by John Hall
‘And very glad I am that you are here, my dear fellow!’
‘What next, Holmes? It seems to me that we have not got very far after all.’
‘Well, at least I am untied, Watson, so I should have said that you did excellently, old friend!’
I mumbled something appropriate in response to this unaccustomed compliment.
‘For the rest,’ Holmes went on, ‘I agree that we appear to have little enough to work with. We know that something is happening, and this very day – but we do not know what or where. On the credit side, however, we are at liberty – ’
‘And armed,’ said I, showing him my revolver.
‘ – and armed, and we have the run of Duclos’s house, for I do not think there is anyone here save old Georges.’
‘Yes! We must search the place!’
Holmes nodded, and got up. ‘We must.’
Search the place we did, but with only mixed success. There was nothing that might be called incriminating, or even mildly suspicious. Even in a room which Duclos evidently used as a study, there was nothing out of the ordinary. However, in the study we did find several letters – all innocuous, invitations and the like – addressed to a ‘Monsieur Constantine Duclos’.
Holmes nodded at Jupin. ‘He called himself “Monsieur Constantine”.’
‘And “Constantine” is indeed his first name. Simple, but effective, is it not?’
‘Indeed.’
‘One thing bothers me, though, Holmes,’ said I. ‘I can see why there is nothing here that might tie him to the gang, that is clear enough, he wants to keep up the façade of respectability.’
‘And he has succeeded – and would still succeed, Watson. We have found nothing here; Dubuque, were he to search, would find nothing.’
I nodded. ‘That is all very well, Holmes. But then why did this – Duclos, as we now know him to be – why did he risk giving the whole game away by bringing us, two anarchists, for all he knew, back here?’
‘Ah, but then he was flustered, Watson! He had just seen me kill three policemen, you remember! He might, it is true, have taken us to the bistro, the regular meeting place, but it was evening, Jean-Paul and the rest would not be there. No, this Monsieur Constantine Duclos decided to hide us here, thinking that we would be gone next day – as we were – and that we could never discover his real identity. And he was almost right – but he had not reckoned with Doctor John H Watson! Or with Monsieur Arsène Jupin!’
Two compliments in one day! I was so staggered that I was obliged to take another glass of brandy. ‘We might question Georges,’ I said.
‘Oh, I think that would be pointless. Georges is a servant of the old school, trained to turn a blind eye to his master’s little secrets and indiscretions. You could interrogate him for a week without learning anything of any value.’
‘You may be right, Holmes, but it is surely worth – ’ and I broke off as there was a loud knocking at the front door. I looked at Holmes. ‘Duclos?’
‘It may be. Are you ready?’
I nodded, and took out my pistol. We made our way to the door, and Holmes looked a question at Jupin, then at me.
We nodded, and Holmes pulled the door open. There stood Dubuque, with a couple of uniformed gendarmes.
Dubuque looked at me, then at Holmes, and finally at Jupin. ‘I had expected to find Doctor Watson here,’ said he, ‘but to find Monsieur Holmes as well – that is an unexpected pleasure! And – of all people – Monsieur Arsène Jupin!’
‘Dubuque!’ said I. ‘How did you find us?’
‘I returned to the apartment with my news, but you were not there. I think, where can he be? Monsieur Holmes, Doctor Watson, they are not the only ones who can reason things out, n’est-ce pas? Dubuque, he too can make the deductions. I say to myself, the Doctor has promised not to go to Monsieur Huret’s house, he has sworn not to disturb Monsieur Huret, so that is undoubtedly what he plans to do!’
‘I don’t see – ’ I began.
Dubuque waved this aside. ‘Very well! I go to Monsieur Huret’s house. I see the butler – has a man of such-and-such a description been there? Of course, Monsieur, but he has left! I think furiously, mes amis! Tell me, I ask the butler, does Monsieur Huret perhaps know another gentleman, a Monsieur Constantine? He looks at me. He frowns. Does Monsieur perhaps mean Monsieur Constantine Duclos? All is clear! I think – Constantine Duclos! Constantine! The mysterious Constantine, at long last! I tell you, my friends, I had my doubts as to this Constantine’s very existence, but now I believe everything! I ask the butler – the address? He tells me, and I come here at once.’
‘Well,’ said Holmes, ‘I am delighted to see you. Watson here has told me something of what has happened, although I must confess I am not absolutely clear as to all the finer details. But I understand that Watson has a suspicion that this man Huret is somehow involved. We must do two things, I think. First, we must set men here to wait for this Constantine Duclos, for we know for a fact that he is involved – these men of yours can do that, Dubuque. And second, the four of us must return to Huret’s house at once and confront him, get him to give some account of himself.’
‘I regret, Monsieur Holmes, that that will be impossible,’ said Dubuque, with some evident embarrassment.
‘Oh? And why, pray?’
‘Because – I beg you will believe that I regret it most deeply – I must ask you to accompany me to the Palais de Justice. Monsieur Holmes, you are under arrest!’
TWELVE
‘Under arrest?’ said Holmes, looking at Dubuque blankly.
‘But of course!’
‘And what the devil for? Upon what charge?’
‘Why, the jewel theft in the Place Vendôme!’ said Dubuque.
‘Oh, that!’ Holmes seemed to recover some of his old equanimity. He smiled at me mischievously. ‘I thought Watson and Jupin would have explained all that to you – they seem to have solved everything else between them!’
‘Holmes does not have the diamonds!’ I told Dubuque.
‘But then – ah!’ Dubuque looked at Jupin, and then at the two gendarmes. Jupin seemed to tense himself, for all the world like a tiger about to spring.
‘Jupin,’ said I, ‘we must work together now! For France!’
Jupin considered this. ‘You are right,’ he said. He took a morocco leather case from his jacket, and handed it to Dubuque with an elaborate bow.
Dubuque opened the case, glanced at the contents, then bowed to Jupin in his turn before putting the case carefully in his pocket. ‘That at least is something!’ said he. ‘But still, you understand – the examining magistrate – he must be informed at once. He must be told what has happened, and then it is up to him. Now that the diamonds are recovered, one or two small matters, small discrepancies, so to speak, may be overlooked.’
‘It will all become clear,’ said Holmes. ‘Of course, it would become clear a good deal quicker if we could but lay our hands on this Duclos, or this other fellow – Huret, is it?’
‘As to that,’ said Dubuque indifferently, ‘Monsieur Huret is with the Minister of Justice. A private meeting. That was my news, that was why I returned to my apartment to see Doctor Watson. To tell him how silly were all his suspicions of Monsieur Huret!’
‘Huret is meeting the Minister of Justice?’ asked Holmes.
‘Of course! They are having luncheon, and then will talk, one has no doubt, over the brandy and cigars. As I told the Doctor, Monsieur Huret is an important man, a man very close to the government.’
Holmes looked rather ruefully at me. ‘One’s deductions cannot always be correct, Watson,’ said he. ‘At least we shall have this Duclos fellow, or Constantine as he called himself.’ He looked at Dubuque. ‘We shall have him, shall we not?’
‘Oh, without a doubt! He has kidnapped you, after all!’
‘And the other business – his involvement with the gang?’ asked Holmes.
Dubuque looked embarrassed. ‘You have proof?’
The look of embarrassment on Dubuque’s face deepened considerably. ‘The testimony of a man accused of stealing diamonds, you understand!’ said he.
‘Jupin could confirm my story! The diamonds, as you say, have been recovered!’
‘Jupin? No offence, mon vieux, but, after all, you had the diamonds in your possession!’ said Dubuque. ‘And then you have a certain reputation! I myself have faith, but the examining magistrate will ask “Had Dubuque not arrived, who can say what might have happened?” You comprehend?’
Jupin bowed.
‘You must appreciate my position,’ Dubuque told Holmes.
‘Oh, of course! Well, I suppose I shall have to face the examining magistrate, and do what I can to mitigate my own crimes, and those of Monsieur Jupin.’ Holmes did his best to say it lightly, and he all but succeeded, but I sensed the defeat in his voice. The only charge we might lay against this Constantine, or Duclos as we now knew him to be, was kidnapping Holmes. And even then a clever man could easily claim that it was not kidnap at all, but legitimate arrest! Holmes was, after all, wanted in connection with the theft of diamonds – diamonds which had been found in the possession of the noted criminal, Arsène Jupin!
If I were Duclos, I told myself, I should not even appear in the matter at all. I should tell the police that I had been out of the house, that Holmes, wanted as a jewel thief, had broken in, and that Georges, the old and faithful retainer, had overpowered him and was just about to call the police when the ruffians Watson, Holmes’s partner in crime, and Jupin, the notorious thief, had also forced their way in and released their villainous confederate! That way, Holmes, Jupin and I would get fifteen years apiece on Devil’s Island, and Georges would get a medal!
I groaned aloud at the thought. ‘If only we had another clue!’ said I.
‘But we have!’ said Dubuque sardonically. ‘You are forgetting the famous laundry list!’
‘Laundry list?’ said Holmes, puzzled.
‘Oh, pay no attention, Holmes!’ I told him. ‘He’s trying to be funny.’
Dubuque shrugged, but then his attitude suddenly changed. ‘But no!’ he cried. ‘I was joking, but after all it may indeed be a clue! It may be that Monsieur Holmes can see what we cannot – I have to do my job, you comprehend, but I have known you a long time, Monsieur Holmes, and would do everything I can to help you.’ He turned to me. ‘Have you the list?’
I took it from my pocket. ‘That was what I found in the room upstairs,’ I told Holmes. ‘It is an odd list, but I cannot see what it might tell us.’
Holmes studied the list intently. Despite the grim circumstances in which we found ourselves, I almost smiled at his expression.
‘This could be the clue which solves the whole case, Holmes!’ said I, trying to cheer him up.
‘Well, it might at that! It is an odd list, I agree, but it is surely not entirely inexplicable?’
‘Well,’ said Dubuque smiling, ‘it is a curious household which has but one pair of drawers to that vast quantity of bed linen and towels, surely?’
‘It is not a house,’ said Holmes. ‘It is an hotel.’
‘An hotel?’ said Dubuque.
‘Yes, of course,’ said I, triumphant, ‘an hotel! It cannot be anything else, surely? An hotel; and an expensive one; and a small one – sixteen single rooms, and six doubles, and fifteen for the servants.’
‘Well, you may be right,’ said Dubuque. ‘I see I am outnumbered! An hotel? That would explain the vast quantity of bed linen. But how can you possibly tell the number of rooms?’
Feeling much as I imagine Holmes has so often felt when he has explained things to me, I said, ‘From the sheets and towels, of course!’
‘But there are nineteen single blankets, not sixteen!’ said Jupin.
‘Then some of the guests felt the cold!’ I told him. ‘And the towels do not quite agree, so some guests used two! After all, you would not expect the numbers to agree exactly, one blanket or one towel per guest!’
Holmes laughed aloud. ‘Well done, Watson!’ said he. ‘But then – there may be some twin rooms!’
‘Never thought of that!’
‘But all is not lost, for the number of permutations is a very limited one – there might be eight twins, say, and no singles, but there cannot be more than eight twins. So we are looking for a small, expensive hotel – there cannot be so many that the number is unmanageable, even in Paris!’
‘I will allow you an hotel, but how do you know it is expensive, then?’ said Dubuque.
Holmes nodded to me to explain.
‘For one thing,’ said I, ‘Duclos and this fellow Huret would hardly use a doss-house! For another, there are clearly servants’ rooms – that is shown by the cotton, as opposed to linen, sheets; and the inferior quality towels. Then, there may be only a few personal items, but they are all silk. And the fact that there are so few surely indicates high charges for laundry?’
‘Or that the guests’ own servants are doing the washing, perhaps?’ said Dubuque, seeming half convinced.
‘Which again would indicate an hotel of the first class! The petit bourgeoisie do not take servants along on holidays!’ said Holmes. ‘Watson is right, as always. I wonder if Duclos happens to have a directory of Paris about the place?’
Dubuque went over to the bookcase, rummaged around, and handed me a thick red volume.
I opened it. ‘Hotels – ah, yes.’ I studied the lengthy list ruefully. ‘There are lots – ah, but it is not too bad, after all, for there are not so many luxury ones!’
It was Dubuque’s turn to surprise us all. ‘Try the St Petersburg,’ said he casually.
‘Why that?’ I wanted to know.
‘Just, try it first.’
‘Very well. Here we are – “St Petersburg, near the Place Vendôme” – the scene of the jewel theft! Quite so!’
Holmes frowned. ‘Continue, Watson!’
‘“Twenty rooms; eight single, four twin, eight double” – does that agree with our tally, I wonder?’
Dubuque added up on his fingers. ‘Well enough,’ said he. ‘Continue.’
‘“Mostly suites; all with at least a private sitting room; expensive (prospective visitors are advised to enquire as to charges in advance) and frequently booked up for long periods ahead, but with an unrivalled reputation for its standards of service and discretion.” This looks promising, Dubuque! But how on earth did you know it was that hotel?’
He shrugged, as if it were nothing, but I could tell he was not displeased. ‘A lucky guess – we were looking for a small, expensive, hotel, and the St Petersburg is known to me as being exactly that. The name, as you may imagine, comes from its formerly being used by the Royal house of Russia – indeed, I think it was once an hotel in the old sense of the word, a town house in Paris for the Tsar, though I cannot swear as to that. But it is right, that – “discreet” is the proper word!’
‘Indeed?’ said Holmes.
Dubuque leaned forward and grew confidential. ‘The business of state is not always to be conducted openly, in the Chamber of Deputies,’ said he gravely. ‘There are private meetings, you understand, delicate negotiations, treaties whose contents cannot be revealed until the time is right. The Hôtel St Petersburg has long been known for such things – if an ambassador arrives, an envoy on special business, and a confidential meeting must be arranged, a meeting which cannot be held in public at an embassy, or at one of the ministries, the choice is always the St Petersburg. I was there myself last week, in the entourage of one of the ministers – he was talking privately with a special envoy from – well, perhaps I had better not say, even to you! But I can tell you that the St Petersburg is famous for its discretion, for providing facilities for diplomatic meetings – and even for meetings of individual businessmen, who do not wish their business too widely known.’
‘And possibly even meetings of a more personal nature yet?’ Jupin suggest
ed with a smile.
‘One has no doubt! The ministers, the ambassadors, the princes – they are only men like us, after all, n’est-ce pas? The St Petersburg presents – oh, so discreetly! – its little account – which is not so little after all, you comprehend? – and the client pays for silence, for discretion.’
‘But that is precisely the sort of place these men would use!’ said I.
‘Precisely so!’ Dubuque threw up his hands in mock horror. ‘But do you not see, my friends, that what seems to you a most important clue, a great discovery, is to me nothing more than confirmation of what I already knew? You say that Monsieur Huret would use the St Petersburg – I say, of course he does! I know, for example – I tell you this only in the strictest confidence, of course – that Monsieur Huret met the President himself at the St Petersburg on more than one occasion, when there were senior appointments to be discussed. You see what sort of a man Monsieur Huret is? The President himself sought his opinion on appointments to the various ministries!’ He sank back in his chair, and gazed at me triumphantly.
‘And yet Huret wrote a note to this villain, Duclos,’ I pointed out calmly.
‘Poof! I have already told you that there are a dozen quite innocent explanations as to that!’
‘That is quite true,’ Holmes put in.
‘And then Duclos must have visited this Hôtel St Petersburg, for it was here in Duclos’s house that I found this slip of paper,’ I went on.
Dubuque frowned. ‘That is true. Ah, but then we do not know for certain that this laundry list relates to the St Petersburg!’
‘The rooms, though!’ said I.
‘What of the rooms? There are more hotels in Paris than the St Petersburg, after all! It may be nothing more than coincidence!’
‘But – ’
‘Indeed,’ said Dubuque, ‘I am by no means happy with your laundry list, I must say! I have my suspicions! For example, if the laundry list is truly from some hotel – not necessarily the St Petersburg! – then how came you to find it, not in that hotel, but here in Duclos’s house?’
