Delphi Collected Works of Maurice Leblanc (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Nine Book 17)

by Maurice Leblanc

  “Yes, he is a clever man, but some day I shall have the pleasure of

  placing on his shoulder the hand I now offer to you, Monsieur Devanne.

  And I believe that Arsène Lupin and Sherlock Holmes will meet again

  some day. Yes, the world is too small — we will meet — we must meet — and

  then—”

  Arsène Lupin vs. Herlock Sholmes

  OR, THE BLONDE LADY

  Translated by George Morehead

  The second collection of Lupin tales comprises stories that were initially published in the magazine Je sais tout from November 1906 to April 1907. A collection of these stories was published with modifications in February 1908 and in 1914 another edition appeared with further modifications. In America, it was published in Chicago by M. A. Donohue in 1910, with an English translation by George Morehead. The English translation published in Britain the same year was done by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos, re-titled Arsène Lupin versus Holmlock Shears.

  Herlock Sholmes/Holmlock Shears is, of course, a reference to ‘the’ Sherlock Holmes, the Arthur Conan Doyle creation. Lupin does seem to have been a genuine admirer both of Holmes and of his creator, Doyle (and wrote a glowing tribute to Doyle after his death for Les Annales politiques et littéraires, 1 August 1930), but it is only to be expected that his own character, Lupin, would come out of the stories featuring both detectives, as the greater talent. Adaptations of all kinds, including the re-working of an existing character by another author, will never universally please fans and Leblanc came under particularly vigorous criticism for his portrayal of Dr. Watson (Holmes’ assistant and biographer), re-named Wilson, as a shambling buffoon, completely missing the role and value of the character. (Leblanc later apologised for his mischaracterisation: ‘I have not been wholly fair in my descriptions of that character’). There is another point of reference between Doyle and Leblanc, in that both authors tired of their charismatic creations, but due to public pressure, felt compelled to keep writing stories about them. Although there is no evidence the two authors met or even corresponded, had they done so, they may well have found much in common. Bearing in mind Doyle’s antipathy towards his own character, it is surprising that he took such exception to Leblanc using Holmes in his own stories, unless the indignation was prompted by financial considerations, or possibly by Doyle’s own sense of morality – he was averse to characters such as Lupin who were comfortable using criminal means to achieve their ends and thus may not have wanted Holmes to be associated with this. Doyle may have jumped to conclusions about Leblanc and Lupin; Leblanc was at pains to point out in an interview that his roguish detective was ‘brave and chivalrous’ and that his victims deserved everything they got.

  The first story has a title that resonates with uncertainty and potential loss or gain at the hands of fate – ‘Lottery Ticket No. 514.’ M. Gerbois, professor of mathematics at the College of Versailles, is browsing in an antique shop when he finds a pretty mahogany desk, ideal as a birthday present for his daughter, Suzanne. To his surprise, on leaving the shop he is approached by a man that had also seen the desk and wished to buy it from him. M. Gerbois flatly refuses to sell or exchange the desk and almost inevitably, before long it is stolen from his home. He is convinced the persistent young man that wanted the desk is to blame and that something of immense value must have been concealed in the desk, so the police are summoned. Whilst the case of theft languishes unsolved, two months later, M. Gerbois discovers that he owns the winning ticket in the lottery – number 514 – but it was stolen in his daughter’s desk! However, if the thief tries to claim the win, he must reveal himself, so Gerbois telegraphs the Crédit Foncier to stake his claim and warn against fraudulent claims. At the same time, one M. Arsène Lupin also telegraphs the Credit Foncier to inform them he has the winning ticket. M. Gerbois goes to the press, loudly bemoaning his fate and Lupin contacts him by letter to suggest that rather than bickering before the whole world, they simply each take a 50/50 cut of the million franc prize. Gerbois is incandescent with rage and is determined to see it through to the bitter end in the courts. But yet worse is to befall him – his daughter Suzanne is abducted and a ransom of 500,000 francs is demanded. At the same time, the lottery ticket is returned to Gerbois. Ganimard of the police is determined that at last, he will apprehend Lupin, who has foiled him so often before. Is Arsène Lupin playing the role of puppeteer, toying with the lives of all those involved?

  The story of the Blue Diamond opens with a scene of peaceful domesticity in the home of the elderly Baron d’Hautrec, which soon turns to distress in the middle of the night when his servant finds the Baron stabbed to death, seemingly during a desperate struggle, as the room is in disarray. The Baron’s secretary is missing and on an impulse as no-one is there as witness, the servant pockets all the cash from his dead master’s wallet. However, he does summon the police, but they are all astonished to find the crime scene all put back in order and the murder weapon gone. In the hand of the dead Baron lies his greatest treasure, a blue diamond worth a fortune, left untouched by his assailant.

  Enter detective Ganimard, who inspects the house and questions the servant. He is of the opinion that the secretary, Mlle Antoinette Brehat, is the culprit and he is equally convinced that the hand of Lupin can be seen in this new case: ‘I find in this case the same method of procedure as we found in the affair of the lottery ticket number 514; the same phenomena, which might be termed the faculty of disappearing.’ The heirs to the Baron’s estate sell the blue diamond at auction and there is fierce bidding. Ganimard goes along in the hopes of seeing Lupin there, but instead, sees a mysterious lady in a heavy veil. The winning bid is placed by the Countess de Crozon. Little does she know that a rumour is abroad that the blue diamond can only bring ill fortune to its owner…

  The next tale, Herlock Sholmes Opens Hostilities, begins with a fascinating portrait of Lupin as he dines with an associate. We learn that ‘he laughed and joked with careless animation and with that delicate sarcasm that was habitual with him — a light and spontaneous sarcasm that was quite free from any tinge of malice.’ Lupin explains what it is that makes his lifestyle so appealing to him: ‘“That is everything, do you understand, the danger! The continuous feeling of danger! To breathe it as you breathe the air, to scent it in every breath of wind, to detect it in every unusual sound.... And, in the midst of the tempest, to remain calm ... and not to stumble! Otherwise, you are lost.’

  During the conversation we learn that Herlock Sholmes, famous British detective, has just arrived in Paris and has been engaged by the Countess of Crozon and the heirs of Baron d’Hautrec to solve the mystery of the blue diamond. Far from being perturbed, Lupin relishes the thought of having a worthy opponent, one described as having ‘a wonderful combination of intuition, observation, clairvoyance and ingenuity.’ The battle of wills beings with a chance meeting in the restaurant between Lupin, the narrator, Sholmes and his assistant, Wilson. From now on, we see the story largely through the eyes of Sholmes and Wilson. Who is the mysterious blonde lady? Who will win the prolonged battle of wits and intellect between the two audacious men?

  This very entertaining set of interwoven chapters feature Sholmes more prominently than they do Lupin, although this fits with Lupin’s modus operandi – to remain covert, apart from audacious forays into open view, whereas in stories about Holmes, he is usually leading the action for most of the time. It is for the individual reader to decide if Leblanc’s representation of Sherlock Holmes (as Herlock Sholmes) is faithful to Doyle’s character – certainly, many of the familiar features are there, from the quick thinking to the pipe smoking. As Leblanc was to later admit, the representation of Watson (as Wilson) is more problematic. The pop-eyed, disingenuous Colonel Blimp that is the assistant to Holmes in this volume bears little relation to the staunch and intelligent friend and ally of the real Holmes and one wonders if Leblanc’s version was the one that informed some of the cinematic depictions of Watson, such as
Nigel Bruce (to Basil Rathbone’s Holmes), whose portrayal was charming, but essentially bumbling and wide-eyed. A fascinating volume on several levels, Arsène Lupin vs. Herlock Sholmes is sure to appeal to mystery fans and Sherlockians in equal measure.

  Dr Joseph Bell, the real-life inspiration for Sherlock Holmes

  CONTENTS

  LOTTERY TICKET NO. 514.

  THE BLUE DIAMOND.

  HERLOCK SHOLMES OPENS HOSTILITIES.

  LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS.

  AN ABDUCTION.

  SECOND ARREST OF ARSÈNE LUPIN.

  THE JEWISH LAMP.

  THE SHIPWRECK.

  Dr. Watson (left) and Sherlock Holmes in an early illustration by Sidney Paget

  LOTTERY TICKET NO. 514.

  ON THE EIGHTH day of last December, Mon. Gerbois, professor of mathematics at the College of Versailles, while rummaging in an old curiosity-shop, unearthed a small mahogany writing-desk which pleased him very much on account of the multiplicity of its drawers.

  “Just the thing for Suzanne’s birthday present,” thought he. And as he always tried to furnish some simple pleasures for his daughter, consistent with his modest income, he enquired the price, and, after some keen bargaining, purchased it for sixty-five francs. As he was giving his address to the shopkeeper, a young man, dressed with elegance and taste, who had been exploring the stock of antiques, caught sight of the writing-desk, and immediately enquired its price.

  “It is sold,” replied the shopkeeper.

  “Ah! to this gentleman, I presume?”

  Monsieur Gerbois bowed, and left the store, quite proud to be the possessor of an article which had attracted the attention of a gentleman of quality. But he had not taken a dozen steps in the street, when he was overtaken by the young man who, hat in hand and in a tone of perfect courtesy, thus addressed him:

  “I beg your pardon, monsieur; I am going to ask you a question that you may deem impertinent. It is this: Did you have any special object in view when you bought that writing-desk?”

  “No, I came across it by chance and it struck my fancy.”

  “But you do not care for it particularly?”

  “Oh! I shall keep it — that is all.”

  “Because it is an antique, perhaps?”

  “No; because it is convenient,” declared Mon. Gerbois.

  “In that case, you would consent to exchange it for another desk that would be quite as convenient and in better condition?”

  “Oh! this one is in good condition, and I see no object in making an exchange.”

  “But — —”

  Mon. Gerbois is a man of irritable disposition and hasty temper. So he replied, testily:

  “I beg of you, monsieur, do not insist.”

  But the young man firmly held his ground.

  “I don’t know how much you paid for it, monsieur, but I offer you double.”

  “No.”

  “Three times the amount.”

  “Oh! that will do,” exclaimed the professor, impatiently; “I don’t wish to sell it.”

  The young man stared at him for a moment in a manner that Mon. Gerbois would not readily forget, then turned and walked rapidly away.

  An hour later, the desk was delivered at the professor’s house on the Viroflay road. He called his daughter, and said:

  “Here is something for you, Suzanne, provided you like it.”

  Suzanne was a pretty girl, with a gay and affectionate nature. She threw her arms around her father’s neck and kissed him rapturously. To her, the desk had all the semblance of a royal gift. That evening, assisted by Hortense, the servant, she placed the desk in her room; then she dusted it, cleaned the drawers and pigeon-holes, and carefully arranged within it her papers, writing material, correspondence, a collection of post-cards, and some souvenirs of her cousin Philippe that she kept in secret.

  Next morning, at half past seven, Mon. Gerbois went to the college. At ten o’clock, in pursuance of her usual custom, Suzanne went to meet him, and it was a great pleasure for him to see her slender figure and childish smile waiting for him at the college gate. They returned home together.

  “And your writing desk — how is it this morning?”

  “Marvellous! Hortense and I have polished the brass mountings until they look like gold.”

  “So you are pleased with it?”

  “Pleased with it! Why, I don’t see how I managed to get on without it for such a long time.”

  As they were walking up the pathway to the house, Mon. Gerbois said:

  “Shall we go and take a look at it before breakfast?”

  “Oh! yes, that’s a splendid idea!”

  She ascended the stairs ahead of her father, but, on arriving at the door of her room, she uttered a cry of surprise and dismay.

  “What’s the matter?” stammered Mon. Gerbois.

  “The writing-desk is gone!”

  When the police were called in, they were astonished at the admirable simplicity of the means employed by the thief. During Suzanne’s absence, the servant had gone to market, and while the house was thus left unguarded, a drayman, wearing a badge — some of the neighbors saw it — stopped his cart in front of the house and rang twice. Not knowing that Hortense was absent, the neighbors were not suspicious; consequently, the man carried on his work in peace and tranquility.

  Apart from the desk, not a thing in the house had been disturbed. Even Suzanne’s purse, which she had left upon the writing-desk, was found upon an adjacent table with its contents untouched. It was obvious that the thief had come with a set purpose, which rendered the crime even more mysterious; because, why did he assume so great a risk for such a trifling object?

  The only clue the professor could furnish was the strange incident of the preceding evening. He declared:

  “The young man was greatly provoked at my refusal, and I had an idea that he threatened me as he went away.”

  But the clue was a vague one. The shopkeeper could not throw any light on the affair. He did not know either of the gentlemen. As to the desk itself, he had purchased it for forty francs at an executor’s sale at Chevreuse, and believed he had resold it at its fair value. The police investigation disclosed nothing more.

  But Mon. Gerbois entertained the idea that he had suffered an enormous loss. There must have been a fortune concealed in a secret drawer, and that was the reason the young man had resorted to crime.

  “My poor father, what would we have done with that fortune?” asked Suzanne.

  “My child! with such a fortune, you could make a most advantageous marriage.”

  Suzanne sighed bitterly. Her aspirations soared no higher than her cousin Philippe, who was indeed a most deplorable object. And life, in the little house at Versailles, was not so happy and contented as of yore.

  Two months passed away. Then came a succession of startling events, a strange blending of good luck and dire misfortune!

  On the first day of February, at half-past five, Mon. Gerbois entered the house, carrying an evening paper, took a seat, put on his spectacles, and commenced to read. As politics did not interest him, he turned to the inside of the paper. Immediately his attention was attracted by an article entitled:

  “Third Drawing of the Press Association Lottery.

  “No. 514, series 23, draws a million.”

  The newspaper slipped from his fingers. The walls swam before his eyes, and his heart ceased to beat. He held No. 514, series 23. He had purchased it from a friend, to oblige him, without any thought of success, and behold, it was the lucky number!

  Quickly, he took out his memorandum-book. Yes, he was quite right. The No. 514, series 23, was written there, on the inside of the cover. But the ticket?

  He rushed to his desk to find the envelope-box in which he had placed the precious ticket; but the box was not there, and it suddenly occurred to him that it had not been there for several weeks. He heard footsteps on the gravel walk leading from the street.

  He called:

  �
��Suzanne! Suzanne!”

  She was returning from a walk. She entered hastily. He stammered, in a choking voice:

  “Suzanne ... the box ... the box of envelopes?”

  “What box?”

  “The one I bought at the Louvre ... one Saturday ... it was at the end of that table.”

  “Don’t you remember, father, we put all those things away together.”

  “When?”

  “The evening ... you know ... the same evening....”

  “But where?... Tell me, quick!... Where?”

  “Where? Why, in the writing-desk.”

  “In the writing-desk that was stolen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, mon Dieu!... In the stolen desk!”

  He uttered the last sentence in a low voice, in a sort of stupor. Then he seized her hand, and in a still lower voice, he said:

  “It contained a million, my child.”

  “Ah! father, why didn’t you tell me?” she murmured, naively.

  “A million!” he repeated. “It contained the ticket that drew the grand prize in the Press Lottery.”

  The colossal proportions of the disaster overwhelmed them, and for a long time they maintained a silence that they feared to break. At last, Suzanne said:

  “But, father, they will pay you just the same.”

  “How? On what proof?”

  “Must you have proof?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you haven’t any?”

  “It was in the box.”

  “In the box that has disappeared.”

  “Yes; and now the thief will get the money.”

  “Oh! that would be terrible, father. You must prevent it.”

  For a moment he was silent; then, in an outburst of energy, he leaped up, stamped on the floor, and exclaimed: