Your servant,
Charles Folenfant
Letter to District Attorney Kasamori, Tokyo, 15 April 1931:
My Dear Kasamori,
Inspector Folenfant allowed me to come along with him today to the Chateau de Villefort. It proved a very interesting trip, mostly for the person of the Priest we met. Père Dulac has the quiet bearing and humble manner one would expect of a priest, but his bearing is military and he has the distinctive gait of a cavalryman. His hands boast a small collection of the sort of scars a fencer or a knife-fighter is likely to acquire and the small finger of his left hand is missing.
I believe that this man’s knowledge of swords is far removed from academic curiosity.
He told us the meaning of Lupin’s mysterious Latin phrase, “set free from the stone.” When I pressed him, he told me that it is probably a reference to the British King Arthur and his Sword in the Stone. Indeed, he admitted that some scholars think the name “Excalibur” is a corruption of the phrase ex calce liberatus.
This is especially interesting for I noticed that one of the swords on display was set in stone. There is a figure of a valiant prince, Hugrakkur of Thule. He is the hero of an Arthurian fragment by the 12th century poet Chrétien de Troyes. The Prince’s “singing sword” was encased in a scabbard of carved marble. Could this blade be the legendary sword of King Arthur? I suspect there is more to it than that or Lupin would have already stolen it, but I feel the key to the mystery is connected somehow to the sword, the stone scabbard and our mysterious priest.
Your friend,
Kogoro
Excerpt from an article in Le Mondial, Paris, 16 April 1931:
“…Police are investigating the strange death of Oscar Mazamette last night at the Musée Veronica, Boulevard des Italiens. Policemen were on duty guarding the display, which has been plagued by pranksters for several nights. At approximately 12:30 a.m., M. Mazamette arrived and asked to be let in. He was in the habit of touring the building after hours and the guards saw nothing wrong with letting him in.
“At approximately 1:15 a.m., the Policemen heard a loud cry and entered the building to find M. Mazamette dead in a pool of his own blood, his head some distance from his body. He had been decapitated with one of the display swords, a blade known as the Demoiselle Grise. This is an ancient weapon said to be the first sword forged of iron. Tradition claims the blade carries a curse on it. It will make its wielder supreme in combat, but will also bring about the death of any unworthy soul who tries to use it…”
Letter to Justin Ganimard, Picardy, 16 April 1931:
My Dear Chief Inspector,
You cannot imagine what this morning has been like. I was awakened just past 2 a.m. this morning with the news of M. Mazamette’s death. The scene was ghastly, with all of the wax figures standing over his lifeless body.
We searched the building thoroughly on my arrival and there was no one. My men were on guard at all entrances, and no one could have left. If the method of death did not preclude it, I should be forced to conclude that this was a suicide.
As the papers suggest, there is a strange history surrounding the sword known as the Demoiselle Grise. It is a long, slender weapon with markings on the blade in different languages. There is an Egyptian glyph, which I am told is the mark of its forger. There is also writing in Greek, Latin and English. The last, Moreau translated for me. It reads:
“Gray Maide men hail Mee
Death doth Notte fail Mee.”
Of all the swords in the room, this one was kept in a display case rather than placed with a wax figure. Moreau says he knew of the blade’s grim reputation and was loath to offer it the disrespect of placing it in wax fingers.
He also pointed out something my men had missed in all of the confusion. D’Artagnan’s sword was back in place and another was missing. This time it was the sword of one of the sculptor’s own ancestors, André-Louis Moreau, who was known as the “Paladin of the Third Estate” back in the days of the Revolution.
This makes me wonder if M. Mazamette did not accidentally walk in on him in the midst of a crime. Could he then have been forced to take up the sword and do Mazamette in?
It is all very perplexing.
Your Servant
Charles Folenfant
Letter to District Attorney Kasamori, Tokyo, 16 April 1931:
My Dear Kasamori,
The case has taken quite an interesting turn. There has been a murder and I am afraid Inspector Folenfant is out of his depth. I honestly don’t know whether he is incompetent or whether he is being deliberately obtuse.
One of the investors, M. Mazamette, was beheaded with a sword last night. Folenfant has taken the absurd position that Arsène Lupin committed the deed. When I pointed out that Lupin does not have a history of cold-blooded murder, he simply shrugged and said “the man is a criminal,” and it was “only a matter of time” before he did something like this.
On investigation, it was perfectly clear that it was not Lupin. There were crumbs of flesh-colored wax on the victim’s clothes. I believe these were from a person wearing a waxy makeup to resemble one of the figures in the display.
I examined the figures and found that the clothing that had been spattered most heavily with blood was that on the figures of Lagardère and Lady Jirel. This leads me to believe we are dealing with two assailants, a man and a woman. I believe that the man seized Mazamette and held him fast while the woman struck the fatal blow.
My first thought was of Emile and Nora, the models for those figures. I checked and could find no records of either person going back more than a few months. I checked on M. Mazamette and learned that he had helped break up a criminal gang 15 years ago. They were called the Vampires, and they first came to public notice when they committed the murder by decapitation of a Police Inspector named Durand.
A little more checking turned up the fact that one of the leaders of the Vampire Gang was named Irma Vep, a name that is an anagram of “vampire.” From there, it was a simple step to seeing that the name Nora Fuset is also an anagram. The letters unscramble to form the word “nosferatu.” Irma Vep was reported dead years ago, but Nora could easily be her daughter.
I wish I could bring this to Folenfant but I cannot without more convincing evidence. I know his type. He will cling to his theory with pig-headed obstinacy. I plan to watch the gallery tonight in an attempt to gain more compelling evidence. Possibly I can even figure Lupin’s role in this.
Your friend,
Kogoro
P.S. As to the matter of the sword in the stone scabbard, I examined it and found it to be nothing more than a modern replica. That mystery will have to wait awhile.
Letter to Justin Ganimard, Picardy, 17 April 1931:
My Dear Chief Inspector,
Things have taken an unusual turn this morning. I received a phone call from M. Akechi who asked for me to come to the gallery at once and to have MM. Moreau, Dulac, Deschamps and Mlle. Fuset summoned as well. I arrived there not half-an-hour later to find that Père Dulac had arrived but the others were late.
Akechi said that he had great revelations for us, but that they must wait until all the dramatis personae were assembled. (Sir, in your experience, do all amateur detectives have this tedious obsession with the dramatic?)
We had been there only a short time when one of my men came in with a note addressed to M. Akechi. Once the detective read it, his whole attitude changed. He told us that he was sorry to have bothered us with his foolish theories, and admitted that he really hadn’t a clue about the thefts or the murder. He had simply hoped to gather all the players together and hoped to bluff one of them into a confession. Having realized how foolish this was, he was withdrawing from the case.
I demanded to know what had been in the note that had changed the man’s mind. Akechi said that was from his wife Fumiyo. She was very angry with him for leaving her alone to work on a case in the middle of what was supposed to be a romantic vacation. He apologized but
said that he was not willing to face the prospect of divorce to solve a mystery.
Père Dulac thought this sounded suspicious and demanded to see the note. Akechi spread it out for us, but it was written in Japanese.
With no reason to hold him, I let him go. I am focusing my efforts on the opening this evening. I plan to have so many men there that we can trap him, or the Vampires, if either have the nerve to show up.
Some time after Akechi left, Philipe Guerande showed up. He was shaken by his friend’s death but is determined to go ahead with the grand opening of the exhibit this evening.
Your servant,
Charles Folenfant
Note to Kogoro Akechi, 17 April 1931 (translated from the Japanese):
Detective Akechi,
Your wife, Fumiyo, is with us. You will say nothing to the Police. You will excuse yourself immediately and come to the bench nearest the west entrance to the Garden of Luxembourg. You will not allow the Police to follow you. You will sit there reading a newspaper until we contact you. You will keep both hands in sight at all times. If you do these things faithfully, we will bring Mme. Akechi to you, alive and unharmed. If you fail, we will begin to send one of her body parts to you each day, starting with her feet. Either way, you will eventually have her back.
The Vampires
Letter to District Attorney Kasamori, Tokyo, 17 April 1931:
My Dear Kasamori,
I can’t tell you how helpless I felt when I received that note. I rushed back to the hotel (stopping only to pilfer something I needed from the museum) and confirmed that my wife had not been seen since that morning. I then proceeded to area designated in the letter.
I went through an impressive number of newspapers as I sat there. La Capitale ran a story about M. Mazamette’s death and discussed the “cursed sword” at some length. Le Mondial ran a story which (correctly) speculated that this was an act of revenge by the Vampire gang. I was disappointed to find that L’Echo de France said next to nothing about the matter. I had hoped to be able to gauge Arsène Lupin’s thoughts, and L’Echo is often the vehicle by which those thoughts are revealed.
Sometime after full dark, a large automobile pulled us near and a woman emerged. She wore a one-piece dancer’s costume that covered her body, arms and legs, a short black cape, a tight black hood, and there was a domino mask, all in black. Two men also stepped out holding my wife between them.
I told the woman that I knew she was Nora Fuset. She was shocked but recovered with admirable self-possession. She seemed politely impressed as I explained my deductions, and gratified when I told her there was something I hadn’t figured out. To stand rigid enough to pass for a wax figure would be incredibly difficult. I asked her how she and M. Deschamps had managed it.
She laughed and told me that I had been correct about her mother’s identity. Her father had also been a criminal, she said. He was called Y’uan Hee See and he was an associate of the brilliant scientist, Dr. Natas, who had invented a drug which induced an artificial rigor mortis. A large dose would temporarily turn a person into a living statue. A smaller dose would allow a person to remain motionless voluntarily for long periods of time.
As Nora said this, she noticed the barrel of a pistol poking across the top of my newspaper. I had a trick of my own. I had borrowed a wax arm from the museum. One of my arms holding the paper was a wax dummy while my real arm covered her with the pistol.
Nora pointed out that we were at an impasse. If either of us did anything, both she and Fumiyo would die. I admit I could not see a good way out of the situation until fate intervened. A dark figure came out of the night and launched itself into the two men. It was Père Dulac, and he fought with a frightening efficiency. Within a few minutes, we had subdued the two Vampires, but Nora had managed to slip away in the darkness.
Dulac explained that he had lived in Nagasaki for a time and was able to read Japanese. He had read the kidnap note and had followed to help me.
We hailed a cab and headed back towards the museum. It seemed increasingly clear to me that Nora had wanted to keep me away from the grand opening for some reason of her own. I told Dulac of my deductions, speaking in Japanese so not to be overheard. When he answered, I noticed that he used an archaic dialect, like someone transported from the days of Nobunaga.
I know this must sound insane, but it occurred to me that there had been a Jesuit settlement in Nagasaki from 1570-1587 AD, before the expulsion of westerners. I wondered if he could possibly be that old. It also occurred to me that I had read of a knight with a missing finger while I was researching the swords. In the romance, the knight had lost the digit while ripping loose the bars from the window of his lady’s cell.
I mentioned this to Dulac and wondered aloud how a man could be alive after so many years.
“The same knight you are speaking of was a traitor.” He said, “The woman he loved was the wife of another. Many suffered and died for their love. As an act of penance, he took up holy orders. Perhaps his penance is not yet done.”
I told him it seemed a long time to atone for any misdeed.
He smiled sadly and said, “Perhaps he is not truly penitent. Perhaps he loves the woman so that he would sin for her again given the chance.”
I let that end our strange conversation. We arrived at the museum moments later, though too late to prevent a near-tragedy.
Your friend,
Kogoro
Excerpt from an article in La Capitale, Paris, 18 April 1931:
“Last night’s gala was interrupted at 10:10 p.m. when all of the gallery lights went out. There was a great deal of confusion.
“When the lights were restored, no more than half a dozen seconds later, the Demoiselle Grise had disappeared from its display case and had impaled M. Philipe Guerande through the left shoulder. M. Guerande’s life was apparently saved when M. Arthur Moreau accidentally stumbled against him in the dark, causing the blade to miss his heart.
“The Police have taken M. Guerande into protective custody and are tending his wounds at an undisclosed location. Inspector Folenfant assures us that an arrest is imminent.
“When asked about the participation of Japanese detective Kogoro Akechi in the case, Inspector Folenfant had this to say: ‘We are grateful for the advice M. Akechi has given us on this matter and are saddened by his decision to return to his country immediately. This was necessitated by concerns for Mme. Akechi’s health and has nothing to do with the ongoing investigation.’ ”
Letter to Justin Ganimard, Picardy, 18 April 1931:
My Dear Chief Inspector,
Akechi is gone, returned to Japan with his wife. I can hardly blame them. He didn’t give me all the details, but he let me know of his wife’s kidnapping and near murder. It’s a shame, but probably for the best. He didn’t ever contribute anything of use to the investigation.
I am still no closer to uncovering this murderous plot of his, though there has been an unexpected development. I am forwarding you a copy of a note I have just received from M. Guerande. Rest assured, this time no malefactors will slip through my security.
Your servant,
Charles Folenfant
Note to Inspector Charles Folenfant, Paris, 18 April 1931:
Inspector Folenfant,
I have the solution to several mysteries and am ready to reveal them. I know all about the method used in the attempt on my life and the culprit. I also know all about Arsène Lupin and the mysterious treasure he seeks.
I will not reveal anything until I have met with all of the interested parties in the display room.
Please gather together M. Moreau, Mlle. Fuset, Père Dulac and M. Deschamps at 8 p.m. tomorrow evening.
Sincerely yours,
Philipe Guerande
Letter to District Attorney Kasamori, Tokyo – Sunday, April 19
My Dear Kasamori,
There have been some very interesting developments today.
At M. Guerande’s request, Inspector Folenfant gathe
red all of the parties involved in the case, with the exception of M. Moreau who could not be located.
I had spoken to Guerande before this gathering and had told him all about Nora Fuset and the Vampires and now he revealed all of this to the assembly. Of course, Folenfant immediately had his men seize Nora and Emile and placed them under arrest.
As to the means by which the Demoiselle Grise had vanished from her case to strike Guerande down, that was simplicity itself. He explained that it had been a replica of the sword in the display case. When the lights had gone out, one of the Vampires had pressed a secret release. The replica had dropped into a hidden compartment in the base of the display. As the false sword “vanished,” Emile, in his guise as the figure of Lagardère, took the real Demoiselle from its hiding place and hurled it at Guerande with all of his brutish strength.
As for Lupin, he had been under everyone’s noses all along, disguised as Moreau. That, of course, was the reason the sculptor had not attended the evening’s gathering. The real Moreau was currently living well at Lupin’s expense, working on a commission in Prague. He was quite in the dark about the whole affair.
Lupin had learned that the secret of the treasure, reputed to be the burial place of King Arthur himself, was hidden in one of the swords in the collection and had used his position to examine the swords minutely, one-by-one.
The Baron de Villefort was a member of an ancient secret order, devoted to keeping the location of Arthur’s treasure a secret. Père Dulac was also a member and Guerande called on him to reveal the secret.
Dulac took the marble scabbard from the figure of Prince Hugrakkur. “The secret rests here, but I will never reveal what it is,” he said. “I will take this and hide it somewhere that even Arsène Lupin will never find it.”
Folenfant nodded to his men at that point. They released Nora and Emile and seized Guerande and Dulac while the Inspector covered them with his revolver.
Tales of the Shadowmen 2: Gentlemen of the Night Page 2
