The Blonde Lady

The Blonde Lady Page 7

by Maurice Leblanc

  SECOND EPISODE

  THE JEWISH LAMP

  CHAPTER I

  Holmlock Shears and Wilson were seated on either side of the fireplacein Shears's sitting-room. The great detective's pipe had gone out. Heknocked the ashes into the grate, re-filled his briar, lit it, gatheredthe skirts of his dressing-gown around his knees, puffed away anddevoted all his attention to sending rings of smoke curling gracefullyup to the ceiling.

  Wilson watched him. He watched him as a dog, rolled up on thehearth-rug, watches its master, with wide-open eyes and unblinking lids,eyes which have no other hope than to reflect the expected movement onthe master's part. Would Shears break silence? Would he reveal thesecret of his present dreams and admit Wilson to the realm of meditationinto which he felt that he was not allowed to enter uninvited?

  Shears continued silent.

  Wilson ventured upon a remark:

  "Things are very quiet. There's not a single case for us to nibble at."

  Shears was more and more fiercely silent; but the rings oftobacco-smoke became more and more successful and any one but Wilsonwould have observed that Shears obtained from this the profound contentwhich we derive from the minor achievements of our vanity, at times whenour brain is completely void of thought.

  Disheartened, Wilson rose and walked to the window. The melancholystreet lay stretched between the gloomy fronts of the houses, under adark sky whence fell an angry and pouring rain. A cab drove past;another cab. Wilson jotted down their numbers in his note-book. One cannever tell!

  The postman came down the street, gave a treble knock at the door; and,presently, the servant entered with two registered letters.

  "You look remarkably pleased," said Wilson, when Shears had unsealed andglanced through the first.

  "This letter contains a very attractive proposal. You were worryingabout a case: here is one. Read it."

  Wilson took the letter and read:

  "18, _Rue Murillo_, "PARIS.

  "Sir:

  "I am writing to ask for the benefit of your assistance and experience. I have been the victim of a serious theft and all the investigations attempted up to the present would seem to lead to nothing.

  "I am sending you by this post a number of newspapers which will give you all the details of the case; and, if you are inclined to take it up, I shall be pleased if you will accept the hospitality of my house and if you will fill in the enclosed signed check for any amount which you like to name for your expenses.

  "Pray, telegraph to inform me if I may expect you and believe me to be, sir,

  "Yours very truly, "BARON VICTOR D'IMBLEVALLE."

  "Well," said Shears, "this comes just at the right time: why shouldn't Itake a little run to Paris? I haven't been there since my famous duelwith Arsene Lupin and I shan't be sorry to re-visit it under rather morepeaceful conditions."

  He tore the cheque into four pieces and, while Wilson, whose arm had notyet recovered from the injury received in the course of the aforesaidencounter, was inveighing bitterly against Paris and all itsinhabitants, he opened the second envelope.

  A movement of irritation at once escaped him; he knitted his brow as heread the letter and, when he had finished, he crumpled it into a balland threw it angrily on the floor.

  "What's the matter?" exclaimed Wilson, in amazement.

  He picked up the ball, unfolded it and read, with ever-increasingstupefaction:

  "MY DEAR MAITRE:

  "You know my admiration for you and the interest which I take in your reputation. Well, accept my advice and have nothing to do with the case in which you are asked to assist. Your interference would do a great deal of harm, all your efforts would only bring about a pitiable result and you would be obliged publicly to acknowledge your defeat.

  "I am exceedingly anxious to spare you this humiliation and I beg you, in the name of our mutual friendship, to remain very quietly by your fireside.

  "Give my kind remembrances to Dr. Wilson and accept for yourself the respectful compliments of

  "Yours most sincerely, "ARSENE LUPIN."

  "Arsene Lupin!" repeated Wilson, in bewilderment.

  Shears banged the table with his fist:

  "Oh, I'm getting sick of the brute! He laughs at me as if I were aschoolboy! I am publicly to acknowledge my defeat, am I? Didn't I compelhim to give up the blue diamond?"

  "He's afraid of you," suggested Wilson.

  "You're talking nonsense! Arsene Lupin is never afraid; and the proof isthat he challenges me."

  "But how does he come to know of Baron d'Imblevalle's letter?"

  "How can I tell? You're asking silly questions, my dear fellow!"

  "I thought ... I imagined...."

  "What? That I am a sorcerer?"

  "No, but I have seen you perform such marvels!"

  "No one is able to perform marvels.... I no more than another. I makereflections, deductions, conclusions, but I don't make guesses. Onlyfools make guesses."

  Wilson adopted the modest attitude of a beaten dog and did his best,lest he should be a fool, not to guess why Shears was striding angrilyup and down the room. But, when Shears rang for the servant and askedfor his travelling-bag, Wilson thought himself entitled, since this wasa material fact, to reflect, deduce and conclude that his chief wasgoing on a journey.

  The same mental operation enabled him to declare, in the tone of a manwho has no fear of the possibility of a mistake:

  "Holmlock, you are going to Paris."

  "Possibly."

  "And you are going to Paris even more in reply to Lupin's challenge thanto oblige Baron d'Imblevalle."

  "Possibly."

  "Holmlock, I will go with you."

  "Aha, old friend!" cried Shears, interrupting his walk. "Aren't youafraid that your left arm may share the fate of the right?"

  "What can happen to me? You will be there."

  "Well said! You're a fine fellow! And we will show this gentleman thathe may have made a mistake in defying us so boldly. Quick, Wilson, andmeet me at the first train."

  "Won't you wait for the newspapers the baron mentions?"

  "What's the good?"

  "Shall I send a telegram?"

  "No. Arsene Lupin would know I was coming and I don't wish him to. Thistime, Wilson, we must play a cautious game."

  * * * * *

  That afternoon, the two friends stepped on board the boat at Dover. Theyhad a capital crossing. In the express from Calais to Paris, Shearsindulged in three hours of the soundest sleep, while Wilson kept a goodwatch at the door of the compartment and meditated with a wandering eye.

  Shears woke up feeling happy and well. The prospect of a new duel withArsene Lupin delighted him; and he rubbed his hands with the contentedair of a man preparing to taste untold joys.

  "At last," exclaimed Wilson, "we shall feel that we're alive!"

  And he rubbed his hands with the same contented air.

  At the station, Shears took the rugs, and, followed by Wilson carryingthe bags--each his burden!--handed the tickets to the collector andwalked gaily into the street.

  "A fine day, Wilson.... Sunshine!... Paris is dressed in her best toreceive us."

  "What a crowd!"

  "So much the better, Wilson: we stand less chance of being noticed. Noone will recognize us in the midst of such a multitude."

  "Mr. Shears, I believe?"

  He stopped, somewhat taken aback. Who on earth could be addressing himby name?

  A woman was walking beside him, or rather a girl whose exceedinglysimple dress accentuated her well-bred appearance. Her pretty face worea sad and anxious expression. She repeated:

  "You must be Mr. Shears, surely?"

  He was silent, as much from confusion as from the habit of prudence, andshe asked for the third time:

  "Surely I am speaking to Mr. Shears?"

  "What do you want with me
?" he asked, crossly, thinking this aquestionable meeting.

  She placed herself in front of him:

  "Listen to me, Mr. Shears: it is a very serious matter. I know that youare going to the Rue Murillo."

  "What's that?"

  "I know.... I know.... Rue Murillo.... No. 18. Well, you must not ...no, you must not go.... I assure you, you will regret it. Because I tellyou this, you need not think that I am interested in any way. I have areason; I know what I am saying."

  He tried to push her aside. She insisted:

  "I entreat you; do not be obstinate.... Oh, if I only knew how toconvince you! Look into me, look into the depths of my eyes ... they aresincere ... they speak the truth...."

  Desperately, she raised her eyes, a pair of beautiful, grave and limpideyes that seemed to reflect her very soul. Wilson nodded his head:

  "The young lady seems quite sincere," he said.

  "Indeed I am," she said beseechingly, "and you must trust me...."

  "I do trust you, mademoiselle," replied Wilson.

  "Oh, how happy you make me! And your friend trusts me too, does he not?I feel it.... I am sure of it! How glad I am! All will be well!... Oh,what a good idea I had! Listen, Mr. Shears: there's a train for Calaisin twenty minutes.... Now, you must take it.... Quick, come with me:it's this way and you have not much time."

  She tried to drag Shears with her. He seized her by the arm and, in avoice which he strove to make as gentle as possible, said: "Forgive me,mademoiselle, if I am not able to accede to your wish; but I never turnaside from a task which I have undertaken."

  "I entreat you.... I entreat you.... Oh, if you only knew!"

  He passed on and walked briskly away.

  Wilson lingered behind and said to the girl:

  "Be of good hope.... He will see the thing through to the end.... He hasnever yet been known to fail...."

  And he ran after Shears to catch him up.

  +---------------+ |HOLMLOCK SHEARS| | | | VERSUS | | | | ARSENE LUPIN | +---------------+

  These words, standing out in great black letters, struck their eyes atthe first steps they took. They walked up to them: a procession ofsandwich-men was moving along in single file. In their hands theycarried heavy ferruled canes, with which they tapped the pavement inunison as they went; and their boards bore the above legend in frontand a further huge poster at the back which read:

  +------------------------+ |THE SHEARS-LUPIN CONTEST| | | | ARRIVAL OF | | | | THE ENGLISH CHAMPION | | | | THE GREAT DETECTIVE | | | | GRAPPLES WITH | | | | THE RUE MURILLO MYSTERY| | | | FULL DETAILS | | | | ECHO DE FRANCE | +------------------------+

  Wilson tossed his head:

  "I say, Holmlock, I thought we were travelling incognito! I shouldn't beastonished to find the Republican Guard waiting for us in the RueMurillo, with an official reception and champagne!"

  "When you try to be witty, Wilson," snarled Shears, "you're witty enoughfor two!"

  He strode up to one of the men with apparent intention of taking him inhis powerful hands and tearing him and his advertisement to shreds.Meanwhile, a crowd gathered round the posters, laughing and joking.

  Suppressing a furious fit of passion, Shears said to the man:

  "When were you hired?"

  "This morning."

  "When did you start on your round?"

  "An hour ago."

  "But the posters were ready?"

  "Lord, yes! They were there when we came to the office this morning."

  So Arsene Lupin had foreseen that Shears would accept the battle! Nay,more, the letter written by Lupin proved that he himself wished for thebattle and that it formed part of his intentions to measure swords oncemore with his rival. Why? What possible motive could urge him tore-commence the contest?

  Holmlock Shears showed a momentary hesitation. Lupin must really feelvery sure of victory to display such insolence; and was it not fallinginto a trap to hasten like that in answer to the first call? Then,summoning up all his energy:

  "Come along, Wilson! Driver, 18, Rue Murillo!" he shouted.

  And, with swollen veins and fists clenched as though for a boxing-match,he leapt into a cab.

  * * * * *

  The Rue Murillo is lined with luxurious private residences, the backs ofwhich look out upon the Parc Monceau. No. 18 is one of the handsomestof these houses; and Baron d'Imblevalle, who occupies it with his wifeand children, has furnished it in the most sumptuous style, as befits anartist and millionaire. There is a courtyard in front of the house,skirted on either side by the servants' offices. At the back, a gardenmingles the branches of its trees with the trees of the park.

  The two Englishmen rang the bell, crossed the courtyard and wereadmitted by a footman, who showed them into a small drawing-room at theother side of the house.

  They sat down and took a rapid survey of the many valuable objects withwhich the room was filled.

  "Very pretty things," whispered Wilson. "Taste and fancy.... One cansafely draw the deduction that people who have had the leisure to huntout these articles are persons of a certain age ... fifty, perhaps...."

  He did not have time to finish. The door opened and M. d'Imblevalleentered, followed by his wife.

  Contrary to Wilson's deductions, they were both young, fashionablydressed and very lively in speech and manner. Both were profuse inthanks:

  "It is really too good of you! To put yourself out like this! We arealmost glad of this trouble since it procures us the pleasure...."

  "How charming those French people are!" thought Wilson, who nevershirked the opportunity of making an original observation.

  "But time is money," cried the baron. "And yours especially, Mr. Shears.Let us come to the point! What do you think of the case? Do you hope tobring it to a satisfactory result?"

  "To bring the case to a satisfactory result, I must first know what thecase is."

  "Don't you know?"

  "No; and I will ask you to explain the matter fully, omitting nothing.What is it a case of?"

  "It is a case of theft."

  "On what day did it take place?"

  "On Saturday," replied the baron. "On Saturday night or Sunday morning."

  "Six days ago, therefore. Now, pray, go on."

  "I must first tell you that my wife and I, though we lead the lifeexpected of people in our position, go out very little. The education ofour children, a few receptions, the beautifying of our home: these makeup our existence; and all or nearly all our evenings are spent here, inthis room, which is my wife's boudoir and in which we have collected afew pretty things. Well, on Saturday last, at about eleven o'clock, Iswitched off the electric light and my wife and I retired, as usual, toour bedroom."

  "Where is that?"

  "The next room: that door over there. On the following morning, that isto say, Sunday, I rose early. As Suzanne--my wife--was still asleep, Icame into this room as gently as possible, so as not to awake her.Imagine my surprise at finding the window open, after we had left itclosed the evening before!"

  "A servant...?"

  "Nobody enters this room in the morning before we ring. Besides, Ialways take the precaution of bolting that other door, which leads tothe hall. Therefore the window must have been opened from the outside. Ihad a proof of it, besides: the second pane of the right-hand casement,the one next to the latch, had been cut out."

  "And the window?"

  "The window, as you perceive, opens on a little balcony surrounded by astone balustrade. We are on the first floor here and you can see thegarden at the back of the house and the railings that separate it fromthe Parc Monceau. It is certain, therefore, that the man came from theParc Monceau, climbed the rai
lings by means of a ladder and got up tothe balcony."

  "It is certain, you say?"

  "On either side of the railings, in the soft earth of the borders, wefound holes left by the two uprights of the ladder; and there were twosimilar holes below the balcony. Lastly, the balustrade shows two slightscratches, evidently caused by the contact of the ladder."

  "Isn't the Parc Monceau closed at night?"

  "Closed? No. But, in any case, there is a house building at No. 14. Itwould have been easy to effect an entrance that way."

  Holmlock Shears reflected for a few moments and resumed:

  "Let us come to the theft. You say it was committed in the room where wenow are?"

  "Yes. Just here, between this twelfth-century Virgin and thatchased-silver tabernacle, there was a little Jewish lamp. It hasdisappeared."

  "And is that all?"

  "That is all."

  "Oh!... And what do you call a Jewish lamp?"

  "It is one of those lamps which they used to employ in the old days,consisting of a stem and of a receiver to contain the oil. This receiverhad two or more burners, which held the wicks."

  "When all is said, objects of no great value."

  "Just so. But the one in question formed a hiding-place in which we hadmade it a practice to keep a magnificent antique jewel, a chimera ingold, set with rubies and emeralds and worth a great deal of money."

  "What was your reason for this practice?"

  "Upon my word, Mr. Shears, I should find it difficult to tell you!Perhaps we just thought it amusing to have a hiding-place of this kind."

  "Did nobody know of it?"

  "Nobody."

  "Except, of course, the thief," objected Shears. "But for that, he wouldnot have taken the trouble to steal the Jewish lamp."

  "Obviously. But how could he know of it, seeing that it was by anaccident that we discovered the secret mechanism of the lamp?"

  "The same accident may have revealed it to somebody else: a servant ...a visitor to the house.... But let us continue: have you informed thepolice?"

  "Certainly. The examining-magistrate has made his inquiry. Thejournalistic detectives attached to all the big newspapers have madetheirs. But, as I wrote to you, it does not seem as though the problemhad the least chance of ever being solved."

  Shears rose, went to the window, inspected the casement, the balcony,the balustrade, employed his lens to study the two scratches on thestone and asked M. d'Imblevalle to take him down to the garden.

  When they were outside, Shears simply sat down in a wicker chair andcontemplated the roof of the house with a dreamy eye. Then he suddenlywalked toward two little wooden cases with which, in order to preservethe exact marks, they had covered the holes which the uprights of theladder had left in the ground, below the balcony. He removed the cases,went down on his knees and, with rounded back and his nose six inchesfrom the ground, searched and took his measurements. He went through thesame performance along the railing, but more quickly.

  That was all.

  * * * * *

  They both returned to the boudoir, where Madame d'Imblevalle was waitingfor them.

  Shears was silent for a few minutes longer and then spoke these words:

  "Ever since you began your story, monsieur le baron, I was struck by thereally too simple side of the offence. To apply a ladder, remove a paneof glass, pick out an object and go away: no, things don't happen soeasily as that. It is all too clear, too plain."

  "You mean to say...?"

  "I mean to say that the theft of the Jewish lamp was committed under thedirection of Arsene Lupin."

  "Arsene Lupin!" exclaimed the baron.

  "But it was committed without Arsene Lupin's presence and withoutanybody's entering the house.... Perhaps a servant slipped down to thebalcony from his garret, along a rain-spout which I saw from thegarden."

  "But what evidence have you?"

  "Arsene Lupin would not have left the boudoir empty-handed."

  "Empty-handed! And what about the lamp?"

  "Taking the lamp would not have prevented him from taking thissnuff-box, which, I see, is studded with diamonds, or this necklace ofold opals. It would require but two movements more. His only reason fornot making those movements was that he was not here to make them."

  "Still, the marks of the ladder?"

  "A farce! Mere stage-play to divert suspicions!"

  "The scratches on the balustrade?"

  "A sham! They were made with sandpaper. Look, here are a few bits ofpaper which I picked up."

  "The marks left by the uprights of the ladder?"

  "Humbug! Examine the two rectangular holes below the balcony and the twoholes near the railings. The shape is similar, but, whereas they areparallel here, they are not so over there. Measure the space thatseparates each hole from its neighbour: it differs in the two cases.Below the balcony, the distance is nine inches. Beside the railings, itis eleven inches."

  "What do you conclude from that?"

  "I conclude, since their outline is identical, that the four holes weremade with one stump of wood, cut to the right shape."

  "The best argument would be the stump of wood itself."

  "Here it is," said Shears. "I picked it up in the garden, behind alaurel-tub."

  * * * * *

  The baron gave in. It was only forty minutes since the Englishman hadentered by that door; and not a vestige remained of all that had beenbelieved so far on the evidence of the apparent facts themselves. Thereality, a different reality, came to light, founded upon somethingmuch more solid: the reasoning faculties of a Holmlock Shears.

  "It is a very serious accusation to bring against our people, Mr.Shears," said the baroness. "They are old family servants and not one ofthem is capable of deceiving us."

  "If one of them did not deceive you, how do you explain that this letterwas able to reach me on the same day and by the same post as the one yousent me?"

  And he handed her the letter which Arsene Lupin had written to him.

  Madame d'Imblevalle was dumbfounded:

  "Arsene Lupin!... How did he know?"

  "Did you tell no one of your letter?"

  "No one," said the baron. "The idea occurred to us the other evening, atdinner."

  "Before the servants?"

  "There were only our two children. And even then ... no, Sophie andHenrietta were not at table, were they Suzanne?"

  Madame d'Imblevalle reflected and declared:

  "No, they had gone up to mademoiselle."

  "Mademoiselle?" asked Shears.

  "The governess, Alice Demun."

  "Doesn't she have her meals with you?"

  "No, she has them by herself, in her room."

  Wilson had an idea:

  "The letter written to my friend Holmlock Shears was posted?"

  "Naturally."

  "Who posted it?"

  "Dominique, who has been with me as my own man for twenty years,"replied the baron. "Any search in that direction would be waste oftime."

  "Time employed in searching is never wasted," stated Wilson,sententiously.

  This closed the first inquiries and Shears asked leave to withdraw.

  An hour later, at dinner, he saw Sophie and Henrietta, thed'Imblevalles' children, two pretty little girls of eight and sixrespectively. The conversation languished. Shears replied to thepleasant remarks of the baron and his wife in so surly a tone that theythought it better to keep silence. Coffee was served. Shears swallowedthe contents of his cup and rose from his chair.

  At that moment, a servant entered with a telephone message for him.Shears opened it and read:

  "Accept my enthusiastic admiration. Results obtained by you in so short a time make my head reel. I feel quite giddy.

  "ARSENE LUPIN."

  He could not suppress a gesture of annoyance and, showing the telegramto the baron:

  "Do you begin to believe," he said, "that your walls ha
ve eyes andears?"

  "I can't understand it," murmured M. d'Imblevalle, astounded.

  "Nor I. But what I do understand is that not a movement takes place hereunperceived by him. Not a word is spoken but he hears it."

  * * * * *

  That evening, Wilson went to bed with the easy conscience of a man whohas done his duty and who has no other business before him than to go tosleep. So he went to sleep very quickly and was visited by beautifuldreams, in which he was hunting down Lupin all by himself and just onthe point of arresting him with his own hand; and the feeling of thepursuit was so lifelike that he woke up.

  Some one was touching his bed. He seized his revolver:

  "Another movement, Lupin, and I shoot!"

  "Steady, old chap, steady on!"

  "Hullo, is that you, Shears? Do you want me?"

  "I want your eyes. Get up...."

  He led him to the window:

  "Look over there ... beyond the railings...."

  "In the park?"

  "Yes. Do you see anything?"

  "No, nothing."

  "Try again; I am sure you see something."

  "Oh, so I do: a shadow ... no, two!"

  "I thought so: against the railings.... See, they're moving.... Let'slose no time."

  Groping and holding on to the banister, they made their way down thestairs and came to a room that opened on to the garden steps. Throughthe glass doors, they could see the two figures still in the same place.

  "It's curious," said Shears. "I seem to hear noises in the house."

  "In the house? Impossible! Everbody's asleep."

  "Listen, though...."

  At that moment, a faint whistle sounded from the railings and theyperceived an undecided light that seemed to come from the house.

  "The d'Imblevalles must have switched on their light," muttered Shears."It's their room above us."

  "Then it's they we heard, no doubt," said Wilson. "Perhaps they arewatching the railings."

  A second whistle, still fainter than the first.

  "I can't understand, I can't understand," said Shears, in a tone ofvexation.

  "No more can I," confessed Wilson.

  Shears turned the key of the door, unbolted it and softly pushed itopen.

  A third whistle, this time a little deeper and in a different note. And,above their heads, the noise grew louder, more hurried.

  "It sounds rather as if it were on the balcony of the boudoir,"whispered Shears.

  He put his head between the glass doors, but at once drew back with astifled oath. Wilson looked out in his turn. Close to them, a ladderrose against the wall, leaning against the balustrade of the balcony.

  "By Jove!" said Shears. "There's some one in the boudoir. That's what weheard. Quick, let's take away the ladder!"

  But, at that moment, a form slid from the top to the bottom, the ladderwas removed and the man who carried it ran swiftly toward the railings,to the place where his accomplices were waiting. Shears and Wilson haddarted out. They came up with the man as he was placing the ladderagainst the railings. Two shots rang out from the other side.

  "Wounded?" cried Shears.

  "No," replied Wilson.

  He caught the man around the body and tried to throw him. But the manturned, seized him with one hand and, with the other, plunged a knifefull into his chest. Wilson gave a sigh, staggered and fell.

  "Damnation!" roared Shears. "If they've done for him, I'll do for them!"

  He laid Wilson on the lawn and rushed at the ladder. Too late: the manhad run up it and, in company with his accomplices, was fleeing throughthe shrubs.

  "Wilson, Wilson, it's not serious, is it? Say it's only a scratch!"

  The doors of the house opened suddenly. M. d'Imblevalle was the first toappear, followed by the men-servants carrying candles.

  "What is it?" cried the baron. "Is Mr. Wilson hurt?"

  "Nothing; only a scratch," repeated Shears, endeavouring to deludehimself into the belief.

  Wilson was bleeding copiously and his face was deathly pale. Twentyminutes later, the doctor declared that the point of the knife hadpenetrated to within a quarter of an inch of the heart.

  "A quarter of an inch! That Wilson was always a lucky dog!" said Shears,summing up the situation, in an envious tone.

  "Lucky ... lucky...." grunted the doctor.

  "Why, with his strong constitution, he'll be all right...."

  "After six weeks in bed and two months' convalescence."

  "No longer?"

  "No, unless complications ensue."

  "Why on earth should there be any complications?"

  Fully reassured, Shears returned to M. d'Imblevalle in the boudoir. Thistime, the mysterious visitor had not shown the same discretion. He hadlaid hands without shame on the diamond-studded snuff-box, on the opalnecklace and, generally, on anything that could find room in the pocketsof a self-respecting burglar.

  The window was still open, one of the panes had been neatly cut out anda summary inquiry held at daybreak showed that the ladder came from theunfinished house and that the burglars must have come that way.

  "In short," said M. d'Imblevalle, with a touch of irony in his voice,"it is an exact repetition of the theft of the Jewish lamp."

  "Yes, if we accept the first version favoured by the police."

  "Do you still refuse to adopt it? Doesn't this second theft shake youropinion as regards the first?"

  "On the contrary, it confirms it."

  "It seems incredible! You have the undoubted proof that last night'sburglary was committed by somebody from the outside and you stillmaintain that the Jewish lamp was stolen by one of our people?"

  "By some one living in the house."

  "Then how do you explain...?"

  "I explain nothing, monsieur: I establish two facts, which resemble eachother only in appearance, I weigh them separately and I am trying tofind the link that connects them."

  His conviction seemed so profound, his actions based upon such powerfulmotives, that the baron gave way:

  "Very well. Let us go and inform the commissary of the police."

  "On no account!" exclaimed the Englishman, eagerly. "On no accountwhatever! The police are people whom I apply to only when I want them."

  "Still, the shots...?"

  "Never mind the shots!"

  "Your friend...."

  "My friend is only wounded.... Make the doctor hold his tongue.... Iwill take all the responsibility as regards the police."

  * * * * *

  Two days elapsed, devoid of all incident, during which Shears pursuedhis task with a minute care and a conscientiousness that was exasperatedby the memory of that daring onslaught, perpetrated under his eyes,despite his presence and without his being able to prevent its success.He searched the house and garden indefatigably, talked to the servantsand paid long visits to the kitchen and stables. And, though he gatheredno clue that threw any light upon the subject, he did not lose courage.

  "I shall find what I am looking for," he thought, "and I shall find ithere. It is not a question now, as in the case of the blonde lady, ofwalking at hap-hazard and of reaching, by roads unknown to me, anequally unknown goal. This time I am on the battlefield itself. Theenemy is no longer the invisible, elusive Lupin, but the flesh-and-bloodaccomplice who moves within the four walls of this house. Give me theleast little particular, and I know where I stand."

  This little particular, from which he was to derive such remarkableconsequences, with a skill so prodigious that the case of the JewishLamp may be looked upon as one in which his detective genius burstsforth most triumphantly, this little particular he was to obtain byaccident.

  * * * * *

  On the third day, entering the room above the boudoir, which was used asa schoolroom for the children, he came upon Henriette, the smaller ofthe two. She was looking for her scissors.

  "You know," she said to Shears,
"I make papers too, like the one you gotthe other evening."

  "The other evening?"

  "Yes, after dinner. You got a paper with strips on it ... you know, atelegram.... Well, I make them too."

  She went out. To any one else, these words would have represented onlythe insignificant observation of a child; and Shears himself listenedwithout paying much attention and continued his inspection. But,suddenly, he started running after the child, whose last phrase had allat once impressed him. He caught her at the top of the staircase andsaid:

  "So you stick strips on to paper also, do you?"

  Henriette, very proudly, declared:

  "Yes, I cut out the words and stick them on."

  "And who taught you that pretty game?"

  "Mademoiselle ... my governess.... I saw her do it. She takes words outof newspapers and sticks them on...."

  "And what does she do with them?"

  "Makes telegrams and letters which she sends off."

  Holmlock Shears returned to the schoolroom, singularly puzzled by thisconfidence and doing his utmost to extract from it the inferences ofwhich it allowed.

  There was a bundle of newspapers on the mantel-piece. He opened them andsaw, in fact, that there were groups of words or lines missing,regularly and neatly cut out. But he had only to read the words thatcame before or after to ascertain that the missing words had beenremoved with the scissors at random, evidently by Henriette. It waspossible that, in the pile of papers, there was one which mademoisellehad cut herself. But how was he to make sure?

  Mechanically, Shears turned the pages of the lesson-books heaped up onthe table and of some others lying on the shelves of a cupboard. Andsuddenly a cry of joy escaped him. In a corner of the cupboard, under apile of old exercise-books, he had found a children's album, a sort ofpicture alphabet, and, in one of the pages of this album, he had seen agap.

  He examined the page. It gave the names of the days of the week: Sunday,Monday, Tuesday, and so on. The word "Saturday" was missing. Now theJewish Lamp was stolen on a Saturday night.

  * * * * *

  Shears felt that little clutch at his heart which always told him, inthe plainest manner possible, when he had hit upon the knotty point of amystery. That grip of truth, that feeling of certainty never deceivedhim.

  He hastened to turn over the pages of the album, feverishly andconfidently. A little further on came another surprise.

  It was a page consisting of capital letters followed by a row offigures.

  Nine of the letters and three of the figures had been carefully removed.

  Shears wrote them down in his note-book, in the order which they wouldhave occupied, and obtained the following result:

  C D E H N O P R Z--237

  "By Jove!" he muttered. "There's not much to be made out of that, atfirst sight."

  Was it possible to rearrange these letters and, employing them all, toform one, two or three complete words?

  Shears attempted to do so in vain.

  One solution alone suggested itself, returned continually to the pointof his pencil and, in the end, appeared to him the right one, because itagreed with the logic of the facts and also corresponded with thegeneral circumstances.

  Admitting that the page in the album contained each of the letters ofthe alphabet once and once only, it was probable, it was certain that hehad to do with incomplete words and that these words had been completedwith letters taken from other pages. Given these conditions, andallowing for the possibility of a mistake, the puzzle stood thus:

  R E P O N D . Z--C H--237

  The first word was clear: "_Repondez_, reply." An E was missing, becausethe letter E, having been once used, was no longer available.

  As for the last, unfinished word, it undoubtedly formed, with the number237, the address which the sender gave to the receiver of the letter. Hewas advised to fix the day for Saturday and asked to send a reply to C H237.

  Either C H 237 was the official number of a _poste restante_ or else thetwo letters C H formed part of an incomplete word. Shears turned overthe leaves of the album: nothing had been cut from any of the followingpages. He must, therefore, until further orders, be content with theexplanation hit upon.

  * * * * *

  "Isn't it fun?"

  Henriette had returned.

  He replied:

  "Yes, great fun! Only, haven't you any other papers?... Or else somewords ready cut out, for me to stick on?"

  "Papers?... No.... And then mademoiselle wouldn't like it."

  "Mademoiselle?"

  "Yes, mademoiselle has scolded me already."

  "Why?"

  "Because I told you things ... and she says you must never tell thingsabout people you are fond of."

  "You were quite right to tell me."

  Henriette seemed delighted with his approval, so much so that, from atiny canvas bag pinned on to her frock, she took a few strips of stuff,three buttons, two lumps of sugar and, lastly, a square piece of paperwhich she held out to Shears:

  "There, I'll give it you all the same." It was the number of a cab, No.8279.

  "Where did you get this from?"

  "It fell out of her purse."

  "When?"

  "On Sunday, at mass, when she was taking out some coppers for thecollection."

  "Capital! And now I will tell you how not to get scolded. Don't tellmademoiselle that you have seen me."

  * * * * *

  Shears went off in search of M. d'Imblevalle and asked him straight outabout mademoiselle.

  The baron gave a start:

  "Alice Demun!... Would you think?... Oh, impossible!"

  "How long has she been in your service?"

  "Only twelve months, but I know no quieter person nor any in whom Iplace more confidence."

  "How is it that I have not yet seen her?"

  "She was away for two days."

  "And at present?"

  "Immediately on her return, she took up her position by your friend'sbedside. She is a first-rate nurse ... gentle ... attentive. Mr. Wilsonseems delighted with her."

  "Oh!" said Shears, who had quite omitted to inquire after old chap'sprogress.

  He thought for a moment and asked:

  "And did she go out on Sunday morning?"

  "The day after the robbery?"

  "Yes."

  The baron called his wife and put the question to her. She replied:

  "Mademoiselle took the children to the eleven o'clock mass, as usual."

  "But before that?"

  "Before? No.... Or rather.... But I was so upset by the theft!... Still,I remember that, on the evening before, she asked leave to go out onSunday morning ... to see a cousin who was passing through Paris, Ithink. But surely you don't suspect her?"

  "Certainly not. But I should like to see her."

  He went up to Wilson's room. A woman dressed like a hospital nurse, in along gray linen gown, was stooping over the sick man and giving him adraught. When she turned round, Shears recognized the girl who hadspoken to him outside the Gare du Nord.

  * * * * *

  Not the slightest explanation passed between them. Alice Demun smiledgently, with her grave and charming eyes, without a trace ofembarrassment. The Englishman wanted to speak, tried to utter a syllableor two and was silent. Then she resumed her task, moved aboutpeacefully before Shears's astonished eyes, shifted bottles, rolled andunrolled linen bandages and again gave him her bright smile.

  Shears turned on his heels, went downstairs, saw M. d'Imblevalle's motorin the courtyard, got into it and told the chauffeur to drive him to theyard at Levallois of which the address was marked on the cab-ticketgiven him by the child. Dupret, the driver who had taken out No. 8279 onSunday morning, was not there and Shears sent back the motor-car andwaited until he came to change horses.

  Dupret the driver said yes, he had taken up a lady near the ParcMoncea
u, a young lady in black, with a big veil on her: she seemed veryexcited.

  "Was she carrying a parcel?"

  "Yes, a longish parcel."

  "And where did you drive her to?"

  "Avenue des Ternes, at the corner of the Place Saint-Ferdinand. Shestayed for ten minutes or so; and then we went back to the ParcMonceau."

  "Would you know the house again, in the Avenue des Ternes?"

  "Rather! Shall I take you there?"

  "Presently. Go first to 36, Quai des Orfevres."

  At the police headquarters he had the good fortune to come uponChief-Inspector Ganimard:

  "Are you disengaged, M. Ganimard?"

  "If it's about Lupin, no."

  "It is about Lupin."

  "Then I shan't stir."

  "What! You give up...!"

  "I give up the impossible. I am tired of this unequal contest of whichwe are certain to have the worst. It's cowardly, it's ridiculous, it'sanything you please.... I don't care! Lupin is stronger than we are.Consequently, there's nothing to do but give in."

  "I'm not giving in!"

  "He'll make you give in like the rest of us."

  "Well, it's a sight that can't fail to please you."

  "That's true enough," said Ganimard, innocently. "And, as you seem towant another beating, come along!"

  Ganimard and Shears stepped into the cab. They told the driver to stop alittle way before he came to the house and on the other side of theavenue, in front of a small cafe. They sat down outside it, among tubsof laurels and spindle-trees. The light was beginning to wane.

  "Waiter!" said Shears. "Pen and ink!"

  He wrote a note and, calling the waiter again, said:

  "Take this to the concierge of the house opposite. It's the man in thecap smoking his pipe in the gateway."

  The concierge hurried across and, after Ganimard had announced himselfas a chief-inspector, Shears asked if a young lady in black had calledat the house on Sunday morning.

  "In black? Yes, about nine o'clock: it's the one who goes up to thesecond floor."

  "Do you see much of her?"

  "No, but she's been oftener lately: almost every day during the pastfortnight."

  "And since Sunday?"

  "Only once ... without counting to-day."

  "What! Has she been to-day?"

  "She's there now."

  "She's there now?"

  "Yes, she came about ten minutes ago. Her cab is waiting on the PlaceSaint-Ferdinand, as usual. I passed her in the gateway."

  "And who is the tenant of the second floor?"

  "There are two: a dressmaker, Mademoiselle Langeais, and a gentleman whohired a couple of furnished rooms, a month ago, under the name ofBresson."

  "What makes you say 'under the name'?"

  "I have an idea that it's an assumed name. My wife does his rooms: well,he hasn't two articles of clothing marked with the same initials."

  "How does he live?"

  "Oh, he's almost always out. Sometimes, he does not come home for threedays together."

  "Did he come in on Saturday night?"

  "On Saturday night?... Wait, while I think.... Yes, he came in onSaturday night and hasn't stirred out since."

  "And what sort of a man is he?"

  "Faith, I couldn't say. He changes so! He's tall, he's short, he's fat,he's thin ... dark and fair. I don't always recognize him."

  Ganimard and Shears exchanged glances.

  "It's he," muttered Ganimard. "It must be he."

  For a moment, the old detective experienced a real agitation, whichbetrayed itself by a deep breath and a clenching of the fists.

  Shears too, although more master of himself, felt something clutching athis heart.

  "Look out!" said the concierge. "Here comes the young lady."

  As he spoke, mademoiselle appeared in the gateway and crossed thesquare.

  "And here is M. Bresson."

  "M. Bresson? Which is he?"

  "The gentleman with a parcel under his arm."

  "But he's taking no notice of the girl. She is going to her cab alone."

  "Oh, well, I've never seen them together."

  The two detectives rose hurriedly. By the light of the street-lamps,they recognized Lupin's figure, as he walked away in the oppositedirection to the square.

  "Which will you follow?" asked Ganimard.

  "'Him,' of course. He's big game."

  "Then I'll shadow the young lady," suggested Ganimard.

  "No, no," said the Englishman quickly, not wishing to reveal any part ofthe case to Ganimard. "I know where to find the young lady when I wanther.... Don't leave me."

  * * * * *

  At a distance and availing themselves of the occasional shelter of thepassers-by and the kiosks, Ganimard and Shears set off in pursuit ofLupin. It was an easy enough pursuit, for he did not turn round andwalked quickly, with a slight lameness in the right leg, so slight thatit needed the eye of a trained observer to perceive it.

  "He's pretending to limp!" said Ganimard. And he continued, "Ah, if wecould only pick up two or three policemen and pounce upon the fellow! Asit is, here's a chance of our losing him."

  But no policeman appeared in sight before the Porte des Ternes; and,once the fortifications were passed, they could not reckon on the leastassistance.

  "Let us separate," said Shears. "The place is deserted."

  They were on the Boulevard Victor-Hugo. They each took a differentpavement and followed the line of the trees.

  They walked like this for twenty minutes, until the moment when Lupinturned to the left and along the Seine. Here they saw him go down to theedge of the river. He remained there for a few seconds, during whichthey were unable to distinguish his movements. Then he climbed up thebank again and returned by the way he had come. They pressed backagainst the pillars of a gate. Lupin passed in front of them. He nolonger carried a parcel.

  And, as he moved away, another figure appeared from behind the corner ofa house and slipped in between the trees.

  Shears said, in a low voice:

  "That one seems to be following him too."

  "Yes, I believe I saw him before, as we came."

  The pursuit was resumed, but was now complicated by the presence of thisfigure. Lupin followed the same road, passed through the Porte desTernes again, and entered the house on the Place Saint-Ferdinand.

  The concierge was closing the door for the night when Ganimard came up:

  "You saw him, I suppose?"

  "Yes, I was turning off the gas on the stairs. He has bolted his door."

  "Is there no one with him?"

  "No one: he doesn't keep a servant ... he never has his meals here."

  "Is there no back staircase?"

  "No."

  Ganimard said to Shears:

  "The best thing will be for me to place myself outside Lupin's door,while you go to the Rue Demours and fetch the commissary of police. I'llgive you a line for him."

  Shears objected:

  "Suppose he escapes meanwhile?"

  "But I shall be here!..."

  "Single-handed, it would be an unequal contest between you and him."

  "Still, I can't break into his rooms. I'm not entitled to, especially atnight."

  Shears shrugged his shoulders:

  "Once you've arrested Lupin, no one will haul you over the coals for theparticular manner in which you effected the arrest. Besides, we may aswell ring the bell, what! Then we'll see what happens."

  They went up the stairs. There was a double door on the left of thelanding. Ganimard rang the bell.

  Not a sound. He rang again. No one stirred.

  "Let's go in," muttered Shears.

  "Yes, come along."

  Nevertheless, they remained motionless, irresolute. Like people whohesitate before taking a decisive step, they were afraid to act; and itsuddenly seemed to them impossible that Arsene Lupin should be there, sonear to them, behind that frail partition, which they
could smash with ablow of their fists. They both of them knew him too well, demon that hewas, to admit that he would allow himself to be nabbed so stupidly. No,no, a thousand times no; he was not there. He must have escaped, by theadjoining houses, by the roofs, by some suitably prepared outlet; and,once again, the shadow of Arsene Lupin was all that they could hope tolay hands upon.

  They shuddered. An imperceptible sound, coming from the other side ofthe door, had, as it were, grazed the silence. And they received theimpression, the certainty that he was there after all, separated fromthem by that thin wooden partition, and that he was listening to them,that he heard them.

  What were they to do? It was a tragic situation. For all their coolnessas old stagers of the police, they were overcome by so great anexcitement that they imagined they could hear the beating of their ownhearts.

  Ganimard consulted Shears with a silent glance and then struck the doorviolently with his fist.

  A sound of footsteps was now heard, a sound which there was no longerany attempt to conceal.

  Ganimard shook the door. Shears gave an irresistible thrust with hisshoulder and burst it open; and they both rushed in.

  Then they stopped short. A shot resounded in the next room. And another,followed by the thud of a falling body.

  When they entered, they saw the man lying with his face against themarble of the mantel-piece. He gave a convulsive movement. His revolverslipped from his hand.

  Ganimard stooped and turned the dead man's head, it was covered withblood, which trickled from two large wounds in the cheek and temple.

  "There's no recognizing him," he whispered.

  "One thing is certain," said Shears. "It's not 'he.'"

  "How do you know? You haven't even examined him."

  The Englishman sneered:

  "Do you think Arsene Lupin is the man to kill himself?"

  "Still, we believed we knew him outside."

  "We believed, because we _wanted_ to believe. The fellow besets ourminds."

  "Then it's one of his accomplices."

  "Arsene Lupin's accomplices do not kill themselves."

  "Then who is it?"

  They searched the body. In one pocket, Holmlock Shears found an emptynote-case; in another, Ganimard found a few louis. There were no markson his linen or on his clothes.

  The trunks--a big box and two bags--contained nothing but personaleffects. There was a bundle of newspapers on the mantel-piece. Ganimardopened them. They all spoke of the theft of the Jewish lamp.

  An hour later, when Ganimard and Shears left the house, they knew nomore about the strange individual whom their intervention had driven tosuicide.

  Who was he? Why had he taken his life? What link connected him with thedisappearance of the Jewish lamp? Who was it that dogged his stepsduring his walk? These were all complicated questions ... so manymysteries.

  * * * * *

  Holmlock Shears went to bed in a very bad temper. When he woke, hereceived an express letter couched in these words:

  "Arsene Lupin begs to inform you of his tragic decease in the person of one Bresson and requests the honour of your company at his funeral, which will take place, at the public expense, on Thursday, the 25th of June."

  CHAPTER II

  "You see, old chap," said Holmlock Shears to Wilson, waving ArseneLupin's letter in his hand, "the worst of this business is that I feelthe confounded fellow's eye constantly fixed upon me. Not one of my mostsecret thoughts escape him. I am behaving like an actor, whose steps areruled by the strictest stage-directions, who moves here or there andsays this or that because a superior will has so determined it. Do youunderstand, Wilson?"

  Wilson would no doubt have understood had he not been sleeping the soundsleep of a man whose temperature is fluctuating between 102 and 104degrees. But whether he heard or not made no difference to Shears, whocontinued:

  "It will need all my energy and all my resources not to be discouraged.Fortunately, with me, these little gibes are only so many pin-prickswhich stimulate me to further exertions. Once the sting is allayed andthe wound in my self-respect closed, I always end by saying: 'Laughaway, my lad. Sooner or later, you will be betrayed by your own hand.'For, when all is said, Wilson, wasn't it Lupin himself who, with hisfirst telegram and the reflection which it suggested to that littleHenriette, revealed to me the secret of his correspondence with AliceDemun? You forget that detail, old chap."

  He walked up and down the room, with resounding strides, at the risk ofwaking old chap:

  "However, things might be worse; and, though the paths which I amfollowing appear a little dark, I am beginning to see my way. To startwith, I shall soon know all about Master Bresson. Ganimard and I have anappointment on the bank of the Seine, at the spot where Bresson flunghis parcel, and we shall find out who he was and what he wanted. Asregards the rest, it's a game to be played out between Alice Demun andme. Not a very powerful adversary, eh, Wilson? And don't you think Ishall soon know the sentence in the album and what those two singleletters mean, the C and the H? For the whole mystery lies in that,Wilson."

  At this moment, mademoiselle entered the room and, seeing Shears wavehis arms about, said: "Mr. Shears, I shall be very angry with you ifyou wake my patient. It's not nice of you to disturb him. The doctorinsists upon absolute calm."

  He looked at her without a word, astonished, as on the first day, at herinexplicable composure.

  "Why do you look at me like that, Mr. Shears?... You always seem to havesomething at the back of your mind.... What is it? Tell me, please."

  She questioned him with all her bright face, with her guileless eyes,her smiling lips and with her attitude too, her hands joined together,her body bent slightly forward. And so great was her candour that itroused the Englishman's anger. He came up to her and said, in a lowvoice:

  "Bresson committed suicide yesterday."

  She repeated, without appearing to understand:

  "Bresson committed suicide yesterday?"

  As a matter of fact, her features underwent no change whatever; nothingrevealed the effort of a lie.

  "You have been told," he said, irritably. "If not, you would at leasthave started.... Ah, you are cleverer than I thought! But why pretend?"

  He took the picture-book, which he had placed on a table close at hand,and, opening it at the cut page:

  "Can you tell me," he asked, "in what order I am to arrange the lettersmissing here, so that I may understand the exact purport of the notewhich you sent to Bresson four days before the theft of the JewishLamp?"

  "In what order?... Bresson?... The theft of the Jewish Lamp?"

  She repeated the words, slowly, as though to make out their meaning.

  He insisted:

  "Yes, here are the letters you used ... on this scrap of paper. Whatwere you saying to Bresson?"

  "The letters I used...? What was I saying to...?"

  Suddenly she burst out laughing:

  "I see! I understand! I am an accomplice in the theft! There is aM. Bresson who stole the Jewish Lamp and killed himself. And I am thegentleman's friend! Oh, how amusing!"

  "Then whom did you go to see yesterday evening, on the second floor of ahouse in the Avenue des Ternes?"

  "Whom? Why, my dressmaker, Mlle. Langeais! Do you mean to imply that mydressmaker and my friend M. Bresson are one and the same person?"

  Shears began to doubt, in spite of all. It is possible to counterfeitalmost any feeling in such a way as to put another person off: terror,joy, anxiety; but not indifference, not happy and careless laughter.

  However, he said:

  "One last word. Why did you accost me at the Gare du Nord the otherevening? And why did you beg me to go back at once without busyingmyself about the robbery?"

  "Oh, you're much too curious, Mr. Shears," she replied, still laughingin the most natural way. "To punish you, I will tell you nothing and, inaddition, you shall watch the patient while I go to the chemist....There's an urgent prescripti
on to be made up.... I must hurry!"

  She left the room.

  "I have been tricked," muttered Shears. "I've not only got nothing outof her, but I have given myself away."

  And he remembered the case of the blue diamond and the cross-examinationto which he had subjected Clotilde Destange. Mademoiselle hadencountered him with the same serenity as the blonde lady and he feltthat he was again face to face with one of those creatures who,protected by Arsene Lupin and under the direct action of his influence,preserved the most inscrutable calmness amid the very agony of danger.

  "Shears.... Shears...."

  It was Wilson calling him. He went to the bed and bent over him:

  "What is it, old chap? Feeling bad?"

  Wilson moved his lips, but was unable to speak. At last, after manyefforts, he stammered out:

  "No ... Shears ... it wasn't she ... it can't have been...."

  "What nonsense are you talking now? I tell you that it was she! It'sonly when I'm in the presence of a creature of Lupin's, trained anddrilled by him, that I lose my head and behave so foolishly.... She nowknows the whole story of the album.... I bet you that Lupin will be toldin less than an hour. Less than an hour? What am I talking about? Thismoment, most likely! The chemist, the urgent prescription: humbug!"

  Without a further thought of Wilson, he rushed from the room, went downthe Avenue de Messine and saw Mademoiselle enter a chemist's shop. Shecame out, ten minutes later, carrying two or three medicine-bottleswrapped up in white paper. But, when she returned up the avenue, she wasaccosted by a man who followed her, cap in hand and with an obsequiousair, as though he were begging.

  She stopped, gave him an alms and then continued on her way.

  "She spoke to him," said the Englishman to himself.

  It was an intuition rather than a certainty, but strong enough to inducehim to alter his tactics. Leaving the girl, he set off on the track ofthe sham beggar.

  They arrived in this way, one behind the other, on the PlaceSaint-Ferdinand; and the man hovered long round Bresson's house,sometimes raising his eyes to the second-floor windows and watching thepeople who entered the house.

  At the end of an hour's time, he climbed to the top of a tram-car thatwas starting for Neuilly. Shears climbed up also and sat down behind thefellow, at some little distance, beside a gentleman whose features wereconcealed by the newspaper which he was reading. When they reached thefortifications, the newspaper was lowered, Shears recognized Ganimardand Ganimard, pointing to the fellow, said in his ear:

  "It's our man of last night, the one who followed Bresson. He's beenhanging round the square for an hour."

  "Nothing new about Bresson?"

  "Yes, a letter arrived this morning addressed to him."

  "This morning? Then it must have been posted yesterday, before thewriter knew of Bresson's death."

  "Just so. It is with the examining magistrate, but I can tell you theexact words: 'He accepts no compromise. He wants everything, the firstthing as well as those of the second business. If not, he will takesteps.' And no signature," added Ganimard. "As you can see, those fewlines won't be of much use to us."

  "I don't agree with you at all, M. Ganimard: on the contrary, I considerthem very interesting."

  "And why, bless my soul?"

  "For reasons personal to myself," said Shears, with the absence ofceremony with which he was accustomed to treat his colleague.

  The tram stopped at the terminus in the Rue du Chateau. The man climbeddown and walked away quietly. Shears followed so closely on his heelsthat Ganimard took alarm:

  "If he turns round, we are done."

  "He won't turn round now."

  "What do you know about it?"

  "He is an accomplice of Arsene Lupin's and the fact that an accompliceof Lupin's walks away like that, with his hands in his pockets, proves,in the first place, that he knows he's followed, and in the second, thathe's not afraid."

  "Still, we're running him pretty hard!"

  "No matter, he can slip through our fingers in a minute, if he wants.He's too sure of himself."

  "Come, come; you're getting at me! There are two cyclist police at thedoor of that cafe over there. If I decide to call on them and to tackleour friend, I should like to know how he's going to slip through ourfingers."

  "Our friend does not seem much put out by that contingency. And he'scalling on them himself!"

  "By Jupiter!" said Ganimard. "The cheek of the fellow!"

  The man, in fact, had walked up to the two policemen just as these werepreparing to mount their bicycles. He spoke a few words to them andthen, suddenly, sprang upon a third bicycle, which was leaning againstthe wall of the cafe, and rode away quickly with the two policemen.

  The Englishman burst with laughter:

  "There, what did I tell you? Off before we knew where we were; and withtwo of your colleagues, M. Ganimard! Ah, he looks after himself, doesArsene Lupin! With cyclist policemen in his pay! Didn't I tell you ourfriend was a great deal too calm!"

  "What then?" cried Ganimard, angrily. "What could I do? It's very easyto laugh!"

  "Come, come, don't be cross. We'll have our revenge. For the moment,what we want is reinforcements."

  "Folenfant is waiting for me at the end of the Avenue de Neuilly."

  "All right, pick him up and join me, both of you."

  Ganimard went away, while Shears followed the tracks of the bicycles,which were easily visible on the dust of the road because two of themachines were fitted with grooved tires. And he soon saw that thesetracks were leading him to the bank of the Seine and that the three menhad turned in the same direction as Bresson on the previous evening. Hethus came to the gate against which he himself had hidden with Ganimardand, a little farther on, he saw a tangle of grooved lines which showedthat they had stopped there. Just opposite, a little neck of land juttedinto the river and, at the end of it, an old boat lay fastened.

  This was where Bresson must have flung his parcel, or, rather, droppedit. Shears went down the incline and saw that, as the bank sloped verygently, and the water was low, he would easily find the parcel ...unless the three men had been there first.

  "No, no," he said to himself, "they have not had time ... a quarter ofan hour at most..... And, yet, why did they come this way?"

  A man was sitting in the boat, fishing. Shears asked him:

  "Have you seen three men on bicycles?"

  The angler shook his head.

  The Englishman insisted:

  "Yes, yes.... Three men.... They stopped only a few yards from where youare."

  The angler put his rod under his arm, took a note-book from his pocket,wrote something on one of the pages, tore it out and handed it toShears.

  A great thrill shook the Englishman. At a glance, in the middle of thepage which he held in his hand, he recognized the letters torn from thepicture-book:

  C D E H N O P R Z E O--237

  * * * * *

  The sun hung heavily over the river. The angler had resumed his work,sheltered under the huge brim of his straw hat; his jacket and waistcoatlay folded by his side. He fished attentively, while the float of hisline rocked idly on the current.

  Quite a minute elapsed, a minute of solemn and awful silence.

  "Is it he?" thought Shears, with an almost painful anxiety.

  And then the truth burst upon him:

  "It is he! It is he! He alone is capable of sitting like that, without atremor of uneasiness, without the least fear as to what will happen....And who else could know the story of the picture-book? Alice must havetold him by her messenger."

  Suddenly, the Englishman felt that his hand, that his own hand, hadseized the butt-end of his revolver and that his eyes were fixed on theman's back, just below the neck. One movement and the whole play wasfinished; a touch of the trigger and the life of the strange adventurerhad come to a miserable end.

  The angler did not stir.

  Shears nervously gripped his weapo
n with a fierce longing to fire andhave done with it and, at the same time, with horror of a deed againstwhich his nature revolted. Death was certain. It would be over.

  "Oh," he thought, "let him get up, let him defend himself.... If not, hewill have only himself to blame.... Another second ... and I fire."

  But a sound of footsteps made him turn his head and he saw Ganimardarrive, accompanied by the inspectors.

  Then, changing his idea, he leapt forward, sprang at one bound into theboat, breaking the painter with the force of the jump, fell upon the manand held him in a close embrace. They both rolled to the bottom of theboat.

  "Well?" cried Lupin, struggling. "And then? What does this prove?Suppose one of us reduces the other to impotence: what will he havegained? You will not know what to do with me nor I with you. We shallstay here like a couple of fools!"

  The two oars slipped into the water. The boat began to drift. Mingledexclamations resounded along the bank and Lupin continued:

  "Lord, what a business! Have you lost all sense of things?... Fancybeing so silly at your age! You great schoolboy! You ought to beashamed!"

  He succeeded in releasing himself.

  Exasperated, resolved to stick at nothing, Shears put his hand in hispocket. An oath escaped him. Lupin had taken his revolver.

  Then he threw himself on his knees and tried to catch hold of one of theoars, in order to pull to the shore, while Lupin made desperate effortsafter the other, in order to pull out to mid-stream.

  "Got it!... Missed it!" said Lupin. "However, it makes no difference....If you get your oar, I'll prevent your using it.... And you'll do asmuch for me.... But there, in life, we strive to act ... without theleast reason, for it's always fate that decides.... There, you see, fate... well, she's deciding for her old friend Lupin!... Victory! Thecurrent's favouring me!"

  The boat, in fact, was drifting away.

  "Look out!" cried Lupin.

  Some one, on the bank, pointed a revolver. Lupin ducked his head; ashot rang out; a little water spurted up around them. He burst outlaughing:

  "Heaven help us, it's friend Ganimard!... Now that's very wrong of you,Ganimard. You have no right to fire except in self-defence.... Does poorArsene make you so furious that you forget your duties?... Hullo, he'sstarting again!... But, wretched man, be careful: you'll hit my dearmaitre here!"

  He made a bulwark of his body for Shears and, standing up in the boat,facing Ganimard:

  "There, now I don't mind!... Aim here, Ganimard, straight at myheart!... Higher ... to the left.... Missed again ... you clumsybeggar!... Another shot?... But you're trembling, Ganimard!... At theword of command, eh? And steady now ... one, two, three, fire!...Missed! Dash it all, does the Government give you toys for pistols?"

  He produced a long, massive, flat revolver and fired without taking aim.

  The inspector lifted his hand to his hat: a bullet had made a holethrough it.

  "What do you say to that, Ganimard? Ah, this is a better make! Hats off,gentlemen: this is the revolver of my noble friend, Maitre HolmlockShears!"

  And he tossed the weapon to the bank, right at the inspector's feet.

  Shears could not help giving a smile of admiration. What superabundantlife! What young and spontaneous gladness! And how he seemed to enjoyhimself! It was as though the sense of danger gave him a physicaldelight, as though life had no other object for this extraordinary manthan the search of dangers which he amused himself afterward byaverting.

  Meantime, crowds had gathered on either side of the river and Ganimardand his men were following the craft, which swung down the stream,carried very slowly by the current. It meant inevitable, mathematicalcapture.

  "Confess, maitre," cried Lupin, turning to the Englishman, "that youwould not give up your seat for all the gold in the Transvaal! You arein the first row of the stalls! But, first and before all, the prologue... after which we will skip straight to the fifth act, the capture orthe escape of Arsene Lupin. Therefore, my dear maitre, I have onerequest to make of you and I beg you to answer yes or no, to save allambiguity. Cease interesting yourself in this business. There is yettime and I am still able to repair the harm which you have done. Lateron, I shall not be. Do you agree?"

  "No."

  Lupin's features contracted. This obstinacy was causing him visibleannoyance. He resumed:

  "I insist. I insist even more for your sake than my own, for I amcertain that you will be the first to regret your interference. Oncemore, yes or no?"

  "No."

  Lupin squatted on his heels, shifted one of the planks at the bottom ofthe boat and, for a few minutes, worked at something which Shears couldnot see. Then he rose, sat down beside the Englishman and spoke to himin these words:

  "I believe, maitre, that you and I came to the river-bank with the samepurpose, that of fishing up the object which Bresson got rid of, did wenot? I, for my part, had made an appointment to meet a few friends and Iwas on the point, as my scanty costume shows, of effecting a littleexploration in the depths of the Seine when my friends gave me notice ofyour approach. I am bound to confess that I was not surprised, havingbeen kept informed, I venture to say, hourly, of the progress of yourinquiry. It is so easy! As soon as the least thing likely to interest meoccurs in the Rue Murillo, quick, they ring me up and I know all aboutit! You can understand that, in these conditions...."

  He stopped. The plank which he had removed now rose a trifle and waterwas filtering in, all around, in driblets.

  "The deuce! I don't know how I managed it, but I have every reason tothink that there's a leak in this old boat. You're not afraid, maitre?"

  Shears shrugged his shoulders. Lupin continued:

  "You can understand, therefore, that, in these conditions and knowingbeforehand that you would seek the contest all the more greedily themore I strove to avoid it, I was rather pleased at the idea of playing arubber with you the result of which is certain, seeing that I hold allthe trumps. And I wished to give our meeting the greatest possiblepublicity, so that your defeat might be universally known and no newComtesse de Crozon nor Baron d'Imblevalle be tempted to solicit your aidagainst me. And, in all this, my dear maitre, you must not see ..."

  He interrupted himself again, and, using his half-closed hands as afield-glass, he watched the banks:

  "By Jove! They've freighted a splendid cutter, a regular man-of-war'sboat, and they're rowing like anything! In five minutes they will boardus and I shall be lost. Mr. Shears, let me give you one piece of advice:throw yourself upon me, tie me hand and foot and deliver me to the lawof my country.... Does that suit you?... Unless we suffer shipwreckmeanwhile, in which case there will be nothing for us to do but make ourwills. What do you say?"

  Their eyes met. This time, Shears understood Lupin's operations: he hadmade a hole in the bottom of the boat.

  And the water was rising. It reached the soles of their boots. Itcovered their feet; they did not move.

  It came above their ankles: the Englishman took his tobacco-pouch,rolled a cigarette and lit it.

  Lupin continued:

  "And, in all this, my dear maitre, you must not see anything more thanthe humble confession of my powerlessness in face of you. It istantamount to yielding to you, when I accept only those contests inwhich my victory is assured, in order to avoid those of which I shallnot have selected the field. It is tantamount to recognizing thatHolmlock Shears is the only enemy whom I fear and proclaiming my anxietyas long as Shears is not removed from my path. This, my dear maitre, iswhat I wished to tell you, on this one occasion when fate has allowed methe honour of a conversation with you. I regret only one thing, which isthat this conversation should take place while we are having a foot-bath... a position lacking in dignity, I must confess.... And what was Isaying?... A foot-bath!... A hip-bath rather!"

  The water, in fact, had reached the seat on which they were sitting andthe boat sank lower and lower in the water.

  Shears sat imperturbable, his cigarette at his lips, apparently wrappedin cont
emplation of the sky. For nothing in the world, in the face ofthat man surrounded by dangers, hemmed in by the crowd, hunted down by aposse of police and yet always retaining his good humour, for nothing inthe world would he have consented to display the least sign ofagitation.

  "What!" they both seemed to be saying. "Do people get excited about suchtrifles? Is it not a daily occurrence to get drowned in a river? Isthis the sort of event that deserves to be noticed?"

  And the one chattered and the other mused, while both concealed underthe same mask of indifference the formidable clash of their respectiveprides.

  Another minute and they would sink.

  "The essential thing," said Lupin, "is to know if we shall sink beforeor after the arrival of the champions of the law! All depends upon that.For the question of shipwreck is no longer in doubt. Maitre, the solemnmoment has come to make our wills. I leave all my real and personalestate to Holmlock Shears, a citizen of the British Empire.... But, byJove, how fast they are coming, those champions of the law! Oh, the dearpeople! It's a pleasure to watch them! What precision of stroke! Ah, isthat you, Sergeant Folenfant? Well done! That idea of the man-of-war'scutter was capital. I shall recommend you to your superiors, SergeantFolenfant.... And weren't you hoping for a medal? Right you are!Consider it yours!... and where's your friend Dieuzy? On the left bank,I suppose, in the midst of a hundred natives.... So that, if I escapeshipwreck, I shall be picked up on the left by Dieuzy and his nativesor else on the right by Ganimard and the Neuilly tribes. A nastydilemma...."

  There was an eddy. The boat swung round and Shears was obliged to clingto the row locks.

  "Maitre," said Lupin, "I beg of you to take off your jacket. You will bemore comfortable for swimming. You won't? Then I shall put on mineagain."

  He slipped on his jacket, buttoned it tightly like Shears's and sighed:

  "What a fine fellow you are! And what a pity that you should persist ina business ... in which you are certainly doing the very best you can,but all in vain! Really, you are throwing away your distinguishedtalent."

  "M. Lupin," said Shears, at last abandoning his silence, "you talk agreat deal too much and you often err through excessive confidence andfrivolity."

  "That's a serious reproach."

  "It was in this way that, without knowing it, you supplied me, a momentago, with the information I wanted."

  "What! You wanted some information, and you never told me!"

  "I don't require you or anybody. In three hours' time I shall hand thesolution of the puzzle to M. and reply ..."

  He did not finish his sentence. The boat had suddenly foundered,dragging them both with her. She rose to the surface at once,overturned, with her keel in the air. Loud shouts came from the twobanks, followed by an anxious silence and, suddenly, fresh cries: one ofthe shipwrecked men had reappeared.

  It was Holmlock Shears.

  An excellent swimmer, he struck out boldly for Folenfant's boat.

  "Cheerly, Mr. Shears!" roared the detective-sergeant. "You're allright!... Keep on ... we'll see about him afterward.... We've got himright enough ... one more effort, Mr. Shears ... catch hold...."

  The Englishman seized a rope which they threw to him. But, while theywere dragging him on board, a voice behind him called out:

  "Yes, my dear maitre, you shall have the solution. I am even surprisedthat you have not hit upon it already.... And then? What use will it beto you? It's just then that you will have lost the battle...."

  Seated comfortably astride the hulk, of which he had scaled the sideswhile talking, Arsene Lupin continued his speech with solemn gesturesand as though he hoped to convince his hearers:

  "Do you understand, my dear maitre, that there is nothing to be done,absolutely nothing.... You are in the deplorable position of a gentlemanwho ..."

  Folenfant took aim at him:

  "Lupin, surrender!"

  "You're an ill-bred person, Sergeant Folenfant; you've interrupted me inthe middle of a sentence. I was saying ..."

  "Lupin, surrender!"

  "But, dash it all, Sergeant Folenfant, one only surrenders when indanger! Now surely you have not the face to believe that I am runningthe least danger!"

  "For the last time, Lupin, I call on you to surrender!"

  "Sergeant Folenfant, you have not the smallest intention of killing me;at the most you mean to wound me, you're so afraid of my escaping! Andsupposing that, by accident, the wound should be mortal? Oh, think ofyour remorse, wretched man, of your blighted old age ..."

  The shot went off.

  Lupin staggered, clung for a moment to the overturned boat, then let goand disappeared.

  * * * * *

  It was just three o'clock when these events happened. At six o'clockprecisely, as he had declared, Holmlock Shears, clad in a pair oftrousers too short and a jacket too tight for him, which he had borrowedfrom an inn-keeper at Neuilly, and wearing a cap and a flannel shirtwith a silk cord and tassels, entered the boudoir in the Rue Murillo,after sending word to M. and Mme. d'Imblevalle to ask for an interview.

  They found him walking up and down. And he looked to them so comical inhis queer costume that they had a difficulty in suppressing theirinclination to laugh. With a pensive air and a bent back, he walked,like an automaton, from the window to the door and the door to thewindow, taking each time the same number of steps and turning each timein the same direction.

  He stopped, took up a knick-knack, examined it mechanically and thenresumed his walk.

  At last, planting himself in front of them, he asked:

  "Is mademoiselle here?"

  "Yes, in the garden, with the children."

  "Monsieur le baron, as this will be our final conversation, I shouldlike Mlle. Demun to be present at it."

  "So you decidedly...?"

  "Have a little patience, monsieur. The truth will emerge plainly fromthe facts which I propose to lay before you with the greatest possibleprecision."

  "Very well. Suzanne, do you mind...?"

  Mme. d'Imblevalle rose and returned almost at once, accompanied by AliceDemun. Mademoiselle, looking a little paler than usual, remainedstanding, leaning against a table and without even asking to know whyshe had been sent for.

  Shears appeared not to see her and, turning abruptly towardM. d'Imblevalle, made his statement in a tone that admittedof no reply:

  "After an inquiry extending over several days, and although certainevents for a moment altered my view, I will repeat what I said from thefirst, that the Jewish lamp was stolen by some one living in thishouse."

  "The name?"

  "I know it."

  "Your evidence?"

  "The evidence which I have is enough to confound the culprit."

  "It is not enough that the culprit should be confounded. He mustrestore...."

  "The Jewish lamp? It is in my possession!"

  "The opal necklace? The snuff-box?..."

  "The opal necklace, the snuff-box, in short everything that was stolenon the second occasion is in my possession."

  Shears loved this dry, claptrap way of announcing his triumphs.

  As a matter of fact, the baron and his wife seemed stupefied and lookedat him with a silent curiosity which was, in itself, the highest praise.

  He next summed up in detail all that he had done during those threedays. He told how he had discovered the picture-book, wrote down on asheet of paper the sentence formed by the letters which had been cutout, then described Bresson's expedition to the bank of the Seine andhis suicide and, lastly, the struggle in which he, Shears, had just beenengaged with Lupin, the wreck of the boat and Lupin's disappearance.

  When he had finished, the baron said, in a low voice:

  "Nothing remains but that you should reveal the name of the thief. Whomdo you accuse?"

  "I accuse the person who cut out the letters from this alphabet andcommunicated, by means of those letters, with Arsene Lupin."

  "How do you know that this person's correspondent was
Arsene Lupin?"

  "From Lupin himself."

  He held out a scrap of moist and crumpled paper. It was the page whichLupin had torn from his note-book in the boat, and on which he hadwritten the sentence.

  "And observe," said Shears, in a gratified voice, "that there wasnothing to compel him to give me this paper and thus make himself known.It was a mere schoolboy prank on his part, which gave me the informationI wanted."

  "What information?" asked the baron. "I don't see...."

  Shears copied out the letters and figures in pencil:

  C D E H N O P R Z E O--237

  "Well?" said M. d'Imblevalle. "That's the formula which you have justshown us yourself."

  "No. If you had turned this formula over and over, as I have done, youwould have seen at once that it contains two more letters than thefirst, an E and an O."

  "As a matter of fact, I did not notice...."

  "Place these two letters beside the C and H which remained over fromthe word _Repondez_, and you will see that the only possible word is'ECHO.'"

  "Which means...?"

  "Which means the _Echo de France_, Lupin's newspaper, his own organ, theone for which he reserves his official communications. 'Send reply tothe _Echo de France_, agony column, No. 237.' That was the key for whichI had hunted so long and with which Lupin was kind enough to supply me.I have just come from the office of the _Echo de France_."

  "And what have you found?"

  "I have found the whole detailed story of the relations between ArseneLupin and ... his accomplice."

  And Shears spread out seven newspapers, opened at the fourth page, andpicked out the following lines:

  1. ARS. LUP. Lady impl. protect. 540. 2. 540. Awaiting explanations. A. L. 3. A. L. Under dominion of enemy. Lost. 4. 540. Write address. Will make enq. 5. A. L. Murillo. 6. 540. Park 3 p. m. Violets. 7. 237. Agreed Sat. Shall be park. Sun. morn.

  "And you call that a detailed story!" exclaimed M. d'Imblevalle.

  "Why, of course; and, if you will pay attention, you will think thesame. First of all, a lady, signing herself 540, implores the protectionof Arsene Lupin. To this Lupin replies with a request for explanations.The lady answers that she is under the dominion of an enemy, Bresson, nodoubt, and that she is lost unless some one comes to her assistance.Lupin, who is suspicious and dares not yet have an interview with thestranger, asks for the address and suggests an inquiry. The ladyhesitates for four days--see the dates--and, at last, under the pressureof events and the influence of Bresson's threats, gives the name of herstreet, the Rue Murillo. The next day, Arsene Lupin advertises that hewill be in the Parc Monceau at three o'clock and asks the stranger towear a bunch of violets as a token. Here follows an interruption ofeight days in the correspondence. Arsene Lupin and the lady no longerneed write through the medium of the paper: they see each other orcorrespond direct. The plot is contrived: to satisfy Bresson'srequirements, the lady will take the Jewish lamp. It remains to fix theday. The lady, who, from motives of prudence, corresponds by means ofwords cut out and stuck together, decides upon Saturday, and adds, 'Sendreply _Echo_ 237.' Lupin replies that it is agreed and that, moreover,he will be in the park on Sunday morning. On Sunday morning, the thefttook place."

  "Yes, everything fits in," said the baron, approvingly, "and the storyis complete."

  Shears continued:

  "So the theft took place. The lady goes out on Sunday morning, tellsLupin what she has done and carries the Jewish lamp to Bresson. Thingsthen happen as Lupin foresaw. The police, misled by an open window, fourholes in the ground and two scratches on a balcony, at once accept theburglary suggestion. The lady is easy in her mind."

  "Very well," said the baron. "I accept this explanation as perfectlylogical. But the second theft...."

  "The second theft was provoked by the first. After the newspapers hadtold how the Jewish lamp had disappeared, some one thought of returningto the attack and seizing hold of everything that had not been carriedaway. And, this time, it was not a pretended theft, but a real theft,with a genuine burglary, ladders, and so on."

  "Lupin, of course...?"

  "No, Lupin does not act so stupidly. Lupin does not fire at peoplewithout very good reason."

  "Then who was it?"

  "Bresson, no doubt, unknown to the lady whom he had been blackmailing.It was Bresson who broke in here, whom I pursued, who wounded my poorWilson."

  "Are you quite sure?"

  "Absolutely. One of Bresson's accomplices wrote him a letter yesterday,before his suicide, which shows that this accomplice and Lupin hadentered upon a parley for the restitution of all the articles stolenfrom your house. Lupin demanded everything, 'the first thing,' that isto say, the Jewish lamp, 'as well as those of the second business.'Moreover, he watched Bresson. When Bresson went to the bank of the Seineyesterday evening, one of Lupin's associates was dogging him at the sametime as ourselves."

  "What was Bresson doing at the bank of the Seine?"

  "Warned of the progress of my inquiry...."

  "Warned by whom?"

  "By the same lady, who very rightly feared lest the discovery of theJewish lamp should entail the discovery of her adventure.... Bresson,therefore, warned, collected into one parcel all that might compromisehim and dropped it in a place where it would be possible for him torecover it, once the danger was past. It was on his return that, hunteddown by Ganimard and me and doubtless having other crimes on hisconscience, he lost his head and shot himself."

  "But what did the parcel contain?"

  "The Jewish lamp and your other things."

  "Then they are not in your possession?"

  "Immediately after Lupin's disappearance, I took advantage of the bathwhich he had compelled me to take to drive to the spot chosen byBresson; and I found your stolen property wrapped up in linen andoil-skin. Here it is, on the table."

  Without a word, the baron cut the string, tore through the pieces of wetlinen, took out the lamp, turned a screw under the foot, pressed withboth hands on the receiver, opened it into two equal parts and revealedthe golden chimera, set with rubies and emeralds. It was untouched.

  * * * * *

  In all this scene, apparently so natural and consisting of a simplestatement of facts, there was something that made it terribly tragic,which was the formal, direct, irrefutable accusation which Shears hurledat mademoiselle with every word he uttered. And there was also AliceDemun's impressive silence.

  During that long, that cruel accumulation of small super-added proofs,not a muscle of her face had moved, not a gleam of rebellion or fear haddisturbed the serenity of her limpid glance. What was she thinking? And,still more, what would she say at the solemn moment when she must reply,when she must defend herself and break the iron circle in which theEnglishman had so cleverly imprisoned her?

  The moment had struck, and the girl was silent.

  "Speak! speak!" cried M. d'Imblevalle.

  She did not speak.

  He insisted:

  "One word will clear you.... One word of protest and I will believeyou."

  That word she did not utter.

  The baron stepped briskly across the room, returned, went back again andthen, addressing Shears:

  "Well, no, sir! I refuse to believe it true! There are some crimes whichare impossible! And this is opposed to all that I know, all that I haveseen for a year." He put his hand on the Englishman's shoulder. "But areyou yourself, sir, absolutely and definitely sure that you are notmistaken?"

  Shears hesitated, like a man attacked unawares, who does not defendhimself at once. However, he smiled and said:

  "No one but the person whom I accuse could, thanks to the position whichshe fills in your house, know that the Jewish lamp contained thatmagnificent jewel."

  "I refuse to believe it," muttered the baron.

  "Ask her."

  It was, in fact, the one thing which he had not tried, in the blindconfidence which he felt in the girl. But it
was no longer permissibleto deny the evidence.

  He went up to her and, looking her straight in the eyes:

  "Was it you, mademoiselle? Did you take the jewel? Did you correspondwith Arsene Lupin and sham the burglary?"

  She replied:

  "Yes, monsieur."

  She did not lower her head. Her face expressed neither shame norembarrassment.

  "Is it possible?" stammered M. d'Imblevalle. "I would never havebelieved ... you are the last person I should have suspected.... Howdid you do it, unhappy girl?"

  She said:

  "I did as Mr. Shears has said. On Saturday night, I came down here tothe boudoir, took the lamp and, in the morning, carried it ... to thatman."

  "But no," objected the baron; "what you say is impossible."

  "Impossible! Why?"

  "Because I found the door of the boudoir locked in the morning."

  She coloured, lost countenance and looked at Shears as though to ask hisadvice.

  The Englishman seemed struck by Alice's embarrassment even more than bythe baron's objection. Had she, then, no reply to make? Did theconfession that confirmed the explanation which he, Shears, had given ofthe theft of the Jewish lamp conceal a lie which an examination of thefacts at once laid bare?

  The baron continued:

  "The door was locked, I repeat. I declare that I found the bolt as Ileft it at night. If you had come that way, as you pretend, someone musthave opened the door to you from the inside--that is to say, from theboudoir or from our bedroom. Now there was no one in these two rooms... no one except my wife and myself."

  Shears bent down quickly and covered his face with his two hands to hideit. He had flushed scarlet. Something resembling too sudden a light hadstruck him and left him dazed and ill at ease. The whole stood revealedto him like a dim landscape from which the darkness was suddenlylifting.

  Alice Demun was innocent.

  Alice Demun was innocent. That was a certain, blinding fact and, at thesame time, explained the sort of embarrassment which he had felt sincethe first day at directing the terrible accusation against this younggirl. He saw clearly now. He knew. It needed but a movement and, thenand there, the irrefutable proof would stand forth before him.

  He raised his head and, after a few seconds, as naturally as he could,turned his eyes toward Mme. d'Imblevalle.

  She was pale, with that unaccustomed pallor that overcomes us at therelentless hours of life. Her hands, which she strove to hide, trembledimperceptibly.

  "Another second," thought Shears, "and she will have betrayed herself."

  He placed himself between her and her husband, with the imperiouslonging to ward off the terrible danger which, through his fault,threatened this man and this woman. But, at the sight of the baron, heshuddered to the very depths of his being. The same sudden revelationwhich had dazzled him with its brilliancy was now enlighteningM. d'Imblevalle. The same thought was working in the husband's brain.He understood in his turn! He saw!

  Desperately, Alice Demun strove to resist the implacable truth:

  "You are right, monsieur; I made a mistake. As a matter of fact, I didnot come in this way. I went through the hall and the garden and, withthe help of a ladder...."

  It was a supreme effort of devotion ... but a useless effort! The wordsdid not ring true. The voice had lost its assurance and the sweet girlwas no longer able to retain her limpid glance and her great air ofsincerity. She hung her head, defeated.

  * * * * *

  The silence was frightful. Mme. d'Imblevalle waited, her features lividand drawn with anguish and fear. The baron seemed to be stillstruggling, as though refusing to believe in the downfall of hishappiness.

  At last he stammered:

  "Speak! Explain yourself!"

  "I have nothing to say, my poor friend," she said, in a very low voiceher features wrung with despair.

  "Then ... mademoiselle...?"

  "Mademoiselle saved me ... through devotion ... through affection ...and accused herself...."

  "Saved you from what? From whom?"

  "From that man."

  "Bresson?"

  "Yes, he held me by his threats.... I met him at a friend's house ...and I had the madness to listen to him. Oh, there was nothing that youcannot forgive!... But I wrote him two letters ... you shall see them....I bought them back ... you know how.... Oh, have pity on me.... I havebeen so unhappy!"

  "You! You! Suzanne!"

  He raised his clenched fists to her, ready to beat her, ready to killher. But his arms fell to his sides and he murmured again:

  "You, Suzanne!... You!... Is it possible?"

  In short, abrupt sentences, she told the heartbreaking and commonplacestory: her terrified awakening in the face of the man's infamy, herremorse, her madness; and she also described Alice's admirable conduct:the girl suspecting her mistress's despair, forcing a confession fromher, writing to Lupin and contriving this story of a robbery to save herfrom Bresson's clutches.

  "You, Suzanne, you!" repeated M. d'Imblevalle, bent double, overwhelmed."How could you...?"

  * * * * *

  On the evening of the same day, the steamer _Ville de Londres_, fromCalais to Dover, was gliding slowly over the motionless water. The nightwas dark and calm. Peaceful clouds were suggested rather than seen abovethe boat and, all around, light veils of mist separated her from theinfinite space in which the moon and stars were shedding their cold, butinvisible radiance.

  Most of the passengers had gone to the cabins and saloons. A few ofthem, however, bolder than the rest, were walking up and down the deckor else dozing under thick rugs in the big rocking-chairs. Here andthere the gleam showed of a cigar; and, mingling with the gentle breathof the wind, came the murmur of voices that dared not rise high in thegreat solemn silence.

  One of the passengers, who was walking to and fro with even strides,stopped beside a person stretched out on a bench, looked at her and,when she moved slightly, said:

  "I thought you were asleep, Mlle. Alice."

  "No, Mr. Shears, I do not feel sleepy. I was thinking."

  "What of? Is it indiscreet to ask?"

  "I was thinking of Mme. d'Imblevalle. How sad she must be! Her life isruined."

  "Not at all, not at all," he said, eagerly. "Her fault is not one ofthose which can never be forgiven. M. d'Imblevalle will forget thatlapse. Already, when we left, he was looking at her less harshly."

  "Perhaps ... but it will take long to forget ... and she is suffering."

  "Are you very fond of her?"

  "Very. That gave me such strength to smile when I was trembling withfear, to look you in the face when I wanted to avoid your glance."

  "And are you unhappy at leaving her?"

  "Most unhappy. I have no relations or friends.... I had only her...."

  "You shall have friends," said the Englishman, whom this grief wasupsetting, "I promise you that.... I have connections.... I have muchinfluence.... I assure you that you will not regret your position...."

  "Perhaps, but Mme. d'Imblevalle will not be there...."

  They exchanged no more words. Holmlock Shears took two or three moreturns along the deck and then came back and settled down near histravelling-companion.

  The misty curtain lifted and the clouds seemed to part in the sky. Starstwinkled up above.

  Shears took his pipe from the pocket of his Inverness cape, filled itand struck four matches, one after the other, without succeeding inlighting it. As he had none left, he rose and said to a gentleman seateda few steps off:

  "Could you oblige me with a light, please?"

  The gentleman opened a box of fusees and struck one. A flame blazed up.By its light, Shears saw Arsene Lupin.

  * * * * *

  If the Englishman had not given a tiny movement, an almost imperceptiblemovement of recoil, Lupin might have thought that his presence on boardwas known to him, so great was the mastery which Shears r
etained overhimself and so natural the ease with which he held out his hand to hisadversary:

  "Keeping well, M. Lupin?"

  "Bravo!" exclaimed Lupin, from whom this self-command drew a cry ofadmiration.

  "Bravo?... What for?"

  "What for? You see me reappear before you like a ghost, after witnessingmy dive into the Seine, and, from pride, from a miraculous pride which Iwill call essentially British, you give not a movement of astonishment,you utter not a word of surprise! Upon my word, I repeat, bravo! It'sadmirable!"

  "There's nothing admirable about it. From the way you fell off the boat,I could see that you fell of your own accord and that you had not beenstruck by the sergeant's shot."

  "And you went away without knowing what became of me?"

  "What became of you? I knew. Five hundred people were commanding the twobanks over a distance of three-quarters of a mile. Once you escapeddeath, your capture was certain."

  "And yet I'm here!"

  "M. Lupin, there are two men in the world of whom nothing can astonishme: myself first and you next."

  * * * * *

  Peace was concluded.

  If Shears had failed in his undertakings against Arsene Lupin, if Lupinremained the exceptional enemy whom he must definitely renounce allattempts to capture, if, in the course of the engagements, Lupin alwayspreserved his superiority, the Englishman had, nevertheless, thanks tohis formidable tenacity, recovered the Jewish lamp, just as he hadrecovered the blue diamond. Perhaps, this time, the result was lessbrilliant, especially from the point of view of the public, since Shearswas obliged to suppress the circumstances in which the Jewish lamp hadbeen discovered and to proclaim that he did not know the culprit's name.But, as between man and man, between Lupin and Shears, between burglarand detective, there was, in all fairness, neither victor norvanquished. Each of them could lay claim to equal triumphs.

  They talked, therefore, like courteous adversaries who have laid downtheir arms and who esteem each other at their true worth.

  At Shears's request, Lupin described his escape.

  "If, indeed," he said, "you can call it an escape. It was so simple! Myfriends were on the watch, since we had arranged to meet in order tofish up the Jewish lamp. And so, after remaining a good half-hour underthe overturned keel of the boat, I took advantage of a moment whenFolenfant and his men were looking for my corpse along the banks and Iclimbed on to the wreck again. My friends had only to pick me up intheir motor-boat and to dash off before the astounded eyes of the fivehundred sightseers, Ganimard and Folenfant."

  "Very pretty!" cried Shears. "Most successful! And now have you businessin England?"

  "Yes, a few accounts to settle.... But I was forgetting....M. d'Imblevalle...?"

  "He knows all."

  "Ah, my dear maitre, what did I tell you? The harm's done now, beyondrepair. Would it not have been better to let me go to work in my ownway? A day or two more and I should have recovered the Jewish lamp andthe other things from Bresson and sent them back to the d'Imblevalles;and those two good people would have gone on living peacefully together.Instead of which...."

  "Instead of which," snarled Shears, "I have muddled everything up andbrought discord into a family which you were protecting."

  "Well, yes, if you like, protecting! Is it indispensable that one shouldalways steal, cheat and do harm?"

  "So you do good also?"

  "When I have time. Besides, it amuses me. I think it extremely funnythat, in the present adventure, I should be the good genius who rescuesand saves and you the wicked genius who brings despair and tears."

  "Certainly! The d'Imblevalle home is broken up and Alice Demun isweeping."

  "She could not have remained.... Ganimard would have ended bydiscovering her ... and through her they would have worked back toMme. d'Imblevalle."

  "Quite of your opinion, maitre; but whose fault was it?"

  * * * * *

  Two men passed in front of them. Shears said to Lupin, in a voice thetone of which seemed a little altered:

  "Do you know who those two gentlemen are?"

  "I think one was the captain of the boat."

  "And the other?"

  "I don't know."

  "It is Mr. Austin Gilett. And Mr. Austin Gilett occupies in England apost which corresponds with that of your M. Dudouis."

  "Oh, what luck! Would you have the kindness to introduce me? M. Dudouisis a great friend of mine and I should like to be able to say as much ofMr. Austin Gilett."

  The two gentlemen reappeared.

  "And, suppose I were to take you at your word, M. Lupin...?" saidShears, rising.

  He had seized Arsene Lupin's wrist and held it in a grip of steel.

  "Why grip me so hard, maitre? I am quite ready to go with you."

  He allowed himself, in fact, to be dragged along, without the leastresistance. The two gentlemen were walking away from them.

  Shears increased his pace. His nails dug into Lupin's very flesh.

  "Come along, come along!" he said, under his breath, in a sort offevered haste to settle everything as quickly as possible. "Come along!Quick!"

  But he stopped short: Alice Demun had followed them.

  "What are you doing, mademoiselle? You need not trouble to come!"

  It was Lupin who replied:

  "I beg you to observe, maitre, that mademoiselle is not coming of herown free will. I am holding her wrist with an energy similar to thatwhich you are applying to mine."

  "And why?"

  "Why? Well, I am bent upon introducing her also. Her part in the storyof the Jewish Lamp is even more important than mine. As an accomplice ofArsene Lupin, and of Bresson as well, she too must tell the adventure ofthe Baronne d'Imblevalle ... which is sure to interest the policeimmensely. And in this way you will have pushed your kind interferenceto its last limits, O generous Shears!"

  The Englishman had released his prisoner's wrist. Lupin let go ofmademoiselle's.

  They stood, for a few seconds, without moving, looking at one another.Then Shears went back to his bench and sat down. Lupin and the girlresumed their places.

  * * * * *

  A long silence divided them. Then Lupin said:

  "You see, maitre, do what we may, we shall never be in the same camp.You will always be on one side of the ditch, I on the other. We can nod,shake hands, exchange a word or two; but the ditch is always there. Youwill always be, Holmlock Shears, detective, and I Arsene Lupin, burglar.And Holmlock Shears will always, more or less spontaneously, more orless seasonably, obey his instinct as a detective, which is to hounddown the burglar and 'run him in' if possible. And Arsene Lupin willalways be consistent with his burglar's soul in avoiding the grasp ofthe detective and laughing at him if he can. And, this time, he can! Ha,ha, ha!"

  He burst into a cunning, cruel and detestable laugh.... Then, suddenlybecoming serious, he leaned toward the girl:

  "Be sure, mademoiselle, that, though reduced to the last extremity, Iwould not have betrayed you. Arsene Lupin never betrays, especiallythose whom he likes and admires. And you must permit me to say that Ilike and admire the dear, plucky creature that you are."

  He took a visiting-card from his pocketbook, tore it in two, gaveone-half to the girl and, in a touched and respectful voice:

  "If Mr. Shears does not succeed in his steps, mademoiselle, pray go toLady Strongborough, whose address you can easily find out, hand her thishalf-card and say, 'Faithful memories!' Lady Strongborough will show youthe devotion of a sister."

  "Thank you," said the girl, "I will go to her to-morrow."

  "And now, maitre," cried Lupin, in the satisfied tone of a man who hasdone his duty, "let me bid you good night. The mist has delayed us andthere is still time to take forty winks." He stretched himself at fulllength and crossed his hands behind his head.

  * * * * *

  The sky had opened before the moo
n. She shed her radiant brightnessaround the stars and over the sea. It floated upon the water; and space,in which the last mists were dissolving, seemed to belong to it.

  The line of the coast stood out against the dark horizon. Passengerscame up on deck, which was now covered with people. Mr. Austin Gilettpassed in the company of two men whom Shears recognized as members ofthe English detective-force.

  On his bench, Lupin slept....

 

‹ Prev Next ›