Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes Page 4

  CHAPTER IV.

  LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS.

  However well-tempered a man's character may be--and Herlock Sholmes isone of those men over whom ill-fortune has little or no hold--there arecircumstances wherein the most courageous combatant feels the necessityof marshaling his forces before risking the chances of a battle.

  "I shall take a vacation to-day," said Sholmes.

  "And what shall I do?" asked Wilson.

  "You, Wilson--let me see! You can buy some underwear and linen toreplenish our wardrobe, while I take a rest."

  "Very well, Sholmes, I will watch while you sleep."

  Wilson uttered these words with all the importance of a sentinel onguard at the outpost, and therefore exposed to the greatest danger. Hischest was expanded; his muscles were tense. Assuming a shrewd look, hescrutinized, officially, the little room in which they had fixed theirabode.

  "Very well, Wilson, you can watch. I shall occupy myself in thepreparation of a line of attack more appropriate to the methods of theenemy we are called upon to meet. Do you see, Wilson, we have beendeceived in this fellow Lupin. My opinion is that we must commence atthe very beginning of this affair."

  "And even before that, if possible. But have we sufficient time?"

  "Nine days, dear boy. That is five too many."

  The Englishman spent the entire afternoon in smoking and sleeping. Hedid not enter upon his new plan of attack until the following day. Thenhe said:

  "Wilson, I am ready. Let us attack the enemy."

  "Lead on, Macduff!" exclaimed Wilson, full of martial ardor. "I wish tofight in the front rank. Oh! have no fear. I shall do credit to my Kingand country, for I am an Englishman."

  In the first place, Sholmes had three long and important interviews:With Monsieur Detinan, whose rooms he examined with the greatest careand precision; with Suzanne Gerbois, whom he questioned in regard to theblonde Lady; and with Sister Auguste, who had retired to the convent ofthe Visitandines since the murder of Baron d'Hautrec.

  At each of these interviews Wilson had remained outside; and each timehe asked:

  "Satisfactory?"

  "Quite so."

  "I was sure we were on the right track."

  They paid a visit to the two houses adjoining that of the late Barond'Hautrec in the avenue Henri-Martin; then they visited the rueClapeyron, and, while he was examining the front of number 25, Sholmessaid:

  "All these houses must be connected by secret passages, but I can't findthem."

  For the first time in his life, Wilson doubted the omnipotence of hisfamous associate. Why did he now talk so much and accomplish so little?

  "Why?" exclaimed Sholmes, in answer to Wilson's secret thought,"because, with this fellow Lupin, a person has to work in the dark, and,instead of deducting the truth from established facts, a man mustextract it from his own brain, and afterward learn if it is supported bythe facts in the case."

  "But what about the secret passages?"

  "They must exist. But even though I should discover them, and thus learnhow Arsene Lupin made his entrance to the lawyer's house and how theblonde Lady escaped from the house of Baron d'Hautrec after the murder,what good would it do? How would it help me? Would it furnish me with aweapon of attack?"

  "Let us attack him just the same," exclaimed Wilson, who had scarcelyuttered these words when he jumped back with a cry of alarm. Somethinghad fallen at their feet; it was a bag filled with sand which might havecaused them serious injury if it had struck them.

  Sholmes looked up. Some men were working on a scaffolding attached tothe balcony at the fifth floor of the house. He said:

  "We were lucky; one step more, and that heavy bag would have fallen onour heads. I wonder if--"

  Moved by a sudden impulse, he rushed into the house, up the five flightsof stairs, rang the bell, pushed his way into the apartment to the greatsurprise and alarm of the servant who came to the door, and made hisway to the balcony in front of the house. But there was no one there.

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

  "They have just gone."

  "Which way did they go?"

  "By the servants' stairs."

  Sholmes leaned out of the window. He saw two men leaving the house,carrying bicycles. They mounted them and quickly disappeared around thecorner.

  "How long have they been working on this scaffolding!"

  "Those men!... only since this morning. It's their first day."

  Sholmes returned to the street, and joined Wilson. Together theyreturned to the hotel, and thus the second day ended in a mournfulsilence.

  On the following day their programme was almost similar. They sattogether on a bench in the avenue Henri-Martin, much to Wilson'sdisgust, who did not find it amusing to spend long hours watching thehouse in which the tragedy had occurred.

  "What do you expect, Sholmes! That Arsene Lupin will walk out of thehouse!"

  "No."

  "That the blonde Lady will make her appearance!"

  "No."

  "What then!"

  "I am looking for something to occur; some slight incident that willfurnish me with a clue to work on."

  "And if it does not occur!"

  "Then I must, myself, create the spark that will set fire to thepowder."

  A solitary incident--and that of a disagreeable nature--broke themonotony of the forenoon.

  A gentleman was riding along the avenue when his horse suddenly turnedaside in such a manner that it ran against the bench on which they weresitting, and struck Sholmes a slight blow on the shoulder.

  "Ha!" exclaimed Sholmes, "a little more and I would have had a brokenshoulder."

  The gentleman struggled with his horse. The Englishman drew his revolverand pointed it; but Wilson seized his arm, and said:

  "Don't be foolish! What are you going to do! Kill the man!"

  "Leave me alone, Wilson! Let go!"

  During the brief struggle between Sholmes and Wilson the stranger rodeaway.

  "Now, you can shoot," said Wilson, triumphantly, when the horseman wasat some distance.

  "Wilson, you're an idiot! Don't you understand that the man is anaccomplice of Arsene Lupin?"

  Sholmes was trembling from rage. Wilson stammered pitifully:

  "What!... that man ... an accomplice?"

  "Yes, the same as the workmen who tried to drop the bag of sand on usyesterday."

  "It can't be possible!"

  "Possible or not, there was only one way to prove it."

  "By killing the man?"

  "No--by killing the horse. If you hadn't grabbed my arm, I should havecaptured one of Lupin's accomplices. Now, do you understand the folly ofyour act?"

  Throughout the afternoon both men were morose. They did not speak a wordto each other. At five o'clock they visited the rue Clapeyron, but werecareful to keep at a safe distance from the houses. However, three youngmen who were passing through the street, arm in arm, singing, ranagainst Sholmes and Wilson and refused to let them pass. Sholmes, whowas in an ill humor, contested the right of way with them. After a briefstruggle, Sholmes resorted to his fists. He struck one of the men a hardblow on the chest, another a blow in the face, and thus subdued two ofhis adversaries. Thereupon the three of them took to their heels anddisappeared.

  "Ah!" exclaimed Sholmes, "that does me good. I needed a littleexercise."

  But Wilson was leaning against the wall. Sholmes said:

  "What's the matter, old chap? You're quite pale."

  Wilson pointed to his left arm, which hung inert, and stammered:

  "I don't know what it is. My arm pains me."

  "Very much?... Is it serious?"

  "Yes, I am afraid so."

  He tried to raise his arm, but it was helpless. Sholmes felt it, gentlyat first, then in a rougher way, "to see how badly it was hurt," hesaid. He concluded that Wilson was really hurt, so he led him to aneighboring pharmacy, where a closer examination revealed the fact thatthe arm was broken
and that Wilson was a candidate for the hospital. Inthe meantime they bared his arm and applied some remedies to ease hissuffering.

  "Come, come, old chap, cheer up!" said Sholmes, who was holding Wilson'sarm, "in five or six weeks you will be all right again. But I will paythem back ... the rascals! Especially Lupin, for this is his work ... nodoubt of that. I swear to you if ever----"

  He stopped suddenly, dropped the arm--which caused Wilson such an accessof pain that he almost fainted--and, striking his forehead, Sholmessaid:

  "Wilson, I have an idea. You know, I have one occasionally."

  He stood for a moment, silent, with staring eyes, and then muttered, inshort, sharp phrases:

  "Yes, that's it ... that will explain all ... right at my feet ... and Ididn't see it ... ah, parbleu! I should have thought of it before....Wilson, I shall have good news for you."

  Abruptly leaving his old friend, Sholmes ran into the street and wentdirectly to the house known as number 25. On one of the stones, to theright of the door, he read this inscription: "Destange, architect,1875."

  There was a similar inscription on the house numbered 23.

  Of course, there was nothing unusual in that. But what might be read onthe houses in the avenue Henri-Martin?

  A carriage was passing. He engaged it and directed the driver to takehim to No. 134 avenue Henri-Martin. He was roused to a high pitch ofexcitement. He stood up in the carriage and urged the horse to greaterspeed. He offered extra pourboires to the driver. Quicker! Quicker!

  How great was his anxiety as they turned from the rue de la Pompe! Hadhe caught a glimpse of the truth at last?

  On one of the stones of the late Baron's house he read the words:"Destange, architect, 1874." And a similar inscription appeared on thetwo adjoining houses.

  * * * * *

  The reaction was such that he settled down in the seat of the carriage,trembling from joy. At last, a tiny ray of light had penetrated the darkshadows which encompassed these mysterious crimes! In the vast sombreforest wherein a thousand pathways crossed and re-crossed, he haddiscovered the first clue to the track followed by the enemy!

  He entered a branch postoffice and obtained telephonic connection withthe chateau de Crozon. The Countess answered the telephone call.

  "Hello!... Is that you, madame?"

  "Monsieur Sholmes, isn't it? Everything going all right?"

  "Quite well, but I wish to ask you one question.... Hello!"

  "Yes, I hear you."

  "Tell me, when was the chateau de Crozon built?"

  "It was destroyed by fire and rebuilt about thirty years ago."

  "Who built it, and in what year?"

  "There is an inscription on the front of the house which reads: 'LucienDestange, architect, 1877.'"

  "Thank you, madame, that is all. Good-bye."

  He went away, murmuring: "Destange ... Lucien Destange ... that name hasa familiar sound."

  He noticed a public reading-room, entered, consulted a dictionary ofmodern biography, and copied the following information: "LucienDestange, born 1840, Grand-Prix de Rome, officer of the Legion of Honor,author of several valuable books on architecture, etc...."

  Then he returned to the pharmacy and found that Wilson had been taken tothe hospital. There Sholmes found him with his arm in splints, andshivering with fever.

  "Victory! Victory!" cried Sholmes. "I hold one end of the thread."

  "Of what thread?"

  "The one that leads to victory. I shall now be walking on solid ground,where there will be footprints, clues...."

  "Cigarette ashes?" asked Wilson, whose curiosity had overcome his pain.

  "And many other things! Just think, Wilson, I have found the mysteriouslink which unites the different adventures in which the blonde Ladyplayed a part. Why did Lupin select those three houses for the scenes ofhis exploits?"

  "Yes, why?"

  "Because those three houses were built by the same architect. That wasan easy problem, eh? Of course ... but who would have thought of it?"

  "No one but you."

  "And who, except I, knows that the same architect, by the use ofanalogous plans, has rendered it possible for a person to execute threedistinct acts which, though miraculous in appearance, are, in reality,quite simple and easy?"

  "That was a stroke of good luck."

  "And it was time, dear boy, as I was becoming very impatient. You know,this is our fourth day."

  "Out of ten."

  "Oh! after this----"

  Sholmes was excited, delighted, and gayer than usual.

  "And when I think that these rascals might have attacked me in thestreet and broken my arm just as they did yours! Isn't that so, Wilson?"

  Wilson simply shivered at the horrible thought. Sholmes continued:

  "We must profit by the lesson. I can see, Wilson, that we were wrong totry and fight Lupin in the open, and leave ourselves exposed to hisattacks."

  "I can see it, and feel it, too, in my broken arm," said Wilson.

  "You have one consolation, Wilson; that is, that I escaped. Now, I mustbe doubly cautious. In an open fight he will defeat me; but if I canwork in the dark, unseen by him, I have the advantage, no matter howstrong his forces may be."

  "Ganimard might be of some assistance."

  "Never! On the day that I can truly say: Arsene Lupin is there; I showyou the quarry, and how to catch it; I shall go and see Ganimard at oneof the two addresses that he gave me--his residence in the ruePergolese, or at the Suisse tavern in the Place du Chatelet. But, untilthat time, I shall work alone."

  He approached the bed, placed his hand on Wilson's shoulder--on the soreone, of course--and said to him:

  "Take care of yourself, old fellow. Henceforth your role will be to keeptwo or three of Arsene Lupin's men busy watching here in vain for myreturn to enquire about your health. It is a secret mission for you,eh!"

  "Yes, and I shall do my best to fulfil it conscientiously. Then you donot expect to come here any more?"

  "What for?" asked Sholmes.

  "I don't know ... of course.... I am getting on as well as possible.But, Herlock, do me a last service: give me a drink."

  "A drink?"

  "Yes, I am dying of thirst; and with my fever----"

  "To be sure--directly----"

  He made a pretense of getting some water, perceived a package oftobacco, lighted his pipe, and then, as if he had not heard his friend'srequest, he went away, whilst Wilson uttered a mute prayer for theinaccessible water.

  * * * * *

  "Monsieur Destange!"

  The servant eyed from head to foot the person to whom he had opened thedoor of the house--the magnificent house that stood at the corner of thePlace Malesherbes and the rue Montchanin--and at the sight of the manwith gray hairs, badly shaved, dressed in a shabby black coat, with abody as ill-formed and ungracious as his face, he replied with thedisdain which he thought the occasion warranted:

  "Monsieur Destange may or may not be at home. That depends. Has monsieura card?"

  Monsieur did not have a card, but he had a letter of introduction and,after the servant had taken the letter to Mon. Destange, he wasconducted into the presence of that gentleman who was sitting in a largecircular room or rotunda which occupied one of the wings of the house.It was a library, and contained a profusion of books and architecturaldrawings. When the stranger entered, the architect said to him:

  "You are Monsieur Stickmann?"

  "Yes, monsieur."

  "My secretary tells me that he is ill, and has sent you to continue thegeneral catalogue of the books which he commenced under my direction,and, more particularly, the catalogue of German books. Are you familiarwith that kind of work?"

  "Yes, monsieur, quite so," he replied, with a strong German accent.

  Under those circumstances the bargain was soon concluded, and Mon.Destange commenced work with his new secretary.

  Herlock Sholmes had gained access t
o the house.

  In order to escape the vigilance of Arsene Lupin and gain admittance tothe house occupied by Lucien Destange and his daughter Clotilde, thefamous detective had been compelled to resort to a number ofstratagems, and, under a variety of names, to ingratiate himself intothe good graces and confidence of a number of persons--in short, tolive, during forty-eight hours, a most complicated life. During thattime he had acquired the following information: Mon. Destange, havingretired from active business on account of his failing health, now livedamongst the many books he had accumulated on the subject ofarchitecture. He derived infinite pleasure in viewing and handling thosedusty old volumes.

  His daughter Clotilde was considered eccentric. She passed her time inanother part of the house, and never went out.

  "Of course," Sholmes said to himself, as he wrote in a register thetitles of the books which Mon. Destange dictated to him, "all that isvague and incomplete, but it is quite a long step in advance. I shallsurely solve one of these absorbing problems: Is Mon. Destangeassociated with Arsene Lupin? Does he continue to see him? Are thepapers relating to the construction of the three houses still inexistence? Will those papers not furnish me with the location of otherhouses of similar construction which Arsene Lupin and his associateswill plunder in the future?

  "Monsieur Destange, an accomplice of Arsene Lupin! That venerable man,an officer of the Legion of Honor, working in league with aburglar--such an idea was absurd! Besides, if we concede that such acomplicity exists, how could Mon. Destange, thirty years ago, havepossibly foreseen the thefts of Arsene Lupin, who was then an infant?"

  No matter! The Englishman was implacable. With his marvellous scent, andthat instinct which never fails him, he felt that he was in the heart ofsome strange mystery. Ever since he first entered the house, he had beenunder the influence of that impression, and yet he could not define thegrounds on which he based his suspicions.

  Up to the morning of the second day he had not made any significantdiscovery. At two o'clock of that day he saw Clotilde Destange for thefirst time; she came to the library in search of a book. She was aboutthirty years of age, a brunette, slow and silent in her movements, withfeatures imbued with that expression of indifference which ischaracteristic of people who live a secluded life. She exchanged a fewwords with her father, and then retired, without even looking atSholmes.

  The afternoon dragged along monotonously. At five o'clock Mon. Destangeannounced his intention to go out. Sholmes was alone on the circulargallery that was constructed about ten feet above the floor of therotunda. It was almost dark. He was on the point of going out, when heheard a slight sound and, at the same time, experienced the feeling thatthere was someone in the room. Several minutes passed before he saw orheard anything more. Then he shuddered; a shadowy form emerged from thegloom, quite close to him, upon the balcony. It seemed incredible. Howlong had this mysterious visitor been there? Whence did he come?

  The strange man descended the steps and went directly to a large oakencupboard. Sholmes was a keen observer of the man's movements. He watchedhim searching amongst the papers with which the cupboard was filled.What was he looking for?

  Then the door opened and Mlle. Destange entered, speaking to someone whowas following her:

  "So you have decided not to go out, father?... Then I will make a light... one second ... do not move...."

  The strange man closed the cupboard and hid in the embrasure of a largewindow, drawing the curtains together. Did Mlle. Destange not see him?Did she not hear him? Calmly she turned on the electric lights; she andher father sat down close to each other. She opened a book she hadbrought with her, and commenced to read. After the lapse of a fewminutes she said:

  "Your secretary has gone."

  "Yes, I don't see him."

  "Do you like him as well as you did at first?" she asked, as if she werenot aware of the illness of the real secretary and his replacement byStickmann.

  "Oh! yes."

  Monsieur Destange's head bobbed from one side to the other. He wasasleep. The girl resumed her reading. A moment later one of the windowcurtains was pushed back, and the strange man emerged and glided alongthe wall toward the door, which obliged him to pass behind Mon. Destangebut in front of Clotilde, and brought him into the light so thatHerlock Sholmes obtained a good view of the man's face. It was ArseneLupin.

  The Englishman was delighted. His forecast was verified; he hadpenetrated to the very heart of the mystery, and found Arsene Lupin tobe the moving spirit in it.

  Clotilde had not yet displayed any knowledge of his presence, althoughit was quite improbable that any movement of the intruder had escapedher notice. Lupin had almost reached the door and, in fact, his hand wasalready seeking the door-knob, when his coat brushed against a smalltable and knocked something to the floor. Monsieur Destange awoke with astart. Arsene Lupin was already standing in front of him, hat in hand,smiling.

  "Maxime Bermond," exclaimed Mon. Destange, joyfully. "My dear Maxime,what lucky chance brings you here?"

  "The wish to see you and Mademoiselle Destange."

  "When did you return from your journey?"

  "Yesterday."

  "You must stay to dinner."

  "No, thank you, I am sorry, but I have an appointment to dine with somefriends at a restaurant."

  "Come, to-morrow, then, Clotilde, you must urge him to come to-morrow.Ah! my dear Maxime.... I thought of you many times during your absence."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, I went through all my old papers in that cupboard, and found ourlast statement of account."

  "What account?"

  "Relating to the avenue Henri-Martin."

  "Ah! do you keep such papers? What for?"

  Then the three of them left the room, and continued their conversationin a small parlor which adjoined the library.

  "Is it Lupin?" Sholmes asked himself, in a sudden access of doubt.Certainly, from all appearances, it was he; and yet it was also someoneelse who resembled Arsene Lupin in certain respects, and who stillmaintained his own individuality, features, and color of hair. Sholmescould hear Lupin's voice in the adjoining room. He was relating somestories at which Mon. Destange laughed heartily, and which even broughta smile to the lips of the melancholy Clotilde. And each of thosesmiles appeared to be the reward which Arsene Lupin was seeking, andwhich he was delighted to have secured. His success caused him toredouble his efforts and, insensibly, at the sound of that clear andhappy voice, Clotilde's face brightened and lost that cold and listlessexpression which usually pervaded it.

  "They love each other," thought Sholmes, "but what the deuce can therebe in common between Clotilde Destange and Maxime Bermond? Does she knowthat Maxime is none other than Arsene Lupin?"

  Until seven o'clock Sholmes was an anxious listener, seeking to profitby the conversation. Then, with infinite precaution, he descended fromthe gallery, crept along the side of the room to the door in such amanner that the people in the adjoining room did not see him.

  When he reached the street Sholmes satisfied himself that there wasneither an automobile nor a cab waiting there; then he slowly limpedalong the boulevard Malesherbes. He turned into an adjacent street,donned the overcoat which he had carried on his arm, altered the shapeof his hat, assumed an upright carriage, and, thus transformed,returned to a place whence he could watch the door of Mon. Destange'shouse.

  In a few minutes Arsene Lupin came out, and proceeded to walk toward thecenter of Paris by way of the rues de Constantinople and London. HerlockSholmes followed at a distance of a hundred paces.

  Exciting moments for the Englishman! He sniffed the air, eagerly, like ahound following a fresh scent. It seemed to him a delightful thing thusto follow his adversary. It was no longer Herlock Sholmes who was beingwatched, but Arsene Lupin, the invisible Arsene Lupin. He held him, soto speak, within the grasp of his eye, by an imperceptible bond thatnothing could break. And he was pleased to think that the quarrybelonged to him.

  But he soon observed a suspi
cious circumstance. In the intervening spacebetween him and Arsene Lupin he noticed several people traveling in thesame direction, particularly two husky fellows in slouch hats on theleft side of the street, and two others on the right wearing caps andsmoking cigarettes. Of course, their presence in that vicinity may havebeen the result of chance, but Sholmes was more astonished when heobserved that the four men stopped when Lupin entered a tobacco shop;and still more surprised when the four men started again after Lupinemerged from the shop, each keeping to his own side of the street.

  "Curse it!" muttered Sholmes; "he is being followed."

  He was annoyed at the idea that others were on the trail of ArseneLupin; that someone might deprive him, not of the glory--he cared littlefor that--but of the immense pleasure of capturing, single-handed, themost formidable enemy he had ever met. And he felt that he was notmistaken; the men presented to Sholmes' experienced eye the appearanceand manner of those who, while regulating their gait to that of another,wish to present a careless and natural air.

  "Is this some of Ganimard's work?" muttered Sholmes. "Is he playing mefalse?"

  He felt inclined to speak to one of the men with a view of acting inconcert with him; but as they were now approaching the boulevard thecrowd was becoming denser, and he was afraid he might lose sight ofLupin. So he quickened his pace and turned into the boulevard just intime to see Lupin ascending the steps of the Hungarian restaurant at thecorner of the rue du Helder. The door of the restaurant was open, sothat Sholmes, while sitting on a bench on the other side of theboulevard, could see Lupin take a seat at a table, luxuriously appointedand decorated with flowers, at which three gentlemen and two ladies ofelegant appearance were already seated and who extended to Lupin ahearty greeting.

  Sholmes now looked about for the four men and perceived them amongst acrowd of people who were listening to a gipsy orchestra that was playingin a neighboring cafe. It was a curious thing that they were paying noattention to Arsene Lupin, but seemed to be friendly with the peoplearound them. One of them took a cigarette from his pocket and approacheda gentleman who wore a frock coat and silk hat. The gentleman offeredthe other his cigar for a light, and Sholmes had the impression thatthey talked to each other much longer than the occasion demanded.Finally the gentleman approached the Hungarian restaurant, entered andlooked around. When he caught sight of Lupin he advanced and spoke tohim for a moment, then took a seat at an adjoining table. Sholmes nowrecognized this gentleman as the horseman who had tried to run him downin the avenue Henri-Martin.

  Then Sholmes understood that these men were not tracking Arsene Lupin;they were a part of his band. They were watching over his safety. Theywere his bodyguard, his satellites, his vigilant escort. Wherever dangerthreatened Lupin, these confederates were at hand to avert it, ready todefend him. The four men were accomplices. The gentleman in the frockcoat was an accomplice. These facts furnished the Englishman with foodfor reflection. Would he ever succeed in capturing that inaccessibleindividual? What unlimited power was possessed by such an organization,directed by such a chief!

  He tore a leaf from his notebook, wrote a few lines in pencil, which heplaced in an envelope, and said to a boy about fifteen years of age whowas sitting on the bench beside him:

  "Here, my boy; take a carriage and deliver this letter to the cashier ofthe Suisse tavern, Place du Chatelet. Be quick!"

  He gave him a five-franc piece. The boy disappeared.

  A half hour passed away. The crowd had grown larger, and Sholmesperceived only at intervals the accomplices of Arsene Lupin. Thensomeone brushed against him and whispered in his ear:

  "Well! what is it, Monsieur Sholmes?"

  "Ah! it is you, Ganimard?"

  "Yes; I received your note at the tavern. What's the matter?"

  "He is there."

  "What do you mean?"

  "There ... in the restaurant. Lean to the right.... Do you see him now?"

  "No."

  "He is pouring a glass of champagne for the lady."

  "That is not Lupin."

  "Yes, it is."

  "But I tell you.... Ah! yet, it may be. It looks a great deal like him,"said Ganimard, naively. "And the others--accomplices?"

  "No; the lady sitting beside him is Lady Cliveden; the other is theDuchess de Cleath. The gentleman sitting opposite Lupin is the SpanishAmbassador to London."

  Ganimard took a step forward. Sholmes retained him.

  "Be prudent. You are alone."

  "So is he."

  "No, he has a number of men on the boulevard mounting guard. And insidethe restaurant that gentleman----"

  "And I, when I take Arsene Lupin by the collar and announce his name, Ishall have the entire room on my side and all the waiters."

  "I should prefer to have a few policemen."

  "But, Monsieur Sholmes, we have no choice. We must catch him when wecan."

  He was right; Sholmes knew it. It was better to take advantage of theopportunity and make the attempt. Sholmes simply gave this advice toGanimard:

  "Conceal your identity as long as possible."

  Sholmes glided behind a newspaper kiosk, whence he could still watchLupin, who was leaning toward Lady Cliveden, talking and smiling.

  Ganimard crossed the street, hands in his pockets, as if he were goingdown the boulevard, but when he reached the opposite sidewalk he turnedquickly and bounded up the steps of the restaurant. There was a shrillwhistle. Ganimard ran against the head waiter, who had suddenly plantedhimself in the doorway and now pushed Ganimard back with a show ofindignation, as if he were an intruder whose presence would bringdisgrace upon the restaurant. Ganimard was surprised. At the same momentthe gentleman in the frock coat came out. He took the part of thedetective and entered into an exciting argument with the waiter; both ofthem hung on to Ganimard, one pushing him in, the other pushing him outin such a manner that, despite all his efforts and despite his furiousprotestations, the unfortunate detective soon found himself on thesidewalk.

  The struggling men were surrounded by a crowd. Two policemen, attractedby the noise, tried to force their way through the crowd, butencountered a mysterious resistance and could make no headway throughthe opposing backs and pressing shoulders of the mob.

  But suddenly, as if by magic, the crowd parted and the passage to therestaurant was clear. The head waiter, recognizing his mistake, wasprofuse in his apologies; the gentleman in the frock coat ceased hisefforts on behalf of the detective, the crowd dispersed, the policemenpassed on, and Ganimard hastened to the table at which the six guestswere sitting. But now there were only five! He looked around.... Theonly exit was the door.

  "The person who was sitting here!" he cried to the five astonishedguests. "Where is he?"

  "Monsieur Destro?"

  "No; Arsene Lupin!"

  A waiter approached and said:

  "The gentleman went upstairs."

  Ganimard rushed up in the hope of finding him. The upper floor of therestaurant contained private dining-rooms and had a private stairwayleading to the boulevard.

  "No use looking for him now," muttered Ganimard. "He is far away by thistime."

  * * * * *

  He was not far away--two hundred yards at most--in theMadeleine-Bastille omnibus, which was rolling along very peacefully withits three horses across the Place de l'Opera toward the Boulevard desCapucines. Two sturdy fellows were talking together on the platform. Onthe roof of the omnibus near the stairs an old fellow was sleeping; itwas Herlock Sholmes.

  With bobbing head, rocked by the movement of the vehicle, the Englishmansaid to himself:

  "If Wilson could see me now, how proud he would be of hiscollaborator!... Bah! It was easy to foresee that the game was lost, assoon as the man whistled; nothing could be done but watch the exits andsee that our man did not escape. Really, Lupin makes life exciting andinteresting."

  At the terminal point Herlock Sholmes, by leaning over, saw Arsene Lupinleaving the omnibus, and as he passed in front of
the men who formed hisbodyguard Sholmes heard him say: "A l'Etoile."

  "A l'Etoile, exactly, a rendezvous. I shall be there," thought Sholmes."I will follow the two men."

  Lupin took an automobile; but the men walked the entire distance,followed by Sholmes. They stopped at a narrow house, No. 40 rueChalgrin, and rang the bell. Sholmes took his position in the shadow ofa doorway, whence he could watch the house in question. A man opened oneof the windows of the ground floor and closed the shutters. But theshutters did not reach to the top of the window. The impost was clear.

  At the end of ten minutes a gentleman rang at the same door and a fewminutes later another man came. A short time afterward an automobilestopped in front of the house, bringing two passengers: Arsene Lupin anda lady concealed beneath a large cloak and a thick veil.

  "The blonde Lady, no doubt," said Sholmes to himself, as the automobiledrove away.

  Herlock Sholmes now approached the house, climbed to the window-ledgeand, by standing on tiptoe, he was able to see through the window abovethe shutters. What did he see?

  Arsene Lupin, leaning against the mantel, was speaking with considerableanimation. The others were grouped around him, listening to himattentively. Amongst them Sholmes easily recognized the gentleman in thefrock coat and he thought one of the other men resembled the head-waiterof the restaurant. As to the blonde Lady, she was seated in an armchairwith her back to the window.

  "They are holding a consultation," thought Sholmes. "They are worriedover the incident at the restaurant and are holding a council of war.Ah! what a master stroke it would be to capture all of them at one fellstroke!"

  One of them, having moved toward the door, Sholmes leaped to the groundand concealed himself in the shadow. The gentleman in the frock coat andthe head-waiter left the house. A moment later a light appeared at thewindows of the first floor, but the shutters were closed immediately andthe upper part of the house was dark as well as the lower.

  "Lupin and the woman are on the ground floor; the two confederates liveon the upper floor," said Sholmes.

  Sholmes remained there the greater part of the night, fearing that if hewent away Arsene Lupin might leave during his absence. At four o'clock,seeing two policemen at the end of the street, he approached them,explained the situation and left them to watch the house. He went toGanimard's residence in the rue Pergolese and wakened him.

  "I have him yet," said Sholmes.

  "Arsene Lupin?"

  "Yes."

  "If you haven't got any better hold on him than you had a while ago, Imight as well go back to bed. But we may as well go to thestation-house."

  They went to the police station in the rue Mesnil and from there to theresidence of the commissary, Mon. Decointre. Then, accompanied by half adozen policemen, they went to the rue Chalgrin.

  "Anything new?" asked Sholmes, addressing the two policemen.

  "Nothing."

  It was just breaking day when, after taking necessary measures toprevent escape, the commissary rang the bell and commenced to questionthe concierge. The woman was greatly frightened at this early morninginvasion, and she trembled as she replied that there were no tenants onthe ground floor.

  "What! not a tenant?" exclaimed Ganimard.

  "No; but on the first floor there are two men named Leroux. They havefurnished the apartment on the ground floor for some country relations."

  "A gentleman and lady."

  "Yes."

  "Who came here last night."

  "Perhaps ... but I don't know ... I was asleep. But I don't think so,for the key is here. They did not ask for it."

  With that key the commissary opened the door of the ground-floorapartment. It comprised only two rooms and they were empty.

  "Impossible!" exclaimed Sholmes. "I saw both of them in this room."

  "I don't doubt your word," said the commissary; "but they are not herenow."

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

  "The first floor is occupied by two men named Leroux."

  "We will examine the Messieurs Leroux."

  They all ascended the stairs and the commissary rang. At the second ringa man opened the door; he was in his shirt-sleeves. Sholmes recognizedhim as one of Lupin's bodyguard. The man assumed a furious air:

  "What do you mean by making such a row at this hour of the morning ...waking people up...."

  But he stopped suddenly, astounded.

  "God forgive me!... really, gentlemen, I didn't notice who it was. Why,it is Monsieur Decointre!... and you, Monsieur Ganimard. What can I dofor you!"

  Ganimard burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, which caused himto bend double and turn black in the face.

  "Ah! it is you, Leroux," he stammered. "Oh! this is too funny! Leroux,an accomplice of Arsene Lupin! Oh, I shall die! and your brother,Leroux, where is he?"

  "Edmond!" called the man. "It is Ganimard, who has come to visit us."

  Another man appeared and at sight of him Ganimard's mirth redoubled.

  "Oh! oh! we had no idea of this! Ah! my friends, you are in a bad fixnow. Who would have ever suspected it?"

  Turning to Sholmes, Ganimard introduced the man:

  "Victor Leroux, a detective from our office, one of the best men in theiron brigade ... Edmond Leroux, chief clerk in the anthropometricservice."