813

by Maurice Leblanc

  “Lupin was after more than that. He wanted either the morocco envelope which was in the traveling-bag, or else the ebony box which was in the safe. He had the ebony box, because he has sent it back empty. Therefore, by this time, he knows, or is in a fair way for knowing, the famous scheme which Mr. Kesselbach was planning, and which he was discussing with his secretary a few minutes before his death.”

  “What was the scheme?”

  “I don’t exactly know. The manager of Barbareux’s agency, to whom he had opened his mind about it, has told me that Mr. Kesselbach was looking for a man who went by the name of Pierre Leduc, a man who had lost caste, it appears. Why and how the discovery of this person was connected with the success of his scheme, I am unable to say.”

  “Very well,” said Valenglay. “So much for Arsène Lupin. His part is played. Mr. Kesselbach is bound hand and foot, robbed, but alive! … What happens up to the time when he is found dead?”

  “Nothing, for several hours, nothing until night. But, during the night, some one made his way in.”

  “How?”

  “Through room 420, one of the rooms reserved by Mr. Kesselbach. The person in question evidently possessed a false key.”

  “But,” exclaimed the prefect of police, “all the doors between that room and Mr. Kesselbach’s flat were bolted; and there were five of them!”

  “There was always the balcony.”

  “The balcony!”

  “Yes; the balcony runs along the whole floor, on the Rue de Judée side.”

  “And what about the spaces in between?”

  “An active man can step across them. Our man did. I have found marks.”

  “But all the windows of the suite were shut; and it was ascertained, after the crime, that they were still shut.”

  “All except one, the secretary’s window, Chapman’s, which was only pushed to. I tried it myself.”

  This time the prime minister seemed a little shaken, so logical did M. Lenormand’s version seem, so precise and supported by such sound facts. He asked, with growing interest:

  “But what was the man’s object in coming?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ah, you don’t know!”

  “Any more than I know his name.”

  “But why did he kill Mr. Kesselbach?”

  “I don’t know. This all remains a mystery. The utmost that we have the right to suppose is that he did not come with the intention of killing, but with the intention, he too, of taking the documents contained in the morocco note-case and the ebony box; and that, finding himself by accident in the presence of the enemy reduced to a state of helplessness, he killed him.”

  Valenglay muttered:

  “Yes, strictly speaking, that is possible … And, according to you, did he find the documents?”

  “He did not find the box, because it was not there; but he found the black morocco note-case. So that Lupin and … the other are in the same position. Each knows as much as the other about the Kesselbach scheme.”

  “That means,” remarked the premier, “that they will fight.”

  “Exactly. And the fight has already begun. The murderer, finding a card of Arsène Lupin’s, pinned it to the corpse. All the appearances would thus be against Arsène Lupin … therefore, Arsène Lupin would be the murderer.”

  “True … true,” said Valenglay. “The calculation seemed pretty accurate.”

  “And the stratagem would have succeeded,” continued M. Lenormand, “if in consequence of another and a less favorable accident, the murderer had not, either in coming or going, dropped his cigarette-case in room 420, and if the floor-waiter, Gustave Beudot, had not picked it up. From that moment, knowing himself to be discovered, or on the point of being discovered …”

  “How did he know it?”

  “How? Why, through M. Formerie, the examining-magistrate, himself! The investigation took place with open doors. It is certain that the murderer was concealed among the people, members of the hotel staff and journalists, who were present when Gustave Beudot was giving his evidence; and when the magistrate sent Gustave Beudot to his attic to fetch the cigarette-case, the man followed and struck the blow. Second victim!”

  No one protested now. The tragedy was being reconstructed before their eyes with a realism and a probable accuracy which were equally striking.

  “And the third victim?” asked Valenglay.

  “He himself gave the ruffian his opportunity. When Beudot did not return, Chapman, curious to see the cigarette-case for himself, went upstairs with the manager of the hotel. He was surprised by the murderer, dragged away by him, taken to one of the bedrooms and murdered in his turn.”

  “But why did he allow himself to be dragged away like that and to be led by a man whom he knew to be the murderer of Mr. Kesselbach and of Gustave Beudot?”

  “I don’t know, any more than I know the room in which the crime was committed, or the really miraculous way in which the criminal escaped.”

  “Something has been said about two blue labels.”

  “Yes, one was found on the box which Lupin sent back; and the other was found by me and doubtless came from the morocco note-case stolen by the murderer.”

  “Well?”

  “I don’t think that they mean anything. What does mean something is the number 813, which Mr. Kesselbach wrote on each of them. His handwriting has been recognized.”

  “And that number 813?”

  “It’s a mystery.”

  “Then?”

  “I can only reply again that I don’t know.”

  “Have you no suspicions?”

  “None at all. Two of my men are occupying one of the rooms in the Palace Hotel, on the floor where Chapman’s body was found. I have had all the people in the hotel watched by these two men. The criminal is not one of those who have left.”

  “Did no one telephone while the murders were being committed?”

  “Yes, some one telephoned from the outside to Major Parbury, one of the four persons who occupied rooms on the first-floor passage.”

  “And this Major Parbury?”

  “I am having him watched by my men. So far, nothing has been discovered against him.”

  “And in which direction do you intend to seek?”

  “Oh, in a very limited direction. In my opinion, the murderer must be numbered among the friends or connections of Mr. and Mrs. Kesselbach. He followed their scent, knew their habits, the reason of Mr. Kesselbach’s presence in Paris; and he at least suspected the importance of Mr. Kesselbach’s plans.”

  “Then he was not a professional criminal?”

  “No, no, certainly not! The murder was committed with extraordinary cleverness and daring, but it was due to circumstances. I repeat, we shall have to look among the people forming the immediate circle of Mr. and Mrs. Kesselbach. And the proof is that Mr. Kesselbach’s murderer killed Gustave Beudot for the sole reason that the waiter had the cigarette-case in his possession; and Chapman for the sole reason that the secretary knew of its existence. Remember Chapman’s excitement: at the mere description of the cigarette-case, Chapman received a sudden insight into the tragedy. If he had seen the cigarette-case, we should have been fully informed. The man, whoever he may be, was well aware of that: and he put an end to Chapman. And we know nothing, nothing but the initials L and M.”

  He reflected for a moment and said:

  “There is another proof, which forms an answer to one of your questions, Monsieur le Président: Do you believe that Chapman would have accompanied that man along the passages and staircases of the hotel if he did not already know him?”

  The facts were accumulating. The truth or, at least, the probable truth was gaining strength. Many of the points at issue, the most interesting, perhaps, remained obscure. But what a light had been thrown upon the subject! Short of the motives that inspired them, how clearly Lenormand’s hearers now perceived the sequence of acts performed
on that tragic morning!

  There was a pause. Every one was thinking, seeking for arguments, for objections. At last, Valenglay exclaimed:

  “My dear Lenormand, this is all quite excellent. You have convinced me … But, taking one thing with another, we are no further than we were.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I say. The object of our meeting is not to clear up a portion of the mystery, which, one day, I am sure, you will clear up altogether, but to satisfy the public demand as fully as we possibly can. Now whether the murderer is Lupin or another; whether there are two criminals, or three, or only one: all this gives us neither the criminal’s name nor his arrest. And the public continues under the disastrous impression that the law is powerless.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Give the public the definite satisfaction which it demands.”

  “But it seems to me that this explanation ought to be enough …”

  “Words! The public wants deeds! One thing alone will satisfy it: an arrest.”

  “Hang it all! Hang it all! We can’t arrest the first person that comes along!”

  “Even that would be better than arresting nobody,” said Valenglay, with a laugh. “Come, have a good look round! Are you sure of Edwards, Kesselbach’s servant?”

  “Absolutely sure. Besides … No, Monsieur le Président, it would be dangerous and ridiculous; and I am sure that Mr. Attorney-General himself … There are only two people whom we have the right to arrest: the murderer—I don’t know who he is—and Arsène Lupin.”

  “Well?”

  “There is no question of arresting Arsène Lupin, or, at least, it requires time, a whole series of measures, which I have not yet had the leisure to contrive, because I looked upon Lupin as settled down … or dead.”

  Valenglay stamped his foot with the impatience of a man who likes to see his wishes realized on the spot:

  “And yet … and yet, my dear Lenormand, something must be done … if only for your own sake. You know as well as I do that you have powerful enemies … and that, if I were not there … In short, Lenormand, you can’t be allowed to get out of it like this. What are you doing about the accomplices? There are others besides Lupin. There is Marco; and there’s the rogue who impersonated Mr. Kesselbach in order to visit the cellars of the Crédit Lyonnais.”

  “Would you be satisfied if you got him, Monsieur le Président?”

  “Would I be satisfied? Heavens alive, I should think I would!”

  “Well, give me seven days.”

  “Seven days! Why, it’s not a question of days, my dear Lenormand! It’s a question of hours!”

  “How many will you give me, Monsieur le Président?”

  Valenglay took out his watch and chuckled:

  “I will give you ten minutes, my dear Lenormand!”

  The chief took out his, and emphasizing each syllable, said calmly:

  “That is four minutes more than I want, Monsieur le Président.”

  Valenglay looked at him in amazement.

  “Four minutes more than you want? What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, Monsieur le Président, that the ten minutes which you allow me are superfluous. I want six, and not one minute more.”

  “Oh, but look here, Lenormand … if you imagine that this is the time for joking …”

  The chief detective went to the window and beckoned to two men who were walking round the courtyard.

  Then he returned:

  “Mr. Attorney-General, would you have the kindness to sign a warrant for the arrest of Auguste Maximin Philippe Daileron, aged forty-seven? You might leave the profession open.”

  He went to the door:

  “Come in, Gourel. You, too, Dieuzy.”

  Gourel entered, accompanied by Inspector Dieuzy.

  “Have you the handcuffs, Gourel?”

  “Yes, chief.”

  M. Lenormand went up to Valenglay:

  “Monsieur le Président, everything is ready. But I entreat you most urgently to forego this arrest. It upsets all my plans; it may render them abortive; and, for the sake of what, after all, is a very trifling satisfaction, it exposes us to the risk of jeopardizing the whole business.”

  “M. Lenormand, let me remark that you have only eighty seconds left.”

  The chief suppressed a gesture of annoyance, strode across the room and, leaning on his stick, sat down angrily, as though he had decided not to speak. Then, suddenly making up his mind:

  “Monsieur le Président, the first person who enters this room will be the man whose arrest you asked for … against my wish, as I insist on pointing out to you.”

  “Fifteen seconds, Lenormand!”

  “Gourel … Dieuzy … the first person, do you understand? … Mr. Attorney, have you signed the warrant?”

  “Ten seconds, Lenormand!”

  “Monsieur le Président, would you be so good as to ring the bell?”

  Valenglay rang.

  The messenger appeared in the doorway and waited.

  Valenglay turned to the chief:

  “Well, Lenormand, he’s waiting for your orders. Whom is he to show in?”

  “No one.”

  “But the rogue whose arrest you promised us? The six minutes are more than past.”

  “Yes, but the rogue is here!”

  “Here? I don’t understand. No one has entered the room!”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Oh, I say … Look here, Lenormand, you’re making fun of us. I tell you again that no one has entered the room.”

  “There were six of us in this room, Monsieur le Président; there are seven now. Consequently, some one has entered the room.”

  Valenglay started:

  “Eh! But this is madness! … What! You mean to say …”

  The two detectives had slipped between the messenger and the door. M. Lenormand walked up to the messenger, clapped his hand on his shoulder and, in a loud voice:

  “In the name of the law, Auguste Maximin Philippe Daileron, chief messenger at the Ministry of the Interior, I arrest you.”

  Valenglay burst out laughing.

  “Oh, what a joke! What a joke! That infernal Lenormand! Of all the first-rate notions! Well done, Lenormand! It’s long since I enjoyed so good a laugh.”

  M. Lenormand turned to the attorney-general:

  “Mr. Attorney, you won’t forget to fill in Master Daileron’s profession on the warrant, will you? Chief messenger at the Ministry of the Interior.”

  “Oh, good! … Oh, capital! … Chief messenger at the Ministry of the Interior!” spluttered Valenglay, holding his sides. “Oh, this wonderful Lenormand gets hold of ideas that would never occur to anybody else! The public is clamoring for an arrest … Whoosh, he flings at its head my chief messenger … Auguste … the model servant! Well, Lenormand, my dear fellow, I knew you had a certain gift of imagination, but I never suspected that it would go so far as this! The impertinence of it!”

  From the commencement of this scene, Auguste had not stirred a limb and seemed to understand nothing of what was going on around him. His face, the typical face of a good, loyal, faithful serving-man, seemed absolutely bewildered. He looked at the gentlemen turn and turn about, with a visible effort to catch the meaning of their words.

  M. Lenormand said a few words to Gourel, who went out. Then, going up to Auguste and speaking with great decision, he said:

  “There’s no way out of it. You’re caught. The best thing to do, when the game is lost, is to throw down your cards. What were you doing on Tuesday?”

  “I? Nothing. I was here.”

  “You lie. You were off duty. You went out for the day.”

  “Oh, yes … I remember … I had a friend to see me from the country … We went for a walk in the Bois.”

  “Your friend’s name was Marco. And you went for a walk in the cellars of the Crédit Lyonnais.”

  “I?
What an idea! … Marco! … I don’t know any one by that name.”

  “And these? Do you know these?” cried the chief, thrusting a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles under his nose.

  “No … certainly not … I don’t wear spectacles …”

  “Yes, you do; you wear them when you go to the Crédit Lyonnais and when you pass yourself off as Mr. Kesselbach. These come from your room, the room which you occupy, under the name of M. Jérôme, at No. 50 Rue du Colisee.”

  “My room? My room? I sleep here, at the office.”

  “But you change your clothes over there, to play your parts in Lupin’s gang.”

  A blow in the chest made him stagger back. Auguste reached the window at a bound, climbed over the balcony and jumped into the courtyard.

  “Dash it all!” shouted Valenglay. “The scoundrel!”

  He rang the bell, ran to the window, wanted to call out. M. Lenormand, with the greatest calm, said:

  “Don’t excite yourself, Monsieur le Président …”

  “But that blackguard of an Auguste …”

  “One second, please … I foresaw this ending … in fact, I allowed for it … It’s the best confession we could have …”

  Yielding in the presence of this coolness, Valenglay resumed his seat. In a moment, Gourel entered, with his hand on the collar of Master Auguste Maximin Philippe Daileron, alias Jérôme, chief messenger at the Ministry of the Interior.

  “Bring him, Gourel!” said M. Lenormand, as who should say, “Fetch it! Bring it!” to a good retriever carrying the game in its jaws. “Did he come quietly?”

  “He bit me a little, but I held tight,” replied the sergeant, showing his huge, sinewy hand.

  “Very well, Gourel. And now take this chap off to the Dépôt in a cab. Good-bye for the present, M. Jérôme.”

  Valenglay was immensely amused. He rubbed his hands and laughed. The idea that his chief messenger was one of Lupin’s accomplices struck him as a most delightfully ludicrous thing.

  “Well done, my dear Lenormand; this is wonderful! But how on earth did you manage it?”

  “Oh, in the simplest possible fashion. I knew that Mr. Kesselbach was employing the Barbareux agency and that Lupin had called on him, pretending to come from the agency. I hunted in that direction and discovered that, when the indiscretion was committed to the prejudice of Mr. Kesselbach and of Barbareux, it could only have been to the advantage of one Jérôme, a friend of one of the clerks at the agency. If you had not ordered me to hustle things, I should have watched the messenger and caught Marco and then Lupin.”