand," said Shears, in a tone of
vexation.
"No more can I," confessed Wilson.
Shears turned the key of the door, unbolted it and softly pushed it
open.
A third whistle, this time a little deeper and in a different note. And,
above their heads, the noise grew louder, more hurried.
"It sounds rather as if it were on the balcony of the boudoir,"
whispered Shears.
He put his head between the glass doors, but at once drew back with a
stifled oath. Wilson looked out in his turn. Close to them, a ladder
rose against the wall, leaning against the balustrade of the balcony.
"By Jove!" said Shears. "There's some one in the boudoir. That's what we
heard. Quick, let's take away the ladder!"
But, at that moment, a form slid from the top to the bottom, the ladder
was removed and the man who carried it ran swiftly toward the railings,
to the place where his accomplices were waiting. Shears and Wilson had
darted out. They came up with the man as he was placing the ladder
against the railings. Two shots rang out from the other side.
"Wounded?" cried Shears.
"No," replied Wilson.
He caught the man around the body and tried to throw him. But the man
turned, seized him with one hand and, with the other, plunged a knife
full into his chest. Wilson gave a sigh, staggered and fell.