Sherlock Holmes and the Boulevard Assassin

by John Hall

  As I stood there hesitating, a gendarme strolled past. He slowed as he passed me, and looked me up and down with a rather insolent stare. I might have been offended, but I realized that Dubuque’s hat was about the only item of my attire that was halfway respectable, for I had not changed my other clothes. To disarm any natural suspicion the policeman might have had, I asked him, ‘Is this the house of Monsieur Huret, if you please?’

  ‘Why, yes,’ said he, sounding surprised.

  ‘Thank you.’ I made as if to enter the gates, but slowed down and looked back as I reached them. The gendarme was still looking suspiciously after me. If he had moved along, I should perhaps have turned back and continued down the road myself, but as it was, with that cold stare at my back, I felt obliged to go up to the huge door and ring the bell.

  It was opened by an elderly and very proper butler, who looked at me much as the gendarme had done. I half expected to be told that the tradesmen’s entrance was round the back, but he merely asked, ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is Monsieur Huret at home?’

  ‘I regret he is not.’

  ‘Mademoiselle Huret, then?’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘No-one is at home, Monsieur.’ The door started to close.

  ‘Monsieur Constantine?’

  ‘I know no-one of that name, I regret.’ The door continued its progress towards me.

  ‘One moment, if you please!’ I cried. ‘I have an important message for Monsieur Huret – you could not tell me where he might be at the moment?’

  ‘I regret I cannot.’ He practically sneered at me, ‘Monsieur Huret does not always feel obliged to confide in me, you understand!’ The door closed firmly in my face.

  I stood on the step for a long moment, wondering whether I ought not to have produced my revolver and demanded admittance. Perhaps so. But it was too late for that now. And, in any case, Huret may have known nothing of Constantine – his butler had denied knowing the name. Disconsolate, at a complete loss as to what to do next, I trudged wearily down the drive and into the street. I might just as well return to Dubuque’s apartment and rest, thought I, and looked around for a cab.

  A tall man brushed past me, and I mumbled an apology. He half turned, bowed, and then – quite unexpectedly – asked, ‘Doctor Watson, is it not?’

  I was astounded! I tried to stammer out a denial, but before I could utter more than two words my arms were seized by a couple of men who had evidently come up behind me. A callused hand was clamped over my mouth, and I was lifted bodily into a cab, which set off at a cracking pace.

  The tall man – whom I now recognized as the man I had bumped into outside the Huret mansion two days before – searched me, whilst the others held me down. He soon found my revolver, and then ordered the others to release me. I sat up, and looked down the barrel of my own pistol.

  ‘Now, Doctor Watson. I think it is time we had a little talk!’

  ‘It is indeed, Jupin,’ said I, as calmly as I could manage, for I had now recovered my wits sufficiently to recognize the aristocratic profile and the waxed moustache as belonging to France’s most famous thief. In my own defence I should mention that I had only seen him once or twice, and then but briefly, before then, although I had seen his photograph a couple of times. And he was, besides, almost as great a master of disguise as Holmes himself.

  Jupin bowed as well as was possible inside the cab. ‘Now the formalities are over, perhaps you would oblige me by telling me what the devil is happening?’

  ‘Damned if I know!’ I told him frankly. ‘I was hoping you might tell me!’

  Jupin looked at me for a long time. ‘I think you are telling the truth,’ said he at length. ‘Very well, we shall pool our knowledge. I have had you followed, of course, ever since you came to France – ’

  ‘What!’

  Jupin shrugged. ‘The customs examination, you understand? Such a great quantity of tobacco could not fail to attract the attention of my man at the station!’

  ‘Holmes and his infernal smoking! Well, you followed us – what then?’

  ‘I tell you plainly, Doctor, that I was puzzled. First, I think you are here to track down me, Arsène Jupin! That is only natural – I am, after all, the most famous thief in all France! But then you went to an anarchist meeting, and the police raided the place. Ah, I thought, Mr Holmes and the good doctor, they have come to Paris to smash the anarchist ring! But then you disappeared. Very well, they have returned to England, I think. But then I stroll to the Bois, with a lady – and who do I see but Doctor Watson, also with a lady? Ahah, I say – this is the Doctor Watson I know! But wait! I wonder – the excellent Doctor Watson, he is known as a man about town, a dandy, one would say, his costume is always of the neatest – so why then is he dressed like the character in his famous story of “The Pox-doctor’s Clerk”?’

  ‘It was “The Stock-broker’s Clerk”, in point of fact, Jupin.’

  ‘It is all the same!’

  ‘And I thought my apparel quite smart,’ I added.

  ‘I say to myself – “There is something strange in all this!” I would follow again, but I have business, you comprehend? Now, my business is just this – I have my eye on a certain jeweller’s shop, in the Place Vendôme. My man, who watches the place, tells me that two of the biggest rogues in all Paris are there – and dressed as gendarmes! Ohoh, I tell myself – this is droll, is it not? I take one of my best men, and he and I, we dress as gendarmes too! To see the fun, you comprehend? But then, I see Monsieur Holmes enter the shop, and steal the diamonds! And the rogues, they pursue! But this is a novelty! Very well, Arsène Jupin also likes his little joke! I arrest Holmes, and I take the diamonds!’ And he patted his pocket complacently.

  ‘You villain! You struck Holmes!’

  ‘What of it? Monsieur Holmes; and you, Doctor; and I – we are not academics, we are not intellectuals – a little tap on the head, it does us no harm! But still I am puzzled. I change my uniform for more elegant apparel, I hide in a doorway, I follow once again. I see Monsieur Holmes dragged from that unsavoury bistro. But where is Doctor Watson? I search, I find you in the alley – I tell you, mon ami, I was anxious! But you too have the thick skull, and I see you are unhurt. You may say I was wrong to leave you there, but I am concerned as to what will happen next. So I send a note to Monsieur Dubuque, and again I watch and follow! And then you call at the house of Monsieur Huret, one of the richest, most famous men in Paris. By now, my curiosity is too great for me to wait further, so I invite you for a little chat!’

  ‘As to the latest affair,’ said I, ‘it is simple enough. I was looking for Holmes, and I thought this Huret may know where he is.’

  ‘But Monsieur Holmes is hardly to be found at the house of Monsieur Huret!’

  ‘So Dubuque said.’ I looked at Jupin, aware of an odd look on his face. ‘Jupin, do you know where Holmes is at this moment?’

  ‘But of course! He is in the Avenue Kléber, kept prisoner at the house of Monsieur Duclos!

  ‘What!’ My head – not for the first time – swam. ‘Duclos, you say?’

  ‘In the Avenue Kléber. We can go there, if you wish.’ And he called an instruction to the cabbie.

  ‘Duclos?’ said I again. ‘Are you sure, Jupin? Not “Constantine”?’

  ‘Well,’ said Jupin with a shrug, ‘he is Monsieur Constantine Duclos, after all!’

  ‘Ah! Then we have him! Tell me, Jupin, what do you know of this Constantine Duclos?’

  ‘I know he is a rich man, mon vieux! Also, he is one of the greatest villains in all Paris! But he is clever, you comprehend – he hides his villainy under a cloak of good works. And he is not a very nice man; not a likeable rogue, you understand – not like Arsène Jupin!’

  ‘Quite so. Would it perhaps surprise you to know that this fellow Duclos is the head – or the second in command, I should say – of a gang which plans to take control of France?’

  Jupin thought this over. ‘No,’ he said at last, ‘frankly it would not su
rprise me! He is corrupt, ambitious – but that is a big plan, a high ambition, even for him! You say he is second in command only, though? Who, then, is the first?’

  ‘I believe it to be none other than this Huret fellow!’

  Jupin shook his head, just as Dubuque had done. ‘I cannot agree with you there, old friend – Huret, he is above suspicion! I, Arsène Jupin, I tell you this! I would know, I say, if he were a rogue! What do you English say – “It takes one to know one”, is it not?’ He leaned forward and looked directly at me. ‘But this other affair – that is different! I have noticed that there is a gang at work – more than once they have interfered with my own plans, and that annoys me! But to take over France? That is worse! I am – they tell me – a villain! But, Doctor, I am a loyal Frenchman! If this Duclos fellow is planning a coup then I, Arsène Jupin, shall join forces with you – and Monsieur Holmes – to foil him! Thus we shall save France – and remove this other gang, these villains who would spoil the sport of Arsène Jupin! What say you to a truce?’

  ‘Gladly!’ I told him, holding out my hand.

  Jupin shook my proffered hand, then slapped my revolver into it. ‘A token of good faith!’ said he. He nodded out of the window. ‘You may need your pistol,’ he added carelessly, ‘for this is the house of Monsieur Duclos!’

  We got down from the cab, and I looked at the house with some interest. It was perhaps not so large nor so grand as that of Huret, but it was imposing enough. Under different circumstances, I might have hesitated; but if I had honest doubts as to Huret, I had none at all as to Constantine – or Duclos, as I now knew him to be – and I set off up the drive, Jupin following. I moved cautiously around the front of the house, and was delighted that I could recognize the side door and coach house as being those I had seen when Holmes and I were here earlier.

  ‘This is the place?’ said Jupin, seeing my face.

  ‘I am sure of it! I do not know just what we may find,’ I added. ‘There may be some danger!’

  ‘Poof ! En avant!’

  I returned to the front door. Taking a firm grip on my revolver with one hand, I rang the bell with the other. After what seemed an age, the door swung open, and I pointed my pistol at none other than my old friend Georges.

  ‘Hello, old chap!’ I told him.

  ‘Monsieur! But what – ’

  ‘No time for that, now,’ said I, brushing past him and entering the house. ‘Is Monsieur Constantine – or Monsieur Duclos, or whatever he may be calling himself today – is he at home, then?’

  ‘I regret, Monsieur, he is not. Perhaps you would care to wait, or to leave your card?’

  ‘Wait? I think not, Georges. No time, you understand? As for a card, well, I seem to be quite out of them. No, this – ’ and I waved my revolver at him – ‘this will have to serve as an introduction. This is Monsieur Jupin, whose reputation may be known to you. He has no card either, but he has his own revolver! Now, is there anyone in the house?’

  ‘No-one, Monsieur! I assure you – ’

  ‘No, Georges, it is I who assure you – I assure you that we are going through this house together, the three of us – with you in the lead, in case we should chance upon something unpleasant and unexpected. And I further assure you, my friend, that if I have the least cause to be suspicious of your behaviour, I shall shoot you. And if by some chance I cannot shoot you, why, then Monsieur Jupin will! Is that understood?’

  ‘Why, why, yes, Monsieur,’ he stammered.

  ‘I think we might usefully begin with the room in which Holmes – that is, my friend – and I spent so many happy hours,’ and I urged him towards the stairs.

  Georges seemed to entertain grave doubts about the whole enterprise, but with the threat of my revolver and the toe of my boot alike I propelled him upstairs until we stood before the door of the room which Holmes and I had formerly occupied. The key was in the lock on the outside. ‘Is the door locked?’ I asked.

  ‘I do not know, Monsieur.’

  ‘Stand aside.’ I rattled the handle of the door, which was indeed locked. ‘Unlock it!’ I told Georges.

  He did so.

  ‘Now open the door and go in – but be careful what you do!’

  Georges timidly pushed the door open and took a step or two into the room. ‘Why – Monsieur!’ he cried, with every indication of astonishment.

  I followed him inside, and was horrified to see Holmes’s inert figure lying, bound and gagged, upon the bed!

  ‘You villain!’ I cried at the unfortunate Georges. ‘Untie him at once! By heaven, if anything has happened – ’

  ‘But, Monsieur! I assure you, I know nothing of this! Monsieur Constantine, he gives me the orders, do not unlock – ’

  ‘Untie him, I say! This instant!’

  Georges’ fingers were trembling too much to be of any use, and so Jupin untied Holmes, who sat up with some difficulty and rubbed his arms where the ropes had bitten in.

  ‘Monsieur Jupin! This is a pleasure! Delightful to see you, Watson!’ said he, with his old liveliness unabated. ‘I will be honest – I had all but given you up for dead!’

  ‘Takes more than a tap on the head to kill me, Holmes! Let’s get you out of here – we cannot say when this rogue Duclos may return with his cohorts – or his master.’

  ‘Duclos?’

  ‘Constantine Duclos, Holmes. That is his name.’ To Georges, I added, ‘You, old friend, must spend some time locked in here, I am afraid, at least until Duclos – or the police – can release you. I shall not, however, tie you up.’

  ‘But, Monsieur!’

  ‘That is to say, I shall not tie you up provided that you behave yourself!’

  ‘Monsieur – ’

  I ignored him, and Jupin and I helped Holmes out on to the landing, locking the unfortunate Georges in the room. ‘He may indeed be innocent,’ I told Holmes, ‘but it is as well to be sure.’

  ‘But how on earth did you know I was here?’ Holmes wanted to know. ‘And, for that matter, how did you find the house at all? And you, Jupin, what part have you in all this?’

  ‘All in good time.’ I offered him my arm, but he refused, saying that he was well enough.

  ‘Perhaps a glass of Monsieur Duclos’s excellent cognac would not come amiss, though,’ he added. ‘And some food. I have not eaten or drunk anything since last I saw you.’

  I took him into the kitchen, and set some bread and cheese before him. Whilst he began work on that, I took a quick look round the rest of the house, but it was empty – not so much as a parlourmaid could I find. I took a decanter, three glasses and a cigarette box into the kitchen.

  ‘Ah,’ said Holmes. ‘A cigarette! Help yourself to brandy,’ he added sardonically, as I poured generous measures.

  ‘I shall, Holmes, never fear! Best thing in the world for shock, you know! If you had given me up for dead, I in turn had no idea what those rogues might have done to you. Indeed, it might be as well if we did not linger too long over our brandy, for we cannot say when Duclos might come back.’

  ‘I think we have a few minutes,’ said Holmes thoughtfully, ‘for I gathered from what I managed to overhear that some great action is in prospect. Would to heaven that I knew what it might be, and where it is to take place!’

  ‘You have no idea at all?’

  ‘They were careful not to say too much, even with me in my helpless state. But you did not tell me how you found me.’

  ‘It was nothing,’ said I, with what modesty I could manage. ‘Jupin’s doing, in fact.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘But I have not been idle, Holmes! I found a clue when we were here last, but I did not understand its meaning until just lately. Then there was a girl – ’

  ‘Ahah!’

  ‘She led me to the truth, indirectly, Holmes! It was her name which enabled me to work out the clue, so to speak!’

  ‘Ah. Then everything was for the best, after all.’ Holmes looked at Jupin. ‘You look sceptical, my friend.’

&n
bsp; ‘Ah, Doctor Watson, he has some strange ideas!’

  ‘Well,’ said Holmes, ‘I shall insist on the full details later, of course, but the main thing now is to find this mysterious “chief”, and then to see if we cannot deduce what he and Duclos have in mind.’

  ‘Oh, I quite forgot! The excitement, you know! I myself am convinced that the “chief” is a man called Huret. I am certain of that, although Dubuque and Jupin have some reservations – ’

  ‘What!’

  ‘Dubuque and Jupin have some – ’

  ‘No! I meant, the name of this head of the gang! Huret, you say?’

  ‘I am certain of it, Holmes.’

  ‘But how on earth – ’

  ‘His crest was on a note – a bit of paper, I should say – that I found in the room upstairs. The rest of the note was gone, so I attached no real importance to it.’

  Holmes subsided. ‘And you have tried Duclos’s tailor, then? His wine merchant?’ he asked with heavy sarcasm.

  ‘Holmes?’

  ‘A note! Part of a note, rather! It is surely a slender clue, Watson! Part of a note from this man Huret to Duclos! If the note had been there, and if it had been incriminating – then, of course – ’

  ‘You are right, mon ami!’ said Jupin, delighted. ‘I tell the doctor here, no, you are mistaken. Dubuque, he has said the same thing!’

  Holmes looked hard at me.

  ‘Nevertheless, Holmes,’ said I, reluctant as always to abandon my own theory, ‘this Huret knows Duclos! At the very least, he is what Lestrade would call “an associate of known criminals”. If Huret’s butler had been more forthcoming, I am confident I should have made more progress! Still, as things turned out, our friend Jupin here found me, and brought me to you.’