The Blonde Lady Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  A GLIMMER IN THE DARKNESS

  However impervious to outside influences a man's character may be--andShears is one of those men upon whom ill-luck takes hardly anyhold--there are yet circumstances in which the most undaunted feel theneed to collect their forces before again facing the chances of abattle.

  "I shall take a holiday to-day," said Shears.

  "And I?"

  "You, Wilson, must go and buy clothes and shirts and things to replenishour wardrobe. During that time, I shall rest."

  "Yes, rest, Shears. I shall watch."

  Wilson uttered those three words with all the importance of a sentryplaced on outpost duty and therefore exposed to the worst dangers. Hethrew out his chest and stiffened his muscles. With a sharp eye, heglanced round the little hotel bedroom where they had taken up theirquarters.

  "That's right, Wilson: watch. I shall employ the interval in preparing aplan of campaign better suited to the adversary whom we have to dealwith. You see, Wilson, we were wrong about Lupin. We must start againfrom the beginning."

  "Even earlier, if we can. But have we time?"

  "Nine days, old chap: five days more than we want."

  * * * * *

  The Englishman spent the whole afternoon smoking and dozing. He did notbegin operations until the following morning:

  "I'm ready now, Wilson. We can go ahead."

  "Let's go ahead," cried Wilson, full of martial ardour. "My legs aretwitching to start."

  Shears had three long interviews: first, with Maitre Detinan, whose flathe inspected through and through; next, with Suzanne Gerbois, to whom hetelegraphed to come and whom he questioned about the blonde lady; lastlywith Soeur Auguste, who had returned to the Visitation Convent afterthe murder of Baron d'Hautrec.

  At each visit, Wilson waited outside and, after each visit, asked:

  "Satisfied?"

  "Quite."

  "I was sure of it. We're on the right track now. Let's go ahead."

  They did a great deal of going. They called at the two mansions oneither side of the house in the Avenue Henri-Martin. From there theywent on to the Rue Clapeyron and, while he was examining the front ofNo. 25, Shears continued:

  "It is quite obvious that there are secret passages between all thesehouses.... But what I cannot make out...."

  For the first time and in his inmost heart, Wilson doubted theomnipotence of his talented chief. Why was he talking so much and doingso little?

  "Why?" cried Shears, replying to Wilson's unspoken thoughts. "Because,with that confounded Lupin, one has nothing to go upon; one works atrandom. Instead of deriving the truth from exact facts, one has to getat it by intuition and verify it afterward to see if it fits in."

  "But the secret passages...?"

  "What then? Even if I knew them, if I knew the one which admitted Lupinto his lawyer's study or the one taken by the blonde lady after themurder of Baron d'Hautrec, how much further should I be? Would that giveme a weapon to go for him with?"

  "Let's go for him, in any case," said Wilson.

  He had not finished speaking, when he jumped back with a cry. Somethinghad fallen at their feet: a bag half-filled with sand, which might havehurt them seriously.

  Shears looked up: some men were working in a cradle hooked on to thebalcony of the fifth floor.

  "Upon my word," he said, "we've had a lucky escape! The clumsy beggars!Another yard and we should have caught that bag on our heads. One wouldreally think...."

  He stopped, darted into the house, rushed up the staircase, rang thebell on the fifth landing, burst into the flat, to the great alarm ofthe footman who opened the door, and went out on the balcony. There wasno one there.

  "Where are the workmen who were here a moment ago?" he asked thefootman.

  "They have just gone."

  "Which way?"

  "Why, down the servants' staircase."

  Shears leant over. He saw two men leaving the house, leading theirbicycles. They mounted and rode away.

  "Have they been working on this cradle long?"

  "No, only since this morning. They were new men."

  Shears joined Wilson down below.

  They went home in a depressed mood; and this second day ended in silentgloom.

  * * * * *

  They followed a similar programme on the following day. They sat down ona bench in the Avenue Henri-Martin. Wilson, who was thoroughly bored bythis interminable wait opposite the three houses, felt driven todesperation:

  "What do you expect, Shears? To see Lupin come out?"

  "No."

  "Or the blonde lady?"

  "No."

  "What, then?"

  "I expect some little thing to happen, some little tiny thing which Ican use as a starting-point."

  "And, if nothing happens?"

  "In that case, something will happen inside myself: a spark that willset us going."

  The only incident that broke the monotony of the morning was a ratherdisagreeable one. A gentleman was coming down the riding-path thatseparates the two roadways of the avenue, when his horse swerved, struckthe bench on which they were sitting and backed against Shears'sshoulder.

  "Tut, tut!" snarled Shears. "A shade more and I should have had myshoulder smashed."

  The rider was struggling with his horse. The Englishman drew hisrevolver and took aim. But Wilson seized his arm smartly:

  "You're mad, Holmlock! Why ... look here ... you'll kill thatgentleman!"

  "Let go, Wilson ... do let go!"

  A wrestle ensued, during which the horseman got his mount under controland galloped away.

  "Now you can fire!" exclaimed Wilson, triumphantly, when the man was atsome distance.

  "But, you confounded fool, don't you understand that that was aconfederate of Arsene Lupin's?"

  Shears was trembling with rage. Wilson stammered, piteously:

  "What do you mean? That gentleman...?"

  "Was a confederate of Lupin's, like the workmen who flung that bag atour heads."

  "It's not credible!"

  "Credible or not, there was a means handy of obtaining a proof."

  "By killing that gentleman?"

  "By simply bringing down his horse. But for you, I should have got oneof Lupin's pals. Do you see now what a fool you've been?"

  The afternoon was passed in a very sullen fashion. Shears and Wilson didnot exchange a word. At five o'clock, as they were pacing up and downthe Rue Clapeyron, taking care, however, to keep away from the houses,three young workingmen came along the pavement singing, arm-in-arm,knocked up against them and tried to continue their road withoutseparating. Shears, who was in a bad temper, pushed them back. There wasa short scuffle. Shears put up his fists, struck one of the men in thechest and gave another a blow in the face, whereupon the men desistedand walked away with the third.

  "Ah," cried Shears, "I feel all the better for that!... My nerves were abit strained.... Good business!..."

  But he saw Wilson leaning against the wall:

  "Hullo, old chap," he said, "what's up? You look quite pale."

  Old chap pointed to his arm, which was hanging lifeless by his side, andstammered:

  "I don't know ... my arm's hurting me...."

  "Your arm?... Badly?"

  "Yes ... rather ... it's my right arm...."

  He tried to lift it, but could not. Shears felt it, gently at first andthen more roughly, "to see exactly," he said, "how much it hurts." Ithurt exactly so much that Wilson, on being led to a neighbouringchemist's shop, experienced an immediate need to fall into a dead faint.

  The chemist and his assistant did what they could. They discovered thatthe arm was broken and that it was a case for a surgeon, an operationand a hospital. Meanwhile, the patient was undressed and began torelieve his sufferings by roaring with pain.

  "That's all right, that's all right," said Shears, who was holdingWilson's arm. "Just a little patience, old cha
p ... in five or sixweeks, you won't know that you've been hurt.... But I'll make them payfor it, the scoundrels!... You understand.... I mean him especially ...for it's that wretched Lupin who's responsible for this.... Oh, I swearto you that if ever...."

  He interrupted himself suddenly, dropped the arm, which gave Wilson sucha shock of pain that the poor wretch fainted once more, and, strikinghis forehead, shouted:

  "Wilson, I have an idea.... Could it possibly...?"

  He stood motionless, with his eyes fixed before him, and muttered inshort sentences:

  "Yes, that's it.... It's all clear now ... the explanation staring usin the face.... Why, of course, I knew it only needed a littlethought!... Ah, my dear Wilson, this will rejoice your heart!"

  And, leaving old chap where he was, he rushed into the street and ran toNo. 25.

  One of the stones above the door, on the right, bore the inscription:"_Destange, architect_, 1875."

  The same inscription appeared on No. 23. So far, this was quite natural.But what would he find down there, in the Avenue Henri-Martin?

  He hailed a passing cab:

  "Drive to 134, Avenue Henri-Martin. Go as fast as you can."

  Standing up in the cab, he urged on the horse, promising the driver tipafter tip:

  "Faster!... Faster still!"

  He was in an agony as he turned the corner of the Rue de la Pompe. Hadhe caught a glimpse of the truth?

  On one of the stones of the house, he read the words: "_Destange,architect_, 1874." And he found the same inscription--"_Destange,architect_, 1874"--on each of the adjoining blocks of flats.

  * * * * *

  The reaction after this excitement was so great that he sank back intothe cab for a few minutes, all trembling with delight. At last a tinyglimmer flickered in the darkness! Amid the thousand intersecting pathsin the great, gloomy forest, he had found the first sign of a trailfollowed by the enemy!

  He entered a telephone-office and asked to be put on to the Chateau deCrozon. The countess herself answered.

  "Hullo!... Is that you, madame?"

  "Is that Mr. Shears? How are things going?"

  "Very well. But tell me, quickly.... Hullo! Are you there?..."

  "Yes...."

  "When was the Chateau de Crozon built?"

  "It was burnt down thirty years ago and rebuilt."

  "By whom? And in what year?"

  "There's an inscription over the front door: _'Lucien Destange,architect_, 1877.'"

  "Thank you, madame. Good-bye."

  "Good-bye."

  He went away, muttering:

  "Destange.... Lucien Destange.... I seem to know the name...."

  He found a public library, consulted a modern biographical dictionaryand copied out the reference to "Lucien Destange, born 1840, Grand-Prixde Rome, officer of the Legion of Honour, author of several valuableworks on architecture," etc.

  He next went to the chemist's and, from there, to the hospital to whichWilson had been moved. Old chap was lying on his bed of pain, with hisarm in splints, shivering with fever and slightly delirious.

  "Victory! Victory!" cried Shears. "I have one end of the clue."

  "What clue?"

  "The clue that will lead me to success. I am now treading firm soil,where I shall find marks and indications...."

  "Cigarette-ashes?" asked Wilson, whom the interest of the situation wasreviving.

  "And plenty of other things! Just think, Wilson, I have discovered themysterious link that connects the three adventures of the blonde lady.Why were the three houses in which the three adventures took placeselected by Arsene Lupin?"

  "Yes, why?"

  "Because those three houses, Wilson, were built by the same architect.It was easy to guess that, you say? Certainly it was.... And that's whynobody thought of it."

  "Nobody except yourself."

  "Just so! And I now understand how the same architect, by contrivingsimilar plans, enabled three actions to be performed which appeared tobe miraculous, though they were really quite easy and simple."

  "What luck!"

  "It was high time, old chap, for I was beginning to lose patience....This is the fourth day."

  "Out of ten."

  "Oh, but from now onward...!"

  He could no longer keep his seat, exulting in his gladness beyond hiswont:

  "Oh, when I think that, just now, in the street, those ruffians mighthave broken my arm as well as yours! What do you say to that, Wilson?"

  Wilson simply shuddered at the horrid thought.

  And Shears continued:

  "Let this be a lesson to us! You see, Wilson, our great mistake has beento fight Lupin in the open and to expose ourselves, in the most obligingway, to his attacks. The thing is not as bad as it might be, because heonly got at you...."

  "And I came off with a broken arm," moaned Wilson.

  "Whereas it might have been both of us. But no more swaggering. Watched,in broad daylight, I am beaten. Working freely, in the shade, I havethe advantage, whatever the enemy's strength may be."

  "Ganimard might be able to help you."

  "Never! On the day when I can say, 'Arsene Lupin is there; that is hishiding-place; this is how you must set to work to catch him,' I shallhunt up Ganimard at one of the two addresses he gave me, his flat in theRue Pergolese, or the Taverne Suisse, on the Place du Chatelet. But tillthen I shall act alone."

  He went up to the bed, put his hand on Wilson's shoulder--the badshoulder, of course--and said, in a very affectionate voice:

  "Take care of yourself, old chap. Your task, henceforth, will consist inkeeping two or three of Lupin's men busy. They will waste their timewaiting for me to come and inquire after you. It's a confidential task."

  "Thank you ever so much," replied Wilson, gratefully. "I shall do mybest to perform it conscientiously. So you are not coming back?"

  "Why should I?" asked Shears, coldly.

  "No ... you're quite right ... you're quite right.... I'm going on aswell as can be expected. You might do one thing for me, Holmlock: giveme a drink."

  "A drink?"

  "Yes, I'm parched with thirst; and this fever of mine...."

  "Why, of course! Wait a minute."

  He fumbled about among some bottles, came upon a packet of tobacco,filled and lit his pipe and, suddenly, as though he had not even heardhis friend's request, walked away, while old chap cast longing glancesat the water-bottle beyond his reach.

  * * * * *

  "Is M. Destange at home?"

  The butler eyed the person to whom he had opened the door of thehouse--the magnificent house at the corner of the Place Malesherbes andthe Rue Montchanin--and, at the sight of the little gray-haired,ill-shaven man, whose long and far from immaculate frock-coat matchedthe oddity of a figure to which nature had been anything but kind,replied, with due scorn:

  "M. Destange may be at home or he may be out. It depends. Has monsieur acard?"

  Monsieur had no card, but he carried a letter of introduction and thebutler had to take it to M. Destange, whereupon M. Destange ordered thenewcomer to be shown in.

  He was ushered into a large circular room, which occupied one of thewings of the house and which was lined with books all round the walls.

  "Are you M. Stickmann?" asked the architect.

  "Yes, sir."

  "My secretary writes that he is ill and sends you to continue thegeneral catalogue of my books, which he began under my direction, and ofthe German books in particular. Have you any experience of this sort ofwork?"

  "Yes, sir, a long experience," replied Stickmann, in a strong Teutonicaccent.

  In these conditions, the matter was soon settled; and M. Destange set towork with his new secretary without further delay.

  Holmlock Shears had carried the citadel.

  In order to escape Lupin's observation and to obtain an entrance intothe house which Lucien Destange occupied with his daughter Clotilde, theillustrious detective h
ad been obliged to take a leap in the dark, toresort to untold stratagems, to win the favour and confidence of a hostof people under endless different names, in short, to lead forty-eighthours of the most complex life.

  The particulars which he had gathered were these: M. Destange, who wasin failing health and anxious for rest, had retired from business andwas living among the architectural books which it had been his hobby tocollect. He had no interest left in life beyond the handling andexamining of those old dusty volumes.

  As for his daughter Clotilde, she was looked upon as eccentric. Shespent her days, like her father, in the house, but in another part ofit, and never went out.

  "This is all," thought Shears, as he wrote down the titles of the booksin his catalogue, to M. Destange's dictation, "this is all more or lessindefinite; but it is a good step forward. I am bound to discover thesolution of one at least of these exciting problems: is M. Destange anaccomplice of Arsene Lupin's? Does he see him now? Are there any papersrelating to the building of the three houses? Will these papers supplyme with the address of other properties, similarly faked, which Lupinmay have reserved for his own use and that of his gang?"

  M. Destange an accomplice of Arsene Lupin's! This venerable man, anofficer of the Legion of Honour, working hand in hand with a burglar!The presumption was hardly tenable. Besides, supposing that they wereaccomplices, how did M. Destange come to provide for Arsene Lupin'svarious escapes thirty years before they occurred, at a time when Arsenewas in his cradle?

  No matter, the Englishman stuck to his guns. With his prodigiousintuition, with that instinct which is all his own, he felt a mysterysurrounding him. This was perceptible by small signs, which he could nothave described with precision, but which impressed him from the momentwhen he first set foot in the house.

  On the morning of the second day, he had as yet discovered nothing ofinterest. He first saw Clotilde Destange at two o'clock, when she cameto fetch a book from the library. She was a woman of thirty, dark, withslow and silent movements; and her features bore the look ofindifference of those who live much within themselves. She exchanged afew words with M. Destange and left the room without so much as glancingat Shears.

  The afternoon dragged on monotonously. At five o'clock, M. Destangestated that he was going out. Shears remained alone in the circulargallery that ran round the library, half-way between floor and ceiling.It was growing dark and he was preparing to leave, in his turn, when heheard a creaking sound and, at the same time, felt that there was someone in the room. Minute followed slowly upon minute. And, suddenly, hestarted: a shadow had emerged from the semidarkness, quite close to him,on the balcony. Was it credible? How long had this unseen person beenkeeping him company? And where did he come from?

  And the man went down the steps and turned in the direction of a largeoak cupboard. Crouching on his knees behind the tapestry that coveredthe rail of the gallery, Shears watched and saw the man rummage amongthe papers with which the cupboard was crammed. What was he looking for?

  And, suddenly, the door opened and Mlle. Destange entered quickly,saying to some one behind her:

  "So you have quite changed your mind about going out, father?... In thatcase, I'll turn on the light.... Wait a minute ... don't move."

  * * * * *

  The man closed the doors of the cupboard and hid himself in theembrasure of a broad window, drawing the curtains in front of him. Howwas it that Mlle. Destange did not see him! How was it that she did nothear him? She calmly switched on the electric light and stood back forher father to pass.

  They sat down side by side. Mlle. Destange opened a book which she hadbrought with her and began to read.

  "Has your secretary gone?" she said, presently.

  "Yes ... so it seems...."

  "Are you still satisfied with him?" she continued, as if in ignorance ofthe real secretary's illness and of the arrival of Stickmann in hisstead.

  "Quite ... quite...."

  M. Destange's head dropped on his chest. He fell asleep.

  A moment elapsed. The girl went on reading. But one of the windowcurtains was moved aside and the man slipped along the wall, toward thedoor, an action which made him pass behind M. Destange, but right infront of Clotilde and in such a way that Shears was able to see himplainly. It was Arsene Lupin!

  The Englishman quivered with delight. His calculations were correct, hehad penetrated to the very heart of the mystery and Lupin was where hehad expected to find him.

  Clotilde, however, did not stir, although it was impossible that asingle movement of that man had escaped her. And Lupin was close to thedoor and had his arm stretched toward the handle, when his clothesgrazed a table and something fell to the ground. M. Destange woke with astart. In a moment, Arsene Lupin was standing before him, smiling, hatin hand.

  "Maxime Bermond!" cried M. Destange, in delight. "My dear Maxime!...What stroke of good luck brings you here to-day?"

  "The wish to see you and Mlle. Destange."

  "When did you come back?"

  "Yesterday."

  "Are you staying to dinner?"

  "Thank you, no, I am dining out with some friends."

  "Come to-morrow, then. Clotilde, make him come to-morrow. My dearMaxime!... I was thinking of you only the other day."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, I was arranging my old papers, in that cupboard, and I came acrossour last account."

  "Which one?"

  "The Avenue Henri-Martin account."

  "Do you mean to say you keep all that waste paper? What for?"

  The three moved into a little drawing-room which was connected with theround library by a wide recess.

  "Is it Lupin?" thought Shears, seized with a sudden doubt.

  All the evidence pointed to him, but it was another man as well; a manwho resembled Arsene Lupin in certain respects and who, nevertheless,preserved his distinct individuality, his own features, look andcomplexion.

  Dressed for the evening, with a white tie and a soft-fronted shirtfollowing the lines of his body, he talked gaily, telling stories whichmade M. Destange laugh aloud and which brought a smile to Clotilde'slips. And each of these smiles seemed a reward which Arsene Lupincoveted and which he rejoiced at having won. His spirits and gaietyincreased and, imperceptibly, at the sound of his clear and happy voice,Clotilde's face brightened up and lost the look of coldness that tendedto spoil it.

  "They are in love," thought Shears. "But what on earth can ClotildeDestange and Maxime Bermond have in common? Does she know that Maxime isArsene Lupin?"

  He listened anxiously until seven o'clock, making the most of every wordspoken. Then, with infinite precautions, he came down and crossed theside of the room where there was no danger of his being seen from thedrawing-room.

  * * * * *

  Once outside, after assuring himself that there was no motor-car or cabwaiting, he limped away along the Boulevard Malesherbes. Then he turneddown a side street, put on the overcoat which he carried over his arm,changed the shape of his hat, drew himself up and, thus transformed,returned to the square, where he waited, with his eyes fixed on the doorof the Hotel Destange.

  Arsene Lupin came out almost at once and walked, down the Rue deConstantinople and the Rue de Londres, toward the centre of the town.Shears followed him at a hundred yards' distance.

  It was a delicious moment for the Englishman. He sniffed the airgreedily, like a good hound scenting a fresh trail. It really seemedinfinitely sweet to him to be following his adversary. It was no longerhe that was watched, but Arsene Lupin, the invisible Arsene Lupin. Hekept him, so to speak, fastened at the end of his eyes, as though withunbreakable bonds. And he revelled in contemplating, among the otherpedestrians, this prey which belonged to him.

  But a curious incident soon struck him: in the centre of the space thatseparated Arsene Lupin and himself, other people were going in the samedirection, notably two tall fellows in bowler hats on the left pavement,while two others,
in caps, were following on the right pavement, smokingcigarettes as they went.

  This might be only a coincidence. But Shears was more surprised when thefour men stopped as Lupin entered a tobacconist's shop; and still morewhen they started again as he came out, but separately, each keeping tohis own side of the Chaussee d'Antin.

  "Confound it!" thought Shears. "He's being shadowed!"

  The idea that others were on Arsene Lupin's track, that others might robhim not of the glory--he cared little for that--but of the hugepleasure, the intense delight of conquering unaided the most formidableenemy that he had ever encountered: this idea exasperated him. And yetthere was no possibility of a mistake: the men wore that look ofdetachment, that too-natural look which distinguishes persons who, whileregulating their gait by another's, endeavour to remain unobserved.

  "Does Ganimard know more than he pretends?" muttered Shears. "Is hemaking game of me?"

  He felt inclined to accost one of the four men, with a view to acting inconcert with him. But as they approached the boulevard, the crowd becamedenser: he was afraid of losing Lupin and quickened his pace. He turnedinto the boulevard just as Lupin had his foot on the step of theRestaurant Hongrois, at the corner of the Rue du Helder. The door wasopen and Shears, sitting on a bench on the boulevard, on the oppositeside of the road, saw him take his seat at a table laid with thegreatest luxury and decorated with flowers, where he was warmly welcomedby three men in evening clothes and two beautifully-dressed ladies whohad been waiting for him.

  Shears looked for the four rough fellows and saw them scattered amongthe groups of people who were listening to the Bohemian band of theneighbouring cafe. Strange to say, they appeared to be not nearly somuch interested in Arsene Lupin as in the people surrounding them.

  Suddenly, one of them took a cigarette from his case and addressed agentleman in a frock-coat and tall hat. The gentleman offered a lightfrom his cigar and Shears received the impression that they were talkingat greater length than the mere lighting of a cigarette demanded. Atlast the gentleman went up the steps and glanced into the restaurant.Seeing Lupin, he walked up to him, exchanged a few words with him andselected a table close at hand; and Shears realized that he was noneother than the horseman of the Avenue Henri-Martin.

  Now he understood. Not only was Arsene not being shadowed, but these menwere members of his gang! These men were watching over his safety! Theywere his bodyguard, his satellites, his vigilant escort. Wherever themaster ran any danger, there his accomplices were, ready to warn him,ready to defend him. The four men were accomplices! The gentleman in thefrock-coat was an accomplice!

  A thrill passed through the Englishman's frame. Would he ever succeed inlaying hands on that inaccessible person? The power represented by anassociation of this kind, ruled by such a chief, seemed boundless.

  He tore a leaf from his note-book, wrote a few lines in pencil, put thenote in an envelope and gave it to a boy of fifteen who had lain down onthe bench beside him:

  "Here, my lad, take a cab and give this letter to the young lady behindthe bar at the Taverne Suisse on the Place du Chatelet. Be as quick asyou can."

  He handed him a five-franc piece. The boy went off.

  * * * * *

  Half an hour elapsed. The crowd had increased and Shears butoccasionally caught sight of Lupin's followers. Then some one grazedagainst him and a voice said in his ear:

  "Well, Mr. Shears, what can I do for you?"

  "Is that you, M. Ganimard?"

  "Yes; I got your note. What is it?"

  "He's there."

  "What's that you say?"

  "Over there ... inside the restaurant.... Move a little to the right....Do you see him?"

  "No."

  "He is filling the glass of the lady on his left."

  "But that's not Lupin."

  "Yes, it is."

  "I assure you.... And yet.... Well, it may be.... Oh, the rascal, _howlike himself he is!_" muttered Ganimard, innocently. "And who are theothers? Accomplices?"

  "No, the lady beside him is Lady Cliveden. The other is the Duchess ofCleath; and, opposite her, is the Spanish Ambassador in London."

  Ganimard took a step toward the road. But Shears held him back:

  "Don't be so reckless: you are alone."

  "So is he."

  "No, there are men on the boulevard mounting guard.... Not to mentionthat gentleman inside the restaurant...."

  "But I have only to take him by the collar and shout his name to havethe whole restaurant on my side, all the waiters...."

  "I would rather have a few detectives."

  "That would set Lupin's friends off.... No, Mr. Shears, we have nochoice, you see."

  He was right and Shears felt it. It was better to make the attempt andtake advantage of the exceptional circumstances. He contented himselfwith saying to Ganimard:

  "Do your best not to be recognized before you can help it."

  He himself slipped behind a newspaper-kiosk, without losing sight ofArsene Lupin who was leaning over Lady Cliveden, smiling.

  The inspector crossed the street, looking straight before him, with hishands in his pockets. But, the moment he reached the opposite pavement,he veered briskly round and sprang up the steps.

  A shrill whistle sounded.... Ganimard knocked up against thehead-waiter, who suddenly blocked the entrance and pushed him back withindignation, as he might push back any intruder whose doubtful attirewould have disgraced the luxury of the establishment. Ganimardstaggered. At the same moment, the gentleman in the frock-coat came out.He took the part of the inspector and began a violent discussion withthe head-waiter. Both of them had hold of Ganimard, one pushing himforward, the other back, until, in spite of all his efforts and angryprotests, the unhappy man was hustled to the bottom of the steps.

  A crowd gathered at once. Two policemen, attracted by the excitement,tried to make their way through; but they encountered anincomprehensible resistance and were unable to get clear of theshoulders that pushed against them, the backs that barred theirprogress.

  And, suddenly, as though by enchantment, the way was opened!... Thehead-waiter, realizing his mistake, made the most abject apologies; thegentleman in the frock-coat withdrew his assistance; the crowd parted,the policemen passed in; and Ganimard rushed toward the table with thesix guests.... There were only five left! He looked round: there was noway out except the door.

  "Where is the person who was sitting here?" he shouted to the fivebewildered guests. "Yes, there were six of you.... Where is the sixth?"

  "M. Destro?"

  "No, no: Arsene Lupin!"

  A waiter stepped up:

  "The gentleman has just gone up to the mezzanine floor."

  Ganimard flew upstairs. The mezzanine floor consisted of private roomsand had a separate exit to the boulevard!

  "It's no use now," groaned Ganimard. "He's far away by this time!"

  * * * * *

  He was not so very far away, two hundred yards at most, in the omnibusrunning between the Bastille and the Madeleine, which lumberedpeacefully along behind its three horses, crossing the Place de l'Operaand going down the Boulevard des Capucines. Two tall fellows in bowlerhats stood talking on the conductor's platform. On the top, near thesteps, a little old man sat dozing: it was Holmlock Shears.

  And, with his head swaying from side to side, rocked by the movement ofthe omnibus, the Englishman soliloquized:

  "Ah, if dear old Wilson could see me now, how proud he would be of hischief!... Pooh, it was easy to foresee, from the moment when the whistlesounded that the game was up and that there was nothing serious to bedone, except to keep a watch around the restaurant! But that devil of aman adds a zest to life, and no mistake!"

  On reaching the end of the journey, Shears leant over, saw Arsene Lupinpass out in front of his guards and heard him mutter:

  "At the Etoile."

  "The Etoile, just so: an assignation. I shall be there. I'll let him
goahead in that motor-cab, while I follow his two pals in a four-wheeler."

  The two pals went off on foot, made for the Etoile and rang at the doorof No 40, Rue Chalgrin, a house with a narrow frontage. Shears found ahiding place in the shadow of a recess formed by the angle of thatunfrequented little street.

  One of the two windows on the ground floor opened and a man in a bowlerhat closed the shutters. The window space above the shutters was lit up.

  In ten minutes' time, a gentleman came and rang at the same door; and,immediately afterward, another person. And, at last, a motor-cab drew upand Shears saw two people get out: Arsene Lupin and a lady wrapped in acloak and a thick veil.

  "The blonde lady, I presume," thought Shears, as the cab drove away.

  He waited for a moment, went up to the house, climbed on to thewindow-ledge and, by standing on tip-toe, succeeded in peering into theroom through that part of the window which the shutters failed to cover.

  Arsene Lupin was leaning against the chimney and talking in an animatedfashion. The others stood round and listened attentively. Shearsrecognized the gentleman in the frock-coat and thought he recognized thehead-waiter of the restaurant. As for the blonde lady, she was sittingin a chair, with her back turned toward him.

  "They are holding a council," he thought. "This evening's occurrenceshave alarmed them and they feel a need to discuss things.... Oh, if Icould only catch them all at one swoop!"

  One of the accomplices moved and Shears leapt down and fell back intothe shadow. The gentleman in the frock-coat and the head-waiter left thehouse. Then the first floor was lit up and some one closed thewindow-shutters. It was now dark above and below.

  "He and she have remained on the ground floor," said Holmlock tohimself. "The two accomplices live on the first story."

  He waited during a part of the night without stirring from his place,fearing lest Arsene Lupin should go away during his absence. At fouro'clock in the morning, seeing two policemen at the end of the street,he went up to them, explained the position and left them to watch thehouse.

  Then he went to Ganimard's flat in the Rue Pergolese and told theservant to wake him.

  "I've got him again."

  "Arsene Lupin?"

  "Yes."

  "If you haven't got him any better than you did just now, I may as wellgo back to bed. However, let's go and see the commissary."

  They went to the Rue Mesnil and, from there, to the house of thecommissary, M. Decointre. Next, accompanied by half a dozen men, theyreturned to the Rue Chalgrin.

  "Any news?" asked Shears of the two policemen watching the house.

  "No, sir; none."

  The daylight was beginning to show in the sky when the commissary, afterdisposing his men, rang and entered the lodge of the concierge.Terrified by this intrusion, the woman, all trembling, said that therewas no tenant on the ground floor.

  "What do you mean; no tenant?" cried Ganimard.

  "No, it's the people on the first floor, two gentlemen called Leroux....They have furnished the apartment below for some relations from thecountry...."

  "A lady and gentleman?"

  "Yes."

  "Did they come with them last night?"

  "They may have.... I was asleep.... I don't think so, though, for here'sthe key--they didn't ask for it."

  With this key, the commissary opened the door on the other side of thepassage. The ground floor flat contained only two rooms: they wereempty.

  "Impossible!" said Shears. "I saw them both here."

  The commissary grinned:

  "I dare say; but they are not here now."

  "Let us go to the first floor. They must be there."

  "The first floor is occupied by two gentlemen called Leroux."

  "We will question the two gentleman called Leroux."

  They all went upstairs and the commissary rang. At the second ring, aman, who was none other than one of the bodyguards, appeared in hisshirt-sleeves and, with a furious air:

  "Well, what is it? What's all this noise about; what do you come wakingpeople up for?"

  But he stopped in confusion:

  "Lord bless my soul!... Am I dreaming? Why, it's M. Decointre!... Andyou too, M. Ganimard? What can I do for you?"

  There was a roar of laughter. Ganimard was splitting with a fit ofmerriment which doubled him up and seemed to threaten an apoplectic fit:

  "It's you, Leroux!" he spluttered out. "Oh, that's the best thing I everheard: Leroux, Arsene Lupin's accomplice!... It'll be the death of me, Iknow it will!... And where's your brother, Leroux? Is he visible?"

  "Are you there, Edmond? It's M. Ganimard come to pay us a visit."

  Another man came forward, at the sight of whom Ganimard's hilarityincreased still further:

  "Well, I never! Dear, dear me! Ah, my friends, you're in a nicepickle.... Who would have suspected it? It's a good thing that oldGanimard keeps his eyes open and still better that he has friends tohelp him ... friends who have come all the way from England!"

  And, turning to Shears, he said:

  "Mr. Shears, let me introduce Victor Leroux, detective-inspector, one ofthe best in the iron brigade.... And Edmond Leroux, head-clerk in theFinger-print Department...."