Arsene Lupin vs Sherlock Holmes
Arsène Lupin
vs
Sherlock Holmes
Maurice Leblanc
Translated by David Carter
Illustrations by Thomas Müller
ALMA CLASSICS
Alma Classics
an imprint of
alma books ltd
3 Castle Yard
Richmond
Surrey TW10 6TF
United Kingdom
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Arsène Lupin vs Sherlock Holmes first published in French in 1908
This translation first published by Alma Classics Ltd in 2015
Introduction and Translation © David Carter, 2015
Extra Material © Alma Classics Ltd, 2015
Illustrations © Thomas Müller, 2015
Cover design: Jem Butcher Design
Printed in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon CR0 4YY
isbn: 978-1-84749-561-7
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not be resold, lent, hired out or otherwise circulated without the express prior consent of the publisher.
Translator’s Introduction
The very title of Maurice Leblanc’s book arouses the reader’s curiosity and expectations. Any established fan of Arsène Lupin will be immediately attracted of course, but even someone coming for the first time upon tales about this suave, French gentleman thief cannot fail to be intrigued by the coupling of his name with that of the world-renowned fictional English private detective. For the Englishman’s name is so thinly disguised that the real identity of Lupin’s opponent is unmistakable. In the French original he appears as “Herlock Sholmès”, which the first English translator reinterpreted imaginatively as “Holmlock Shears”. Why bother with such a transparent ruse? The answer is to be found in the historical context of the original publication of the stories.
The author, Maurice Leblanc (1864–1941), might have been condemned to literary obscurity if it had not been for the runaway success of his Arsène Lupin stories. He was born in Rouen, Normandy, and was educated in a local lycée. He studied in various countries, went to law school but dropped out, and finally settled down in Paris to become a writer of short fiction and novels. For a long time his works were admired but did not meet with much commercial success. Then, in 1905, the editor of a new periodical approached him with a request to write a story in the manner of the Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The new magazine itself, Je Sais Tout, was closely modelled on the English Strand magazine, in which the original Sherlock Holmes stories were published. The Holmes stories were already popular in France, so that there was a ready market. It is clear therefore that there is a close relationship between the Lupin adventures and those of Holmes, although the majority of those about Lupin do not also feature Holmes as a character. Altogether Leblanc wrote twenty-one works, some of them novels and others collections of short stories, which feature the gentleman thief.
The first collection of short stories about Arsène Lupin to be published together in book form was Arsène Lupin, Gentleman Burglar, in 1907. The stories had originally appeared separately in Je Sais Tout. It is in one of these stories that Sherlock Holmes makes his first appearance alongside Arsène Lupin. When he heard of it, Conan Doyle objected to the use of his fictional character and the name which he had invented. Thus it came about that in the book edition the name was changed to “Herlock Sholmès”. Under this name the character reappeared in two more stories published in the second volume of stories, Arsène Lupin contre Herlock Sholmès, 1908, which is the basis of the present volume. The first story, ‘The Blonde Woman’, appeared originally in the magazine between November 1906 and April 1907, and the second story, ‘The Jewish Lamp’, appeared there in September and October , 1907. The first English translations were available in 1910.
Thus Leblanc clearly exploited the popularity of the Sherlock Holmes stories while staying within the law and only parodying the creations of the English writer. He was also careful to modify names in other allusions in his stories, but not so much that any intelligent reader could not easily identify them. Thus Watson becomes Wilson, “221b Baker Street” becomes “219 Parker Street” and, rather oddly perhaps, the car brand Peugeot becomes “Peugeon”.
Fans of Conan Doyle’s stories will soon realize that his two famous characters are affectionately parodied in Leblanc’s treatment of them. The following exchange is typical of them as represented in Leblanc’s stories:
“Wilson, give me your opinion: Why was Lupin in that restaurant?”
Wilson did not hesitate.
“To eat.”
“Wilson, the more we work together, the more I perceive how you continue to progress. My word, you are becoming amazing.”
Sholmes appears so obsessed with his own genius that he is completely insensitive to his friend’s injuries and subsequent sufferings. And Wilson is lost in wide-eyed admiration of Sholmes to the point of unquestioning obedience to his instructions.
Leblanc was not the only writer tempted to keep Sherlock Holmes alive by incorporating him in his own fiction. In fact, it became a popular sport in many countries, including not only France, but also Germany, Spain and Russia. A detailed account, with examples, of the most successful of these resuscitations can be found in The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, collected and introduced by Richard Lancelot Green (1983), and the extensive influence of Conan Doyle’s creations is explored in Shadows of Sherlock Holmes, selected and introduced by David Stuart Davis (1998).
Arsène Lupin himself has had a considerable afterlife. A remarkable reincarnation occurred in a Japanese manga comic in 1967. A certain Arsène Lupin III appears, claiming to be the grandson of the original gentleman thief. The Leblanc estate gave no permission for this metamorphosis of the character and a lawsuit ensued. When the animé version of this (Rupan sansei, 1971–72) was finally released in France, the character was renamed “Edgar, le détective cambrioleur” (“Edgar, the burglar detective”).
There have also been various attempts to adapt the adventures of Arsène Lupin as films. Amongst others, there was an early silent version made in America in 1917, entitled Arsene Lupin (and lacking the accent), starring Earle Williams and directed by Paul Scardon, for the Vitagraph company. It was based on a play by Francis le Croisset. John Barrymore played Lupin in the MGM version of the same play in 1932, with Barrymore’s brother Lionel as Chief Inspector Ganimard. And in Arsène Lupin Returns, also by MGM, in 1938, Lupin was played by Melvyn Douglas. Then in 1944 Charles Korvin played Lupin in Enter Arsène Lupin, made by Universal under the direction of Ford Beebe. There was a French film directed by Jacques Becker, in 1957, called Les Aventures d’Arsène Lupin, starring Robert Lamoureux. Then in 1971 there was a French TV series, directed by Jean-Pierre Decourt, with Georges Déscrières as Lupin, broadcast between 1971 and 1972. One episode broadcast in 1971 was in fact based on Lupin’s encounters with the great English sleuth, and starred Henri Virlojeux as “Herlock Sholmès”. Most recently there has been Les Aventures d’Arsène Lupin (2004), directed by Jean-Paul Salomé and starring Romain Duris. The consensus of critical opinion would seem to be that this film failed to capture the irony, wit and charm of Leblanc’s character.
Finally it should be mentioned that a computer game was released in October, 2007 with the title Sherlock Holmes versus Arsène Lupin, but its plotline bears little resemblance to Leblanc’s stories.
Conventions in the present translation
As already indicated, Leblanc modified the names and other details borrowed from the works of Conan Doyle. These modifications have been retained in the present translation, with the exception of the spelling of the name “Herlock Sholmès”. It has been decided to drop the accent grave and render it thus as “Herlock Sholmes”, as this is more natural for an English reader to pronounce. Leblanc also utilizes many ellipses in his writing. These have been retained where they clearly indicate uncertainty or omission, etc. Many which have no clear expressive purpose have been omitted. The names of French streets and places have been left in the original language.
– David Carter, 2015
Arsène Lupin vs
Sherlock Holmes
First Episode
The Blonde Woman
1
Number 514 – Series 23
On 8th of December last year, M. Gerbois, a teacher of mathematics at the Versailles secondary school, discovered among the jumble of things in an old curiosity shop a small mahogany writing desk which he liked on account of its large number of drawers.
“That’s just what I need for Suzanne’s birthday,” he thought.
And as he did his best – as far as his modest means would allow – to please his daughter, he negotiated a price and paid the sum of sixty-five francs.
Just as he was giving his address, a young man with an elegant figure, and who was already rummaging around left and right, noticed the item of furniture and asked:
“How much?”
“It’s sold,” replied the shopkeeper.
“Ah!… to this gentleman, perhaps?”
&n
bsp; M. Gerbois nodded and, all the happier to have acquired the piece of furniture now that one of his fellow men was coveting it, he left.
But he had not gone ten paces along the street before he was joined by the young man, who, with his hat in his hand and in an extremely courteous tone, said to him:
“I beg your pardon most humbly, sir… I wish to ask you an indiscreet question… Were you looking for that writing desk more particularly than any other item?”
“No, I was looking for a second-hand pair of scales for certain experiments in physics.”
“So, you don’t especially like it?”
“I just like it. That’s all.”
“Because it’s an antique, perhaps?”
“Because it’s a handy thing.”
“In that case, would you agree to exchange it for a writing desk that is just as handy but in a better condition?”
“This one is in a good condition, so there seems to me to be no point in exchanging it.”
“Yet—”
M. Gerbois was a man who was easily irritated and of a tetchy nature. He replied curtly:
“I must ask you, sir, not to insist.”
The stranger placed himself in front of him.
“I don’t know what price you paid for it, sir… I offer you double.
“No.”
“Treble?”
“Just stop right there,” exclaimed the teacher, irritated. “It belongs to me and it’s not for sale.”
The young man looked at him fixedly, in a manner which M. Gerbois was not to forget, and then, without a word, turned on his heels and went away.
An hour later the piece of furniture was brought to the small house on the Viroflay road in which the teacher lived. He summoned his daughter.
“This is for you, Suzanne, if you find it suitable of course.”
Suzanne was a pretty creature, outgoing and of a happy disposition. She flung herself round her father’s neck and embraced him with as much joy as if he had offered her a gift fit for a queen.
The same evening, after having put it in her room with the help of the maid, Hortense, she cleaned the drawers and carefully arranged in them her papers, her boxes of letters, her correspondence, her collection of postcards and some secret mementoes of her cousin Philippe.
The next day, at half-past seven, M. Gerbois went to the secondary school. At ten o’clock, Suzanne, following her daily routine, was waiting for him at the exit, and it was a great pleasure for him to catch sight of her on the pavement opposite the gate, with her graceful figure and her childlike smile.
They went back home together.
“And how do you like your writing desk?”
“It’s absolutely marvellous! Hortense and I polished the brass fittings. You’d think they were made of gold.”
“So you’re pleased with it?”
“Yes, I’m pleased with it! I mean, I don’t know how I managed without it before.”
They went across the garden in front of the house.
M. Gerbois made a suggestion:
“How about going to look at it before dinner?”
“Oh, yes! That’s a good idea.”
She went up first, but as she reached the doorway of her room, she uttered a cry of alarm.
“What’s wrong?” mumbled M. Gerbois.
He followed her into the room. The writing desk was no longer there.
What amazed the examining magistrate was the admirable simplicity of the methods used. While Suzanne was out and the maid was doing her shopping, a delivery man, displaying his identity badge – which was seen by the neighbours – had stopped his cart in front of the garden and rung twice. The neighbours, unaware that the maid was out, were not at all suspicious, so that the individual could carry out his task completely undisturbed.
It should be pointed out here that no cabinet was broken open, and no clock disturbed. What is more, Suzanne’s purse, which she had left on the marble top of the writing desk, was found on the nearby table with the few gold coins that it contained. The motive for the theft could therefore be clearly ascertained, which made the theft that much more inexplicable, for why so many risks for such a negligible gain?
The only clue which the teacher could provide was the incident of the previous day:
“When I refused, the young man immediately appeared extremely vexed, and I had the very distinct impression that he left me with an air of menace.
This was very vague. The shopkeeper was questioned. He did not know either of the two gentlemen. As for the object itself, he had bought it for forty francs in Chevreuse, in a post-mortem sale, and believed that he had sold it again at its true value. The inquiries that were conducted could discover nothing more.
But M. Gerbois remained convinced that he had endured a great wrong. A fortune must have been concealed in the false bottom of a drawer, and that was the reason why the young man, who knew its hiding place, had acted in such a decisive way.
“Poor father, what would we have done with such a fortune?” Suzanne said to him several times.
“What do you mean? With such a dowry, you could aspire to a match of the highest order.”
Suzanne, who had been limiting her aspirations to her cousin Philippe, who was a pathetic match, sighed bitterly. And in the little house in Versailles, life continued, less cheerfully, less carefree, clouded with regret and disappointment.
Two months passed. And suddenly there occurred a succession of the most serious events, an unforeseen sequence of good luck and catastrophes!
On the 1st of February, at five thirty, M. Gerbois, who had just returned home, with the evening paper in his hand, sat down, put on his glasses and started to read. As he was not interested in politics, he turned over the page. His attention was immediately drawn to an article entitled : ‘Third Draw of the Press Association Lottery’.
The newspaper slipped from his fingers. The walls swayed before his eyes, and his heart stopped beating. Number 514 – series 23. That was his number! He had bought it by chance, as a favour to one of his friends, as he did not really believe in fate. And now he had won!
He quickly pulled out his notebook. There it was, clearly written down as a memo on the endpaper: number 514 – series 23. But where was the ticket?
He dashed off to his study to look for the box of envelopes among which he had slipped the precious ticket, and as soon as he entered the room he stopped dead, feeling staggered again as his heart contracted: the box of envelopes was not there! And the terrifying thing was that he suddenly realized that it had not been there for several weeks. For weeks he had not seen it in front of him at those times when he was correcting his pupils’ homework!
There was the sound of footsteps on the gravel in the garden. He called out: “Suzanne! Suzanne!” She came running and hurried upstairs. He stammered in a choked voice:
“Suzanne… the box… the box of envelopes?”
“Which one?”
“The one from the Louvre… which I brought once on a Thursday… and which was on the end of this table.”
“But you remember, Father… we put them away together…”
“When?”
“In the evening… you know… the day before…”
“But where? Tell me… You’ll be the death of me…”
“Where?… In the writing desk.”
“In the writing desk that was stolen?”
“Yes.”
“In the writing desk that was stolen!”
He repeated the words in a very low voice in a kind of horror. Then he grasped her hand and in an even lower voice said:
“My dear daughter, it contained a million francs…”
“Oh, Father, why didn’t you tell me?” she murmured naively.
“A million!” he continued. “It was the Press Association lottery ticket for the winning number.”
The enormity of the disaster overwhelmed them, and for a long time they stood in silence, which they did not have the courage to break.
Finally Suzanne spoke:
“But Father, they’ll pay you out for it in any case.”