Arsene Lupin vs Sherlock Holmes Page 2

  “Why would they? What proof do they have?”

  “You need to have proof?”

  “For God’s sake!”

  “You don’t have any?”

  “I have one piece of proof.”

  “So?…”

  “It’s in the box.”

  “In the box that disappeared?”

  “Yes. The other person will get it.”

  “But that would be terrible! Look, Father, can’t you make some kind of complaint?”

  “Who knows? Who knows? The man must be very powerful! He has such resources at his disposal!… Remember… that business with the piece of furniture…”

  He got up with a sudden burst of energy, and stamping his foot, said:

  “Right! No, no, he won’t get the million, he won’t get it! Why should he? After all, as clever as he is, even he can’t do anything about it. If he presents himself to cash it in, they’ll put him away. Oh yes, we shall see, my good man!”

  “So, you have an idea, Father?”

  “To defend our rights, all the way, whatever happens! And we will succeed!… The million francs is mine, and I’ll get it!”

  A few minutes later he sent off the following dispatch:

  To the Director of the Crédit Foncier, Rue Capucines, Paris. I am the owner of number 514 – series 23. I oppose by all legal means all outside claims. Gerbois.

  Almost at the same time another telegram arrived at the Crédit Foncier:

  Number 514 – series 23 is in my possession. Arsène Lupin.

  Every time I undertake to relate one of the countless adventures which constitute the life of Arsène Lupin, I become really confused, because it seems to me so clear that the most commonplace of his adventures is known to all those people who will read my account. Indeed there is not one act performed by our “national thief”, as he has been so nicely called, that has not been reported in the most sensational way, not an exploit of his that has not been studied in all its aspects, not an action that has not been commented on in such an abundance of detail that is usually reserved for reports on the actions of heroes.

  Who, for example, does not know this strange story of ‘The Blonde Woman’, with its strange episodes which the reporters entitled in large print: Number 514 – Series 23!… The Crime on Avenue Henri-Martin!… The Blue Diamond!… What a fuss there was about the intervention of the famous detective Herlock Sholmes!* What a turmoil after each of the twists and turns which marked the conflict between these two great artistes. And what a racket there was on the boulevards on the day when the newspaper sellers were loudly proclaiming “The Arrest of Arsène Lupin”!

  My excuse is that I am providing something new: I am providing the answer to the enigma. There is still some shadowy quality surrounding these adventures and I shall dissipate it. I shall reproduce articles which have been read and reread, and I shall make new copies of old interviews. But all of these I shall coordinate, classify and test for their validity. My collaborator is Arsène Lupin, whose readiness to help me is inexhaustible. And it is also, in this case, the ineffable Wilson, the friend and confidant of Sholmes.

  One remembers the tremendous burst of laughter which greeted the publication of the double telegram. The very name of Arsène Lupin is a guarantee of something unexpected, a promise of entertainment for the gallery. And the gallery in this case is the whole world.

  From the investigations conducted immediately by the Crédit Foncier, it was concluded that number 514 – series 23 had been issued by the Crédit Lyonnais, at their Versailles branch, to the artillery major Bessy. Well, this major had died by falling off his horse. It was discovered from his comrades, to whom he had confided the fact, that he must have given his ticket to a friend.

  “That friend was me,” confirmed M. Gerbois.

  “Then prove it!” objected the director of the Crédit Foncier.

  “You want me to prove it? That’s quite easy. There are at least twenty people who will tell you that I had a steady acquaintanceship with the major and that we used to meet in the café on the Place d’Armes. That’s where, one day, to oblige him when he was momentarily embarrassed, I took possession of his ticket for the sum of twenty francs.”

  “Do you have witnesses to this exchange?”

  “No.”

  “In that case, on what do you base your claim?”

  “On the letter he wrote to me on this matter.”

  “Which letter?”

  “A letter that was pinned to the ticket.”

  “Show it to me.”

  “But it was in the stolen writing desk!”

  “Then find it!”

  It was Arsène Lupin himself who made the announcement. A message was put in L’Écho de France – which has the honour of being his official organ and of which he is, it seems, one of the principal shareholders. The message announced that he was putting into the hands of Maître Detinan, his legal advisor, the letter which Major Bessy had written to him personally.

  There was an outburst of merriment: Arsène Lupin was consulting a lawyer! Arsène Lupin, playing by the established rules, had designated a member of the bar to represent him!

  All the journalists rushed to see Maître Detinan, who was an influential radical deputy, a man of high integrity, who at the same time had a fine mind and was something of a sceptic and inclined to be paradoxical.

  Maître Detinan had never had the pleasure of meeting Arsène Lupin – and he regretted it deeply – but he had indeed just received his instructions and, very touched at the honour of being thus chosen, he intended to defend the rights of his client vigorously. He opened the newly created file and, straight away, showed the major’s letter. It certainly proved the transfer of the ticket, but did not mention the name of the receiver. It simply said, “My Dear Friend…”

  “‘My Dear Friend’ – that’s me,” added Arsène Lupin in a note attached to the major’s letter. “And the best proof is that I possess the letter.”

  The horde of reporters swooped down immediately on M. Gerbois, who could only repeat:

  “‘My Dear Friend’ is no one else but me. Arsène Lupin stole the major’s letter together with the lottery ticket.”

  “Let him prove it!” retorted Lupin to the journalists.

  “But it was he who stole the writing desk!” exclaimed M. Gerbois in front of the same journalists.

  And Lupin retorted:

  “Let him prove it!”

  And this public duel between the two owners of number 514 – series 23 was a delightfully fantastic sight, as were the comings and goings of the reporters and the calmness of Arsène Lupin in the face of M. Gerbois’s panic.

  The poor man! The press was full of his lamentations! He revealed his misfortune with a touching innocence:

  “You see, gentlemen, it’s Suzanne’s dowry that this scoundrel is robbing me of. For myself, personally, I couldn’t care less, but for Suzanne! Just think, one million! Ten times a hundred thousand francs! Oh, I knew very well that the writing desk contained treasure.”

  It was in vain that people objected that, when his opponent took away the piece of furniture, he was unaware of the presence of the lottery ticket and could not in any case have foreseen that the ticket would win the big prize. He moaned:

  “Come now, he knew!… Otherwise why would he have bothered to take that wretched-looking piece of furniture?”

  “For unknown reasons, but certainly not to acquire a scrap of paper which after all was only worth the modest sum of twenty francs.”

  “The sum of one million! He knew… he knows everything! Oh, you don’t know him, that crook!… He hasn’t cheated you out of a million!”

  This dialogue could have gone on for a long time, but on the twelfth day M. Gerbois received a communication from Arsène Dubois with a note marking it “confidential” attached. He read it with growing anxiety:

  Sir, the gallery are enjoying themselves at our expense. Don’t you think the moment has come to be serious? I, for my part, am determined to be so.

  The situation is quite clear: I possess a ticket which I do not have the right to cash, and you have the right to cash a ticket that you do not possess. So neither of us can do anything without the other.

  Now, neither you would agree to yield up YOUR right, nor would I agree to give up MY ticket.

  So, what shall we do?

  I can see only one means. Let’s divide it. Half a million for you and half a million for me. Isn’t that fair? And doesn’t this judgement of Solomon satisfy the need for justice that we both share?

  It’s a just solution, but it’s also an immediate one. It is not an offer that you have the leisure to discuss, but a necessity to which circumstances force you to submit. I give you three days to think it over. On Friday morning I’d like to be able to read, in the small ads of L’Écho de France, a discreet message addressed to M. Ars. Lupin, and containing in veiled terms your support, pure and simple, for the pact that I am proposing to you. In return for this, you will regain immediate possession of the ticket and can cash it for the million francs – though it will mean handing over five hundred thousand francs through the channel which I shall indicate subsequently.

  Should you refuse, I shall take steps to ensure that the outcome will be the same. But, in addition to the very serious problems that such obstinacy will cause you, you would be subjected to a deduction of twenty-five thousand francs for additional expenses.

  Yours very sincerely,

  Arsène Lupin

  Exasperated, M. Gerbois committed the great mistake of showing this letter to others and of allowin
g a copy to be made. His indignation drove him to do all kinds of foolish things.

  “Nothing! He’ll get nothing!” he cried in front of the gathering of reporters. “Share what belongs to me? Never! Let him tear the ticket up if he wants!”

  “But five hundred thousand francs are better than nothing.”

  “That’s not the point. It’s a question of my right, and I’ll have this right upheld in court.”

  “You mean: bring a lawsuit against Arsène Lupin? That would be amusing.”

  “No, but against the Crédit Foncier. They should hand over one million francs to me.”

  “On submission of the ticket, or at least with proof that you bought it.”

  “There is proof, since Arsène Lupin admits that he stole the writing desk.”

  “Will the word of Arsène Lupin be sufficient for the courts?”

  “It does not matter. I’ll sue him.”

  The gallery was jumping with joy. Bets were laid, some claiming that Lupin would crush M. Gerbois, and others that he would be crushed for the threats he had made. And people felt a sort of apprehension, as the strengths of the two adversaries were so uneven, one of them so formidable in his mode of attack and the other in such a state of alarm, like an animal that is being tracked down.

  On Friday they fought over copies of L’Écho de France, and they feverishly scanned the classifieds section on the fifth page. Not a line was addressed to M. Ars. Lupin. To Arsène Lupin’s injunctions M. Gerbois was replying with silence. It was a declaration of war.

  That evening the world learnt via the newspapers of the abduction of Mlle Gerbois.

  What we find most amusing in what one could call the entertainments provided by Arsène Lupin is the eminently comic role played by the police. Everything takes place without their involvement. It is he who speaks, writes, makes predictions, gives orders, makes threats, as if no one existed, neither a chief of the Sûreté, nor officers, nor superintendents – nobody, in fact, who could hinder him in his intentions. All that is considered null and void. Obstacles do not matter.

  Yet the police thrash about. As soon as it is something involving Arsène Lupin, everyone, from top to bottom of the scale, becomes incensed, and boiling and fuming with rage. He is the enemy, and one who taunts you, provokes you, despises you and, even worse, ignores you.

  And what can be done against such an enemy? At twenty to ten, according to the evidence of the maid, Suzanne left home. At five past ten, as he was coming out of the secondary school, he noticed that she was not on the pavement, where she used to wait for him. But it all happened in the course of the short five-minute walk which took Suzanne from her home to the secondary school, or at least to the area around the school.

  Two neighbours confirmed that they had passed her coming the other way at about three hundred paces from the house. A lady had seen a young woman walking along the avenue, and her description matched that of the missing woman. And after that? What happened after that nobody knew.

  They searched everywhere. The employees at the stations and the customs offices were questioned. They had noticed nothing on that day which could be related to the abduction of a young woman. However, at Ville-d’Avray a grocer reported that he had supplied oil to a closed vehicle which came from Paris. In the driving seat was a driver and inside was a blonde woman – an extremely blonde woman, as the witness made clear. One hour later the vehicle returned from Versailles. Road congestion obliged him to slow down, which allowed the grocer to notice the presence, beside the blonde woman he had already glimpsed, of another woman, wrapped up in shawls and veils. This was no doubt Suzanne Gerbois.

  So they had to assume that the abduction had taken place in full daylight, on a frequently used road and in the very centre of the town!

  But how could this have happened? And where? No cry had been heard, and no suspicious movement had been noticed.

  The grocer provided a description of the car, which was a twenty-four horsepower limousine made by the Peugeon company, with dark-blue bodywork. On the off chance, enquiries were made of the woman in charge of the Grand-Garage, a Mme Bob-Walthour, who had made abductions by car her speciality. And indeed, on the Friday morning, she had rented out for the day a Peugeon limousine to a blonde woman, whom she had also not seen again.

  “And what about the driver?”

  “It was a man called Ernest, who had been employed the day before on the basis of excellent references.”

  “Is he here now?”

  “No, he brought back the car and didn’t come back again.”

  “Can’t we track him down?”

  “Certainly, through the persons he gave as referees. Here are their names.”

  “They went to see these persons. Not one of them knew the name Ernest.”

  And so, whatever track they pursued to throw light on the situation, they end up more in the dark, more mystified, than before.

  M. Gerbois did not have the strength to keep up a fight which began for him in such a disastrous way. Inconsolable since the disappearance of his daughter, and racked by remorse, he gave up.

  A small announcement which appeared in L’Écho de France, and which everyone commented on, confirmed the fact that he was giving up outright and without reservation.

  It meant victory. The battle was over within four days.

  Two days later, M. Gerbois crossed the courtyard of the Crédit Foncier building. On being introduced into the presence of the director, he held out ticket number 514 – series 23. The director started.

  “Oh, you’ve got it? He gave it back to you?”

  “It was mislaid. Here it is,” replied M. Gerbois.

  “But you claimed… There was the matter of—”

  “All that’s idle gossip and lies.”

  “But we still need some sort of document to support it.”

  “Will the major’s letter be sufficient?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Here it is.”

  “Perfect. Please deposit the documents here with us. We need a fortnight to verify them. I shall inform you as soon as you can present yourself at our cashier’s desk. Until then, sir, I believe that it is in your best interest to say nothing and to bring this matter to a close in complete silence.”

  “That is my intention.”

  M. Gerbois did not say anything else, and neither did the director. But there are secrets which are revealed without any indiscretion being committed whatsoever, and it suddenly became known that Arsène Lupin had had the audacity to return ticket number 514 – series 23 to M. Gerbois! The news was received with admiration mixed with astonishment. Only a truly good gambler could throw onto the table such an important trump card as that precious ticket! Surely it had only been relinquished deliberately and as a card which would restore the balance. But what if the young woman escaped? What if they managed to get back the hostage he was holding?

  The police were aware of their enemy’s weak spot and redoubled its efforts. With Arsène Lupin disarmed, himself the cause of his being robbed, and caught in the convolutions of his own schemes and not able to touch a single sou of his coveted million, it was as a result of this, the other side who were laughing.

  However, they had to find Suzanne. But she could not be found and, what was more, she had not escaped.

  Very well, it was agreed, the point had been established: Arsène Lupin had won the first round. But the most difficult thing was still to be achieved! He has Mlle Gerbois in his hands, it’s true, and he will only return her for five hundred thousand francs. But where and how will the exchange take place? In order for the exchange to take place, a meeting place must be arranged, and so what is preventing M. Gerbois from informing the police and in this way getting his daughter back while keeping his money?

  The teacher was interviewed. Demoralized and anxious to be left in peace, he remained inscrutable.

  “I have nothing to say. I’m just waiting.”

  “What about Mlle Gerbois?”

  “The search continues.”

  “But didn’t Arsène Lupin write to you?”

  “No.”

  “Can you confirm that?”

  “No.”

  “That means yes. What instructions has he given you?”