The automobile stopped. In two hours they had traveled over forty leagues.
A man, wearing a blue uniform and a goldlaced cap, came forward and saluted. Lupin said to him:
“All ready, captain? Did you receive my telegram?”
“Yes, I got it.”
“Is The Swallow ready?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Come, Monsieur Sholmes.”
The Englishman looked around, saw a group of people on the terrace in front of a café, hesitated a moment, then, realizing that before he could secure any assistance he would be seized, carried aboard and placed in the bottom of the hold, he crossed the gang-plank and followed Lupin into the captain’s cabin. It was quite a large room, scrupulously clean, and presented a cheerful appearance with its varnished woodwork and polished brass. Lupin closed the door and addressed Sholmes abruptly, and almost rudely, as he said:
“Well, what do you know?”
“Everything.”
“Everything? Come, be precise.”
His voice contained no longer that polite, if ironical, tone, which he had affected when speaking to the Englishman. Now, his voice had the imperious tone of a master accustomed to command and accustomed to be obeyed — even by a Herlock Sholmes. They measured each other by their looks, enemies now — open and implacable foes. Lupin spoke again, but in a milder tone:
“I have grown weary of your pursuit, and do not intend to waste any more time in avoiding the traps you lay for me. I warn you that my treatment of you will depend on your reply. Now, what do you know?”
“Everything, monsieur.”
Arsène Lupin controlled his temper and said, in a jerky manner:
“I will tell you what you know. You know that, under the name of Maxime Bermond, I have ... improved fifteen houses that were originally constructed by Monsieur Destange.”
“Yes.”
“Of those fifteen houses, you have seen four.”
“Yes.”
“And you have a list of the other eleven.”
“Yes.”
“You made that list at Monsieur Destange’s house on that night, no doubt.”
“Yes.”
“And you have an idea that, amongst those eleven houses, there is one that I have kept for the use of myself and my friends, and you have intrusted to Ganimard the task of finding my retreat.”
“No.”
“What does that signify?”
“It signifies that I choose to act alone, and do not want his help.”
“Then I have nothing to fear, since you are in my hands.”
“You have nothing to fear as long as I remain in your hands.”
“You mean that you will not remain?”
“Yes.”
Arsène Lupin approached the Englishman and, placing his hand on the latter’s shoulder, said:
“Listen, monsieur; I am not in a humor to argue with you, and, unfortunately for you, you are not in a position to choose. So let us finish our business.”
“Very well.”
“You are going to give me your word of honor that you will not try to escape from this boat until you arrive in English waters.”
“I give you my word of honor that I shall escape if I have an opportunity,” replied the indomitable Sholmes.
“But, sapristi! you know quite well that at a word from me you would soon be rendered helpless. All these men will obey me blindly. At a sign from me they would place you in irons — —”
“Irons can be broken.”
“And throw you overboard ten miles from shore.”
“I can swim.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Lupin, with a laugh. “Excuse me, master ... and let us finish. You will agree that I must take the measures necessary to protect myself and my friends.”
“Certainly; but they will be useless.”
“And yet you do not wish me to take them.”
“It is your duty.”
“Very well, then.”
Lupin opened the door and called the captain and two sailors. The latter seized the Englishman, bound him hand and foot, and tied him to the captain’s bunk.
“That will do,” said Lupin. “It was only on account of your obstinacy and the unusual gravity of the situation, that I ventured to offer you this indignity.”
The sailors retired. Lupin said to the captain:
“Let one of the crew remain here to look after Monsieur Sholmes, and you can give him as much of your own company as possible. Treat him with all due respect and consideration. He is not a prisoner, but a guest. What time have you, captain?”
“Five minutes after two.”
Lupin consulted his watch, then looked at the clock that was attached to the wall of the cabin.
“Five minutes past two is right. How long will it take you to reach Southampton?”
“Nine hours, easy going.”
“Make it eleven. You must not land there until after the departure of the midnight boat, which reaches Havre at eight o’clock in the morning. Do you understand, captain? Let me repeat: As it would be very dangerous for all of us to permit Monsieur to return to France by that boat, you must not reach Southampton before one o’clock in the morning.”
“I understand.”
“Au revoir, master; next year, in this world or in the next.”
“Until to-morrow,” replied Sholmes.
A few minutes later Sholmes heard the automobile going away, and at the same time the steam puffed violently in the depths of The Swallow. The boat had started for England. About three o’clock the vessel left the mouth of the river and plunged into the open sea. At that moment Sholmes was lying on the captain’s bunk, sound asleep.
Next morning — it being the tenth and last day of the duel between Sholmes and Lupin — the Echo de France published this interesting bit of news:
“Yesterday a judgment of ejectment was entered in the case of Arsène Lupin against Herlock Sholmes, the English detective. Although signed at noon, the judgment was executed the same day. At one o’clock this morning Sholmes was landed at Southampton.”
SECOND ARREST OF ARSÈNE LUPIN.
SINCE EIGHT O’CLOCK a dozen moving-vans had encumbered the rue Crevaux between the avenue du Bois-de-Boulogne and the avenue Bugeaud. Mon. Felix Davey was leaving the apartment in which he lived on the fourth floor of No. 8; and Mon. Dubreuil, who had united into a single apartment the fifth floor of the same house and the fifth floor of the two adjoining houses, was moving on the same day — a mere coincidence, since the gentlemen were unknown to each other — the vast collection of furniture regarding which so many foreign agents visited him every day.
A circumstance which had been noticed by some of the neighbors, but was not spoken of until later, was this: None of the twelve vans bore the name and address of the owner, and none of the men accompanying them visited the neighboring wine shops. They worked so diligently that the furniture was all out by eleven o’clock. Nothing remained but those scraps of papers and rags that are always left behind in the corners of the empty rooms.
Mon. Felix Davey, an elegant young man, dressed in the latest fashion, carried in his hand a walking-stick, the weight of which indicated that its owner possessed extraordinary biceps — Mon. Felix Davey walked calmly away and took a seat on a bench in the avenue du Bois-de-Boulogne facing the rue Pergolese. Close to him a woman, dressed in a neat but inexpensive costume, was reading a newspaper, whilst a child was playing with a shovel in a heap of sand.
After a few minutes Felix Davey spoke to the woman, without turning his head:
“Ganimard!”
“Went out at nine o’clock this morning.”
“Where?”
“To police headquarters.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“No telegram during the night?”
“No.”
“Do they suspect you in the house?”
“No; I do some little things for Madame Ganimard,
and she tells me everything her husband does. I have been with her all morning.”
“Very well. Until further orders come here every day at eleven o’clock.”
He rose and walked away in the direction of the Dauphine gate, stopping at the Chinese pavilion, where he partook of a frugal repast consisting of two eggs, with some fruit and vegetables. Then he returned to the rue Crevaux and said to the concierge:
“I will just glance through the rooms and then give you the keys.”
He finished his inspection of the room that he had used as a library; then he seized the end of a gas-pipe, which hung down the side of the chimney. The pipe was bent and a hole made in the elbow. To this hole he fitted a small instrument in the form of an ear-trumpet and blew into it. A slight whistling sound came by way of reply. Placing the trumpet to his mouth, he said:
“Anyone around, Dubreuil?”
“No.”
“May I come up!”
“Yes.”
He returned the pipe to its place, saying to himself:
“How progressive we are! Our century abounds with little inventions which render life really charming and picturesque. And so amusing!... especially when a person knows how to enjoy life as I do.”
He turned one of the marble mouldings of the mantel, and the entire half of the mantel moved, and the mirror above it glided in invisible grooves, disclosing an opening and the lower steps of a stairs built in the very body of the chimney; all very clean and complete — the stairs were constructed of polished metal and the walls of white tiles. He ascended the steps, and at the fifth floor there was the same opening in the chimney. Mon. Dubreuil was waiting for him.
“Have you finished in your rooms?”
“Yes.”
“Everything cleared out?”
“Yes.”
“And the people?”
“Only the three men on guard.”
“Very well; come on.”
They ascended to the upper floor by the same means, one after the other, and there found three men, one of whom was looking through the window.
“Anything new?”
“Nothing, governor.”
“All quiet in the street?”
“Yes.”
“In ten minutes I will be ready to leave. You will go also. But in the meantime if you see the least suspicious movement in the street, warn me.”
“I have my finger on the alarm-bell all the time.”
“Dubreuil, did you tell the moving men not to touch the wire of that bell?”
“Certainly; it is working all right.”
“That is all I want to know.”
The two gentlemen then descended to the apartment of Felix Davey and the latter, after adjusting the marble mantel, exclaimed, joyfully:
“Dubreuil, I should like to see the man who is able to discover all the ingenious devices, warning bells, net-works of electric wires and acoustic tubes, invisible passages, moving floors and hidden stairways. A real fairy-land!”
“What fame for Arsène Lupin!”
“Fame I could well dispense with. It’s a pity to be compelled to leave a place so well equipped, and commence all over again, Dubreuil ... and on a new model, of course, for it would never do to duplicate this. Curse Herlock Sholmes!”
“Has he returned to Paris?”
“How could he? There has been only one boat come from Southampton and it left there at midnight; only one train from Havre, leaving there at eight o’clock this morning and due in Paris at eleven fifteen. As he could not catch the midnight boat at Southampton — and the instructions to the captain on that point were explicit — he cannot reach France until this evening via Newhaven and Dieppe.”
“Do you think he will come back?”
“Yes; he never gives up. He will return to Paris; but it will be too late. We will be far away.”
“And Mademoiselle Destange?”
“I am to see her in an hour.”
“At her house?”
“Oh! no; she will not return there for several days. But you, Dubreuil, you must hurry. The loading of our goods will take a long time and you should be there to look after them.”
“Are you sure that we are not being watched?”
“By whom? I am not afraid of anyone but Sholmes.”
Dubreuil retired. Felix Davey made a last tour of the apartment, picked up two or three torn letters, then, noticing a piece of chalk, he took it and, on the dark paper of the drawing-room, drew a large frame and wrote within it the following:
“Arsène Lupin, gentleman-burglar, lived here for five years at the beginning of the twentieth century.”
This little pleasantry seemed to please him very much. He looked at it for a moment, whistling a lively air, then said to himself:
“Now that I have placed myself in touch with the historians of future generations, I can go. You must hurry, Herlock Sholmes, as I shall leave my present abode in three minutes, and your defeat will be an accomplished fact.... Two minutes more! you are keeping me waiting, Monsieur Sholmes.... One minute more! Are you not coming? Well, then, I proclaim your downfall and my apotheosis. And now I make my escape. Farewell, kingdom of Arsène Lupin! I shall never see you again. Farewell to the fifty-five rooms of the six apartments over which I reigned! Farewell, my own royal bed chamber!”
His outburst of joy was interrupted by the sharp ringing of a bell, which stopped twice, started again and then ceased. It was the alarm bell.
What was wrong? What unforeseen danger? Ganimard? No; that wasn’t possible!
He was on the point of returning to his library and making his escape. But, first, he went to the window. There was no one in the street. Was the enemy already in the house? He listened and thought he could discern certain confused sounds. He hesitated no longer. He ran to his library, and as he crossed the threshold he heard the noise of a key being inserted in the lock of the vestibule door.
“The deuce!” he murmured; “I have no time to lose. The house may be surrounded. The servants’ stairway — impossible! Fortunately, there is the chimney.”
He pushed the moulding; it did not move. He made a greater effort — still it refused to move. At the same time he had the impression that the door below opened and that he could hear footsteps.
“Good God!” he cried; “I am lost if this cursed mechanism—”
He pushed with all his strength. Nothing moved — nothing! By some incredible accident, by some evil stroke of fortune, the mechanism, which had worked only a few moments ago, would not work now.
He was furious. The block of marble remained immovable. He uttered frightful imprecations on the senseless stone. Was his escape to be prevented by that stupid obstacle? He struck the marble wildly, madly; he hammered it, he cursed it.
“Ah! what’s the matter, Monsieur Lupin? You seem to be displeased about something.”
Lupin turned around. Herlock Sholmes stood before him!
Herlock Sholmes!... Lupin gazed at him with squinting eyes as if his sight were defective and misleading. Herlock Sholmes in Paris! Herlock Sholmes, whom he had shipped to England only the day before as a dangerous person, now stood before him free and victorious!... Ah! such a thing was nothing less than a miracle; it was contrary to all natural laws; it was the culmination of all that is illogical and abnormal.... Herlock Sholmes here — before his face!
And when the Englishman spoke his words were tinged with that keen sarcasm and mocking politeness with which his adversary had so often lashed him. He said:
“Monsieur Lupin, in, the first place I have the honor to inform you that at this time and place I blot from my memory forever all thoughts of the miserable night that you forced me to endure in the house of Baron d’Hautrec, of the injury done to my friend Wilson, of my abduction in the automobile, and of the voyage I took yesterday under your orders, bound to a very uncomfortable couch. But the joy of this moment effaces all those bitter memories. I forgive everything. I forget everything — I wipe out the debt. I a
m paid — and royally paid.”
Lupin made no reply. So the Englishman continued:
“Don’t you think so yourself?”
He appeared to insist as if demanding an acquiescence, as a sort of receipt in regard to the part.
After a moment’s reflection, during which the Englishman felt that he was scrutinized to the very depth of his soul, Lupin declared:
“I presume, monsieur, that your conduct is based upon serious motives?”
“Very serious.”
“The fact that you have escaped from my captain and his crew is only a secondary incident of our struggle. But the fact that you are here before me alone — understand, alone — face to face with Arsène Lupin, leads me to think that your revenge is as complete as possible.”
“As complete as possible.”
“This house?”
“Surrounded.”
“The two adjoining houses?”
“Surrounded.”
“The apartment above this?”
“The three apartments on the fifth floor that were formerly occupied by Monsieur Dubreuil are surrounded.”
“So that — —”
“So that you are captured, Monsieur Lupin — absolutely captured.”
The feelings that Sholmes had experienced during his trip in the automobile were now suffered by Lupin, the same concentrated fury, the same revolt, and also, let us admit, the same loyalty of submission to force of circumstances. Equally brave in victory or defeat.
“Our accounts are squared, monsieur,” said Lupin, frankly.
The Englishman was pleased with that confession. After a short silence Lupin, now quite self-possessed, said smiling:
“And I am not sorry! It becomes monotonous to win all the time. Yesterday I had only to stretch out my hand to finish you forever. Today I belong to you. The game is yours.” Lupin laughed heartily and then continued: “At last the gallery will be entertained! Lupin in prison! How will he get out? In prison!... What an adventure!... Ah! Sholmes, life is just one damn thing after another!”
Delphi Collected Works of Maurice Leblanc (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Nine Book 17) Page 31
