Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes Page 14

  “My liberty?”

  “No … but I can leave the room to consult with Ganimard.”

  “And leave me alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah! Mon dieu, what good would that be? The cursed mechanism will not work,” said Lupin, at the same time savagely pushing the moulding of the mantel. He stifled a cry of surprise; this time fortune favored him—the block of marble moved. It was his salvation; his hope of escape. In that event, why submit to the conditions imposed by Sholmes? He paced up and down the room, as if he were considering his reply. Then, in his turn, he placed his hand on the shoulder of his adversary, and said:

  “All things considered, Monsieur Sholmes, I prefer to do my own business in my own way.”

  “But—”

  “No, I don’t require anyone’s assistance.”

  “When Ganimard gets his hand on you, it will be all over. You can’t escape from them.”

  “Who knows?”

  “Come, that is foolish. Every door and window is guarded.”

  “Except one.”

  “Which?”

  “The one I will choose.”

  “Mere words! Your arrest is as good as made.”

  “Oh! No—not at all.”

  “Well?”

  “I shall keep the blue diamond.”

  Sholmes looked at his watch, and said:

  “It is now ten minutes to three. At three o’clock I shall call Ganimard.”

  “Well, then, we have ten minutes to chat. And to satisfy my curiosity, Monsieur Sholmes, I should like to know how you procured my address and my name of Felix Davey?”

  Although his adversary’s easy manner caused Sholmes some anxiety, he was willing to give Lupin the desired information since it reflected credit on his professional astuteness; so he replied:

  “Your address? I got it from the Blonde Lady.”

  “Clotilde!”

  “Herself. Do you remember, yesterday morning, when I wished to take her away in the automobile, she telephoned to her dressmaker.”

  “Well?”

  “Well, I understood, later, that you were the dressmaker. And last night, on the boat, by exercising my memory—and my memory is something I have good reason to be proud of—I was able to recollect the last two figures of your telephone number—73. Then, as I possessed a list of the houses you had ‘improved,’ it was an easy matter, on my arrival in Paris at eleven o’clock this morning, to search in the telephone directory and find there the name and address of Felix Davey. Having obtained that information, I asked the aid of Monsieur Ganimard.”“Admirable! I congratulate you. But bow did you manage to catch the eight o’clock train at Havre! How did you escape from The Swallow?”

  “I did not escape.”

  “But—”

  “You ordered the captain not to reach Southampton before one o’clock. He landed me there at midnight. I was able to catch the twelve o’clock boat for Havre.”

  “Did the captain betray me? I can’t believe it.”

  “No, he did not betray you.”

  “Well, what then?”

  “It was his watch.”

  “His watch?”

  “Yes, I put it ahead one hour.”

  “How?”

  “In the usual way, by turning the hands. We were sitting side by side, talking, and I was telling him some funny stories … Why! He never saw me do it.”

  “Bravo! A very clever trick. I shall not forget it. But the clock that was hanging on the wall of the cabin?”

  “Ah! The clock was a more difficult matter, as my feet were tied, but the sailor, who guarded me during the captain’s absence, was kind enough to turn the hands for me.”

  “He? Nonsense! He wouldn’t do it.”

  “Oh! But he didn’t know the importance of his act. I told him I must catch the first train for London, at any price, and … he allowed himself to be persuaded—”

  “By means of—”

  “By means of a slight gift, which the excellent fellow, loyal and true to his master, intends to send to you.”

  “What was it?”

  “A mere trifle.”

  “But what?”

  “The blue diamond.”

  “The blue diamond!”

  “Yes, the false stone that you substituted for the Countess’ diamond. She gave it to me.”

  There was a sudden explosion of violent laughter. Lupin laughed until the tears started in his eyes.

  “Mon dieu, but it is funny! My false diamond palmed off on my innocent sailor! And the captain’s watch! And the hands of the clock!”

  Sholmes felt that the duel between him and Lupin was keener than ever. His marvellous instinct warned him that, behind his adversary’s display of mirth, there was a shrewd intellect debating the ways and means to escape. Gradually Lupin approached the Englishman, who recoiled, and, unconsciously, slipped his hand into his watch-pocket.

  “It is three o’clock, Monsieur Lupin.”

  “Three o’clock, already? What a pity! We were enjoying our chat so much.”

  “I am waiting for your answer.”

  “My answer? Mon dieu! but you are particular! … And so this is the last move in our little game—and the stake is my liberty!”

  “Or the blue diamond.”

  “Very well. It’s your play. What are you going to do?”

  “I play the king,” said Sholmes, as he fired his revolver.

  “And I the ace,” replied Lupin, as he struck at Sholmes with his fist.

  Sholmes had fired into the air, as a signal to Ganimard, whose assistance he required. But Lupin’s fist had caught Sholmes in the stomach, and caused him to double up with pain. Lupin rushed to the fireplace and set the marble slab in motion … Too late! The door opened.

  “Surrender, Lupin, or I fire!”

  Ganimard, doubtless stationed closer than Lupin had thought, Ganimard was there, with his revolver turned on Lupin. And behind Ganimard there were twenty men, strong and ruthless fellows, who would beat him like a dog at the least sign of resistance.

  “Hands down! I surrender!” said Lupin, calmly; and he folded his arms across his breast.

  Everyone was amazed. In the room, divested of its furniture and hangings, Arsène Lupin’s words sounded like an echo … “I surrender!” … It seemed incredible. No one would have been astonished if he had suddenly vanished through a trap, or if a section of the wall had rolled away and allowed him to escape. But he surrendered!

  Ganimard advanced, nervously, and with all the gravity that the importance of the occasion demanded, he placed his hand on the shoulder of his adversary, and had the infinite pleasure of saying:

  “I arrest you, Arsène Lupin.”

  “Brrr!” said Lupin, “you make me shiver, my dear Ganimard. What a lugubrious face! One would imagine you were speaking over the grave of a friend. For Heaven’s sake, don’t assume such a funereal air.”

  “I arrest you.”

  “Don’t let that worry you! In the name of the law, of which he is a well-deserving pillar, Ganimard, the celebrated Parisian detective, arrests the wicked Arsène Lupin. An historic event, of which you will appreciate the true importance … And it is the second time that it has happened. Bravo, Ganimard, you are sure of advancement in your chosen profession!”

  And he held out his wrists for the hand-cuffs. Ganimard adjusted them in a most solemn manner. The numerous policemen, despite their customary presumption and the bitterness of their feelings toward Lupin, conducted themselves with becoming modesty, astonished at being permitted to gaze upon that mysterious and intangible creature.

  “My poor Lupin,” sighed our hero, “what would your aristocratic friends say if they should see you in this humiliating position?”

  He pulled his wrists apart with all his strength. The veins in his forehead expanded. The links of the chain cut into his flesh. The chain fell off—broken.

  “Another, comrades, that one was useless.”

  They placed two on
him this time.

  “Quite right,” he said. “You cannot be too careful.”

  Then, counting the detectives and policemen, he said:

  “How many are you, my friends? Twenty-five? Thirty? That’s too many. I can’t do anything. Ah! If there had been only fifteen!”

  There was something fascinating about Lupin; it was the fascination of the great actor who plays his rôle with spirit and understanding, combined with assurance and ease. Sholmes regarded him as one might regard a beautiful painting with a due appreciation of all its perfection in coloring and technique. And he really thought that it was an equal struggle between those thirty men on one side, armed as they were with all the strength and majesty of the law, and, on the other side, that solitary individual, unarmed and handcuffed. Yes, the two sides were well-matched.

  “Well, master,” said Lupin to the Englishman, “this is your work. Thanks to you, Lupin is going to rot on the damp straw of a dungeon. Confess that your conscience pricks you a little, and that your soul is filled with remorse.”

  In spite of himself, Sholmes shrugged his shoulders, as if to say: “It’s your own fault.”

  “Never! Never!” exclaimed Lupin. “Give you the blue diamond? Oh! No, it has cost me too much trouble. I intend to keep it. On my occasion of my first visit to you in London—which will probably be next month—I will tell you my reasons. But will you be in London next month? Or do you prefer Vienna? Or Saint Petersburg?”

  Then Lupin received a surprise. A bell commenced to ring. It was not the alarm-bell, but the bell of the telephone which was located between the two windows of the room and had not yet been removed.

  The telephone! Ah! Who could it be? Who was about to fall into this unfortunate trap? Arsène Lupin exhibited an access of rage against the unlucky instrument as if he would like to break it into a thousand pieces and thus stifle the mysterious voice that was calling for him. But it was Ganimard who took down the receiver, and said:

  “Hello! … Hello! … number 648.73 … yes, this is it.”

  Then Sholmes stepped up, and, with an air of authority, pushed Ganimard aside, took the receiver, and covered the transmitter with his handkerchief in order to obscure the tone of his voice. At that moment he glanced toward Lupin, and the look which they exchanged indicated that the same idea had occurred to each of them, and that they foresaw the ultimate result of that theory: it was the Blonde Lady who was telephoning. She wished to telephone to Felix Davey, or rather to Maxime Bermond, and it was to Sholmes she was about to speak. The Englishman said:

  “Hello … Hello!”

  Then, after a silence, he said:

  “Yes, it is I, Maxime.”

  The drama had commenced and was progressing with tragic precision. Lupin, the irrepressible and nonchalant Lupin, did not attempt to conceal his anxiety, and he strained every nerve in a desire to hear or, at least, to divine the purport of the conversation. And Sholmes continued, in reply to the mysterious voice:

  “Hello! … Hello! … Yes, everything has been moved, and I am just ready to leave here and meet you as we agreed … Where? … Where you are now? … Don’t believe that he is here yet!. … ”

  Sholmes stopped, seeking for words. It was clear that he was trying to question the girl without betraying himself, and that he was ignorant of her whereabouts. Moreover, Ganimard’s presence seemed to embarrass him … Ah! if some miracle would only interrupt that cursed conversation! Lupin prayed for it with all his strength, with all the intensity of his incited nerves! After a momentary pause, Sholmes continued:

  “Hello! … Hello! … Do you hear me? … I can’t hear you very well … Can scarcely make out what you say … Are you listening? Well, I think you had better return home … No danger now … But he is in England! I have received a telegram from Southampton announcing his arrival.”

  The sarcasm of those words! Sholmes uttered them with an inexpressible comfort. And he added:

  “Very well, don’t lose any time. I will meet you there.”

  He hung up the receiver.

  “Monsieur Ganimard, can you furnish me with three men?”

  “For the Blonde Lady, eh?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know who she is, and where she is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good! That settles Monsieur Lupin … Folenfant, take two men, and go with Monsieur Sholmes.”

  The Englishman departed, accompanied by the three men.

  The game was ended. The Blonde Lady was, also, about to fall into the hands of the Englishman. Thanks to his commendable persistence and to a combination of fortuitous circumstances, the battle had resulted in a victory for the detective, and in irreparable disaster for Lupin.

  “Monsieur Sholmes!”

  The Englishman stopped.

  “Monsieur Lupin?”

  Lupin was clearly shattered by this final blow. His forehead was marked by deep wrinkles. He was sullen and dejected. However, he pulled himself together, and, notwithstanding his defeat, he exclaimed, in a cheerful tone:

  “You will concede that fate has been against me. A few minutes ago, it prevented my escape through that chimney, and delivered me into your hands. Now, by means of the telephone, it presents you with the Blonde Lady. I submit to its decrees.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I am ready to re-open our negotiation.”

  Sholmes took Ganimard aside and asked, in a manner that did not permit a reply, the authority to exchange a few words with the prisoner. Then he approached Lupin, and said, in a sharp, nervous tone:

  “What do you want?”

  “Mademoiselle Destange’s liberty.”

  “You know the price.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you accept?”

  “Yes; I accept your terms.”

  “Ah!” said the Englishman, in surprise, “but … you refused … for yourself—”

  “Yes, I can look out for myself, Monsieur Sholmes, but now the question concerns a young woman … and a woman I love. In France, understand, we have very decided ideas about such things. And Lupin has the same feelings as other people.”

  He spoke with simplicity and candor. Sholmes replied by an almost imperceptible inclination of his head, and murmured:

  “Very well, the blue diamond.”

  “Take my cane, there, at the end of the mantel. Press on the head of the cane with one hand, and, with the other, turn the iron ferrule at the bottom.”

  Holmes took the cane and followed the directions. As he did so, the head of the cane divided and disclosed a cavity which contained a small ball of wax which, in turn, enclosed a diamond. He examined it. It was the blue diamond.

  “Monsieur Lupin, Mademoiselle Destange is free.”

  “Is her future safety assured? Has she nothing to fear from you?”

  “Neither from me, nor anyone else.”

  “How can you manage it?”

  “Quite easily. I have forgotten her name and address.”

  “Thank you. And au revoir—for I will see you again, sometime, Monsieur Sholmes?”

  “I have no doubt of it.”

  Then followed an animated conversation between Sholmes and Ganimard, which was abruptly terminated by the Englishman, who said:

  “I am very sorry, Monsieur Ganimard, that we cannot agree on that point, but I have no time to waste trying to convince you. I leave for England within an hour.”

  “But … the Blonde Lady?”

  “I do not know such a person.”

  “And yet, a moment ago—”

  “You must take the affair as it stands. I have delivered Arsène Lupin into your hands. Here is the blue diamond, which you will have the pleasure of returning to the Countess de Crozon. What more do you want?”

  “The Blonde Lady.”

  “Find her.”

  Sholmes pulled his cap down over his forehead and walked rapidly away, like a man who is accustomed to go as soon as his business is finished.

&nb
sp; “Bon voyage, monsieur,” cried Lupin, “and, believe me, I shall never forget the friendly way in which our little business affairs have been arranged. My regards to Monsieur Wilson.”

  Not receiving any reply, Lupin added, sneeringly:

  “That is what is called ‘taking British leave.’ Ah! Their insular dignity lacks the flower of courtesy by which we are distinguished. Consider for a moment, Ganimard, what a charming exit a Frenchman would have made under similar circumstances! With what exquisite courtesy he would have masked his triumph! … But, God bless me, Ganimard, what are you doing? Making a search? Come, what’s the use? There is nothing left—not even a scrap of paper. I assure you my archives are in a safe place.”

  “I am not so sure of that,” replied Ganimard. “I must search everything.”

  Lupin submitted to the operation. Held by two detectives and surrounded by the others, he patiently endured the proceedings for twenty minutes, then he said:

  “Hurry up, Ganimard, and finish!”

  “You are in a hurry.”

  “Of course I am. An important appointment.”

  “At the police station?”

  “No; in the city.”

  “Ah! At what time?”

  “Two o’clock.”

  “It is three o’clock now.”

  “Just so; I will be late. And punctuality is one of my virtues.”

  “Well, give me five minutes.”

  “Not a second more,” said Lupin.

  “I am doing my best to expedite—”

  “Oh! Don’t talk so much … Still searching that cupboard? It is empty.”

  “Here are some letters.”

  “Old invoices, I presume!”

  “No; a packet tied with a ribbon.”

  “A red ribbon? Oh! Ganimard, for God’s sake, don’t untie it!”

  “From a woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “A woman of the world?”

  “The best in the world.”

  “Her name?”

  “Madame Ganimard.”

  “Very funny! Very funny!” exclaimed the detective.

  At that moment the men, who had been sent to search the other rooms, returned and announced their failure to find anything. Lupin laughed and said:

  “Parbleu! Did you expect to find my visiting list, or evidence of my business relations with the Emperor of Germany? But I can tell you what you should investigate, Ganimard: All the little mysteries of this apartment. For instance, that gas-pipe is a speaking tube. That chimney contains a stairway. That wall is hollow. And the marvellous system of bells! Ah! Ganimard, just press that button!”