“It’s preposterous!” he repeated.
“Why?”
“Why? Because, if the colonel had been Arsène Lupin’s accomplice, he would not have committed suicide after achieving his success.”
“Who says that he committed suicide?”
“Why, he was found dead on the line!”
“I told you, there is no such thing as death with Lupin.”
“Still, this was genuine enough. Besides, Mme. Sparmiento identified the body.”
“I thought you would say that, chief. The argument worried me too. There was I, all of a sudden, with three people in front of me instead of one: first, Arsène Lupin, cracksman; secondly, Colonel Sparmiento, his accomplice; thirdly, a dead man. Spare us! It was too much of a good thing!”
Ganimard took a bundle of newspapers, untied it and handed one of them to Mr. Dudouis:
“You remember, chief, last time you were here, I was looking through the papers.... I wanted to see if something had not happened, at that period, that might bear upon the case and confirm my supposition. Please read this paragraph.”
M. Dudouis took the paper and read aloud:
“Our Lille correspondent informs us that a curious incident has occurred in that town. A corpse has disappeared from the local morgue, the corpse of a man unknown who threw himself under the wheels of a steam tram-car on the day before. No one is able to suggest a reason for this disappearance.”
M. Dudouis sat thinking and then asked:
“So ... you believe ...?”
“I have just come from Lille,” replied Ganimard, “and my inquiries leave not a doubt in my mind. The corpse was removed on the same night on which Colonel Sparmiento gave his house-warming. It was taken straight to Ville d’Avray by motor-car; and the car remained near the railway-line until the evening.”
“Near the tunnel, therefore,” said M. Dudouis.
“Next to it, chief.”
“So that the body which was found is merely that body, dressed in Colonel Sparmiento’s clothes.”
“Precisely, chief.”
“Then Colonel Sparmiento is not dead?”
“No more dead than you or I, chief.”
“But then why all these complications? Why the theft of one tapestry, followed by its recovery, followed by the theft of the twelve? Why that house-warming? Why that disturbance? Why everything? Your story won’t hold water, Ganimard.”
“Only because you, chief, like myself, have stopped halfway; because, strange as this story already sounds, we must go still farther, very much farther, in the direction of the improbable and the astounding. And why not, after all? Remember that we are dealing with Arsène Lupin. With him, is it not always just the improbable and the astounding that we must look for? Must we not always go straight for the maddest suppositions? And, when I say the maddest, I am using the wrong word. On the contrary, the whole thing is wonderfully logical and so simple that a child could understand it. Confederates only betray you. Why employ confederates, when it is so easy and so natural to act for yourself, by yourself, with your own hands and by the means within your own reach?”
“What are you saying?... What are you saying?... What are you saying?” cried M. Dudouis, in a sort of sing-song voice and a tone of bewilderment that increased with each separate exclamation.
Ganimard gave a fresh chuckle.
“Takes your breath away, chief, doesn’t it? So it did mine, on the day when you came to see me here and when the notion was beginning to grow upon me. I was flabbergasted with astonishment. And yet I’ve had experience of my customer. I know what he’s capable of.... But this, no, this was really a bit too stiff!”
“It’s impossible! It’s impossible!” said M. Dudouis, in a low voice.
“On the contrary, chief, it’s quite possible and quite logical and quite normal. It’s the threefold incarnation of one and the same individual. A schoolboy would solve the problem in a minute, by a simple process of elimination. Take away the dead man: there remains Sparmiento and Lupin. Take away Sparmiento....”
“There remains Lupin,” muttered the chief-detective.
“Yes, chief, Lupin simply, Lupin in five letters and two syllables, Lupin taken out of his Brazilian skin, Lupin revived from the dead, Lupin translated, for the past six months, into Colonel Sparmiento, travelling in Brittany, hearing of the discovery of the twelve tapestries, buying them, planning the theft of the best of them, so as to draw attention to himself, Lupin, and divert it from himself, Sparmiento. Next, he brings about, in full view of the gaping public, a noisy contest between Lupin and Sparmiento or Sparmiento and Lupin, plots and gives the house-warming party, terrifies his guests and, when everything is ready, arranges for Lupin to steal Sparmiento’s tapestries and for Sparmiento, Lupin’s victim, to disappear from sight and die unsuspected, unsuspectable, regretted by his friends, pitied by the public and leaving behind him, to pocket the profits of the swindle....”
Ganimard stopped, looked the chief in the eyes and, in a voice that emphasized the importance of his words, concluded:
“Leaving behind him a disconsolate widow.”
“Mme. Sparmiento! You really believe....?
“Hang it all!” said the chief-inspector. “People don’t work up a whole business of this sort, without seeing something ahead of them ... solid profits.”
“But the profits, it seems to me, lie in the sale of the tapestries which Lupin will effect in America or elsewhere.”
“First of all, yes. But Colonel Sparmiento could effect that sale just as well. And even better. So there’s something more.”
“Something more?”
“Come, chief, you’re forgetting that Colonel Sparmiento has been the victim of an important robbery and that, though he may be dead, at least his widow remains. So it’s his widow who will get the money.”
“What money?”
“What money? Why, the money due to her! The insurance-money, of course!”
M. Dudouis was staggered. The whole business suddenly became clear to him, with its real meaning. He muttered:
“That’s true!... That’s true!... The colonel had insured his tapestries....”
“Rather! And for no trifle either.”
“For how much?”
“Eight hundred thousand francs.”
“Eight hundred thousand?”
“Just so. In five different companies.”
“And has Mme. Sparmiento had the money?”
“She got a hundred and fifty thousand francs yesterday and two hundred thousand to-day, while I was away. The remaining payments are to be made in the course of this week.”
“But this is terrible! You ought to have....”
“What, chief? To begin with, they took advantage of my absence to settle up accounts with the companies. I only heard about it on my return when I ran up against an insurance-manager whom I happen to know and took the opportunity of drawing him out.”
The chief-detective was silent for some time, not knowing what to say. Then he mumbled:
“What a fellow, though!”
Ganimard nodded his head:
“Yes, chief, a blackguard, but, I can’t help saying, a devil of a clever fellow. For his plan to succeed, he must have managed in such a way that, for four or five weeks, no one could express or even conceive the least suspicion of the part played by Colonel Sparmiento. All the indignation and all the inquiries had to be concentrated upon Lupin alone. In the last resort, people had to find themselves faced simply with a mournful, pitiful, penniless widow, poor Edith Swan-neck, a beautiful and legendary vision, a creature so pathetic that the gentlemen of the insurance-companies were almost glad to place something in her hands to relieve her poverty and her grief. That’s what was wanted and that’s what happened.”
The two men were close together and did not take their eyes from each other’s faces.
The chief asked:
“Who is that woman?”
“Sonia Kritchnoff.”
&
nbsp; “Sonia Kritchnoff?”
“Yes, the Russian girl whom I arrested last year at the time of the theft of the coronet, and whom Lupin helped to escape.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I was put off the scent, like everybody else, by Lupin’s machinations, and had paid no particular attention to her. But, when I knew the part which she was playing, I remembered. She is certainly Sonia, metamorphosed into an Englishwoman; Sonia, the most innocent-looking and the trickiest of actresses; Sonia, who would not hesitate to face death for love of Lupin.”
“A good capture, Ganimard,” said M. Dudouis, approvingly.
“I’ve something better still for you, chief!”
“Really? What?”
“Lupin’s old foster-mother.”
“Victoire?”
“She has been here since Mme. Sparmiento began playing the widow; she’s the cook.”
“Oho!” said M. Dudouis. “My congratulations, Ganimard!”
“I’ve something for you, chief, that’s even better than that!”
M. Dudouis gave a start. The inspector’s hand clutched his and was shaking with excitement.
“What do you mean, Ganimard?”
“Do you think, chief, that I would have brought you here, at this late hour, if I had had nothing more attractive to offer you than Sonia and Victoire? Pah! They’d have kept!”
“You mean to say ...?” whispered M. Dudouis, at last, understanding the chief-inspector’s agitation.
“You’ve guessed it, chief!”
“Is he here?”
“He’s here.”
“In hiding?”
“Not a bit of it. Simply in disguise. He’s the man-servant.”
This time, M. Dudouis did not utter a word nor make a gesture. Lupin’s audacity confounded him.
Ganimard chuckled.
“It’s no longer a threefold, but a fourfold incarnation. Edith Swan-neck might have blundered. The master’s presence was necessary; and he had the cheek to return. For three weeks, he has been beside me during my inquiry, calmly following the progress made.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“One doesn’t recognize him. He has a knack of making-up his face and altering the proportions of his body so as to prevent any one from knowing him. Besides, I was miles from suspecting.... But, this evening, as I was watching Sonia in the shadow of the stairs, I heard Victoire speak to the man-servant and call him, ‘Dearie.’ A light flashed in upon me. ‘Dearie!’ That was what she always used to call him. And I knew where I was.”
M. Dudouis seemed flustered, in his turn, by the presence of the enemy, so often pursued and always so intangible:
“We’ve got him, this time,” he said, between his teeth. “We’ve got him; and he can’t escape us.”
“No, chief, he can’t: neither he nor the two women.”
“Where are they?”
“Sonia and Victoire are on the second floor; Lupin is on the third.”
M. Dudouis suddenly became anxious:
“Why, it was through the windows of one of those floors that the tapestries were passed when they disappeared!”
“That’s so, chief.”
“In that case, Lupin can get away too. The windows look out on the Rue Dufresnoy.”
“Of course they do, chief; but I have taken my precautions. The moment you arrived, I sent four of our men to keep watch under the windows in the Rue Dufresnoy. They have strict instructions to shoot, if any one appears at the windows and looks like coming down. Blank cartridges for the first shot, ball-cartridges for the next.”
“Good, Ganimard! You have thought of everything. We’ll wait here; and, immediately after sunrise....”
“Wait, chief? Stand on ceremony with that rascal? Bother about rules and regulations, legal hours and all that rot? And suppose he’s not quite so polite to us and gives us the slip meanwhile? Suppose he plays us one of his Lupin tricks? No, no, we must have no nonsense! We’ve got him: let’s collar him; and that without delay!”
And Ganimard, all a-quiver with indignant impatience, went out, walked across the garden and presently returned with half-a-dozen men:
“It’s all right, chief. I’ve told them, in the Rue Dufresnoy, to get their revolvers out and aim at the windows. Come along.”
These alarums and excursions had not been effected without a certain amount of noise, which was bound to be heard by the inhabitants of the house. M. Dudouis felt that his hand was forced. He made up his mind to act:
“Come on, then,” he said.
The thing did not take long. The eight of them, Browning pistols in hand, went up the stairs without overmuch precaution, eager to surprise Lupin before he had time to organize his defences.
“Open the door!” roared Ganimard, rushing at the door of Mme. Sparmiento’s bedroom.
A policeman smashed it in with his shoulder.
There was no one in the room; and no one in Victoire’s bedroom either.
“They’re all upstairs!” shouted Ganimard. “They’ve gone up to Lupin in his attic. Be careful now!”
All the eight ran up the third flight of stairs. To his great astonishment, Ganimard found the door of the attic open and the attic empty. And the other rooms were empty too.
“Blast them!” he cursed. “What’s become of them?”
But the chief called him. M. Dudouis, who had gone down again to the second floor, noticed that one of the windows was not latched, but just pushed to:
“There,” he said, to Ganimard, “that’s the road they took, the road of the tapestries. I told you as much: the Rue Dufresnoy....”
“But our men would have fired on them,” protested Ganimard, grinding his teeth with rage. “The street’s guarded.”
“They must have gone before the street was guarded.”
“They were all three of them in their rooms when I rang you up, chief!”
“They must have gone while you were waiting for me in the garden.”
“But why? Why? There was no reason why they should go to-day rather than to-morrow, or the next day, or next week, for that matter, when they had pocketed all the insurance-money!”
Yes, there was a reason; and Ganimard knew it when he saw, on the table, a letter addressed to himself and opened it and read it. The letter was worded in the style of the testimonials which we hand to people in our service who have given satisfaction:
“I, the undersigned, Arsène Lupin, gentleman-burglar, ex-colonel, ex-man-of-all-work, ex-corpse, hereby certify that the person of the name of Ganimard gave proof of the most remarkable qualities during his stay in this house. He was exemplary in his behaviour, thoroughly devoted and attentive; and, unaided by the least clue, he foiled a part of my plans and saved the insurance-companies four hundred and fifty thousand francs. I congratulate him; and I am quite willing to overlook his blunder in not anticipating that the downstairs telephone communicates with the telephone in Sonia Kritchnoff’s bedroom and that, when telephoning to Mr. Chief-detective, he was at the same time telephoning to me to clear out as fast as I could. It was a pardonable slip, which must not be allowed to dim the glamour of his services nor to detract from the merits of his victory.
“Having said this, I beg him to accept the homage of my admiration and of my sincere friendship.
“Arsène Lupin”
The Shell Shard
OR, THE WOMAN OF MYSTERY
Anonymous translation, 1916
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. THE MURDER
CHAPTER II. THE LOCKED ROOM
CHAPTER III. THE CALL TO ARMS
CHAPTER IV. A LETTER FROM ÉLISABETH
CHAPTER V. THE PEASANT-WOMAN AT CORVIGNY
CHAPTER VI. WHAT PAUL SAW AT ORNEQUIN
CHAPTER VII. H. E. R. M.
CHAPTER VIII. ÉLISABETH’S DIARY
CHAPTER IX. A SPRIG OF EMPIRE
CHAPTER X. 75 OR 155?
CHAPTER XI. “YSERY, MISERY”
CHAPTER XI
I. MAJOR HERMANN
CHAPTER XIII. THE FERRYMAN’S HOUSE
CHAPTER XIV. A MASTERPIECE OF KULTUR
CHAPTER XV. PRINCE CONRAD MAKES MERRY
CHAPTER XVI. THE IMPOSSIBLE STRUGGLE
CHAPTER XVII. THE LAW OF THE CONQUEROR
CHAPTER XVIII. HILL 132
CHAPTER XIX. HOHENZOLLERN
CHAPTER XX. THE DEATH PENALTY — AND A CAPITAL PUNISHMENT
The original frontispiece
CHAPTER I. THE MURDER
“SUPPOSE I WERE to tell you,” said Paul Delroze, “that I once stood face to face with him on French. . . .”
Élisabeth looked up at him with the fond expression of a bride to whom the least word of the man she loves is a subject of wonder:
“You have seen William II. in France?”
“Saw him with my own eyes; and I have never forgotten a single one of the details that marked the meeting. And yet it happened very long ago.”
He was speaking with a sudden seriousness, as though the revival of that memory had awakened the most painful thoughts in his mind.
“Tell me about it, won’t you, Paul?” asked Élisabeth.
“Yes, I will,” he said. “In any case, though I was only a child at the time, the incident played so tragic a part in my life that I am bound to tell you the whole story.”
The train stopped and they got out at Corvigny, the last station on the local branch line which, starting from the chief town in the department, runs through the Liseron Valley and ends, fifteen miles from the frontier, at the foot of the little Lorraine city which Vauban, as he tells us in his “Memoirs,” surrounded “with the most perfect demilunes imaginable.”
The railway-station presented an appearance of unusual animation. There were numbers of soldiers, including many officers. A crowd of passengers — tradespeople, peasants, workmen and visitors to the neighboring health-resorts served by Corvigny — stood amid piles of luggage on the platform, awaiting the departure of the next train for the junction.
It was the last Thursday in July, the Thursday before the mobilization of the French army.
Élisabeth pressed up against her husband:
Delphi Collected Works of Maurice Leblanc (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Nine Book 17) Page 163
