Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes (18 page)

“How many are you, my friends? Twenty-five? Thirty? That’s too many. I can’t do anything. Ah! If there had been only fifteen!”

There was something fascinating about Lupin; it was the fascination of the great actor who plays his rôle with spirit and understanding, combined with assurance and ease. Sholmes regarded him as one might regard a beautiful painting with a due appreciation of all its perfection in coloring and technique. And he really thought that it was an equal struggle between those thirty men on one side, armed as they were with all the strength and majesty of the law, and, on the other side, that solitary individual, unarmed and handcuffed. Yes, the two sides were well-matched.

“Well, master,” said Lupin to the Englishman, “this is your work. Thanks to you, Lupin is going to rot on the damp straw of a dungeon. Confess that your conscience pricks you a little, and that your soul is filled with remorse.”

In spite of himself, Sholmes shrugged his shoulders, as if to say: “It’s your own fault.”

“Never! Never!” exclaimed Lupin. “Give you the blue diamond? Oh! No, it has cost me too much trouble. I intend to keep it. On my occasion of my first visit to you in London—which will probably be next month—I will tell you my reasons. But will you be in London next month? Or do you prefer Vienna? Or Saint Petersburg?”

Then Lupin received a surprise. A bell commenced to ring. It was not the alarm-bell, but the bell of the telephone which was located between the two windows of the room and had not yet been removed.

The telephone! Ah! Who could it be? Who was about to fall into this unfortunate trap? Arsène Lupin exhibited an access of rage against the unlucky instrument as if he would like to break it into a thousand pieces and thus stifle the mysterious voice that was calling for him. But it was Ganimard who took down the receiver, and said:

“Hello! … Hello! … number 648.73 … yes, this is it.”

Then Sholmes stepped up, and, with an air of authority, pushed Ganimard aside, took the receiver, and covered the transmitter with his handkerchief in order to obscure the tone of his voice. At that moment he glanced toward Lupin, and the look which they exchanged indicated that the same idea had occurred to each of them, and that they foresaw the ultimate result of that theory: it was the Blonde Lady who was telephoning. She wished to telephone to Felix Davey, or rather to Maxime Bermond, and it was to Sholmes she was about to speak. The Englishman said:

“Hello … Hello!”

Then, after a silence, he said:

“Yes, it is I, Maxime.”

The drama had commenced and was progressing with tragic precision. Lupin, the irrepressible and nonchalant Lupin, did not attempt to conceal his anxiety, and he strained every nerve in a desire to hear or, at least, to divine the purport of the conversation. And Sholmes continued, in reply to the mysterious voice:

“Hello! … Hello! … Yes, everything has been moved, and I am just ready to leave here and meet you as we agreed … Where? … Where you are now? … Don’t believe that he is here yet!. … ”

Sholmes stopped, seeking for words. It was clear that he was trying to question the girl without betraying himself, and that he was ignorant of her whereabouts. Moreover, Ganimard’s presence seemed to embarrass him … Ah! if some miracle would only interrupt that cursed conversation! Lupin prayed for it with all his strength, with all the intensity of his incited nerves! After a momentary pause, Sholmes continued:

“Hello! … Hello! … Do you hear me? … I can’t hear you very well … Can scarcely make out what you say … Are you listening? Well, I think you had better return home … No danger now … But he is in England! I have received a telegram from Southampton announcing his arrival.”

The sarcasm of those words! Sholmes uttered them with an inexpressible comfort. And he added:

“Very well, don’t lose any time. I will meet you there.”

He hung up the receiver.

“Monsieur Ganimard, can you furnish me with three men?”

“For the Blonde Lady, eh?”

“Yes.”

“You know who she is, and where she is?”

“Yes.”

“Good! That settles Monsieur Lupin … Folenfant, take two men, and go with Monsieur Sholmes.”

The Englishman departed, accompanied by the three men.

The game was ended. The Blonde Lady was, also, about to fall into the hands of the Englishman. Thanks to his commendable persistence and to a combination of fortuitous circumstances, the battle had resulted in a victory for the detective, and in irreparable disaster for Lupin.

“Monsieur Sholmes!”

The Englishman stopped.

“Monsieur Lupin?”

Lupin was clearly shattered by this final blow. His forehead was marked by deep wrinkles. He was sullen and dejected. However, he pulled himself together, and, notwithstanding his defeat, he exclaimed, in a cheerful tone:

“You will concede that fate has been against me. A few minutes ago, it prevented my escape through that chimney, and delivered me into your hands. Now, by means of the telephone, it presents you with the Blonde Lady. I submit to its decrees.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I am ready to re-open our negotiation.”

Sholmes took Ganimard aside and asked, in a manner that did not permit a reply, the authority to exchange a few words with the prisoner. Then he approached Lupin, and said, in a sharp, nervous tone:

“What do you want?”

“Mademoiselle Destange’s liberty.”

“You know the price.”

“Yes.”

“And you accept?”

“Yes; I accept your terms.”

“Ah!” said the Englishman, in surprise, “but … you refused … for yourself—”

“Yes, I can look out for myself, Monsieur Sholmes, but now the question concerns a young woman … and a woman I love. In France, understand, we have very decided ideas about such things. And Lupin has the same feelings as other people.”

He spoke with simplicity and candor. Sholmes replied by an almost imperceptible inclination of his head, and murmured:

“Very well, the blue diamond.”

“Take my cane, there, at the end of the mantel. Press on the head of the cane with one hand, and, with the other, turn the iron ferrule at the bottom.”

Holmes took the cane and followed the directions. As he did so, the head of the cane divided and disclosed a cavity which contained a small ball of wax which, in turn, enclosed a diamond. He examined it. It was the blue diamond.

“Monsieur Lupin, Mademoiselle Destange is free.”

“Is her future safety assured? Has she nothing to fear from you?”

“Neither from me, nor anyone else.”

“How can you manage it?”

“Quite easily. I have forgotten her name and address.”

“Thank you. And au revoir—for I will see you again, sometime, Monsieur Sholmes?”

“I have no doubt of it.”

Then followed an animated conversation between Sholmes and Ganimard, which was abruptly terminated by the Englishman, who said:

“I am very sorry, Monsieur Ganimard, that we cannot agree on that point, but I have no time to waste trying to convince you. I leave for England within an hour.”

“But … the Blonde Lady?”

“I do not know such a person.”

“And yet, a moment ago—”

“You must take the affair as it stands. I have delivered Arsène Lupin into your hands. Here is the blue diamond, which you will have the pleasure of returning to the Countess de Crozon. What more do you want?”

“The Blonde Lady.”

“Find her.”

Sholmes pulled his cap down over his forehead and walked rapidly away, like a man who is accustomed to go as soon as his business is finished.

“Bon voyage, monsieur,” cried Lupin, “and, believe me, I shall never forget the friendly way in which our little business affairs have been arranged. My regards to Monsieur Wilson.”

Not receiving any reply, Lupin added, sneeringly:

“That is what is called ‘taking British leave.’ Ah! Their insular dignity lacks the flower of courtesy by which we are distinguished. Consider for a moment, Ganimard, what a charming exit a Frenchman would have made under similar circumstances! With what exquisite courtesy he would have masked his triumph! … But, God bless me, Ganimard, what are you doing? Making a search? Come, what’s the use? There is nothing left—not even a scrap of paper. I assure you my archives are in a safe place.”

“I am not so sure of that,” replied Ganimard. “I must search everything.”

Lupin submitted to the operation. Held by two detectives and surrounded by the others, he patiently endured the proceedings for twenty minutes, then he said:

“Hurry up, Ganimard, and finish!”

“You are in a hurry.”

“Of course I am. An important appointment.”

“At the police station?”

“No; in the city.”

“Ah! At what time?”

“Two o’clock.”

“It is three o’clock now.”

“Just so; I will be late. And punctuality is one of my virtues.”

“Well, give me five minutes.”

“Not a second more,” said Lupin.

“I am doing my best to expedite—”

“Oh! Don’t talk so much … Still searching that cupboard? It is empty.”

“Here are some letters.”

“Old invoices, I presume!”

“No; a packet tied with a ribbon.”

“A red ribbon? Oh! Ganimard, for God’s sake, don’t untie it!”

“From a woman?”

“Yes.”

“A woman of the world?”

“The best in the world.”

“Her name?”

“Madame Ganimard.”

“Very funny! Very funny!” exclaimed the detective.

At that moment the men, who had been sent to search the other rooms, returned and announced their failure to find anything. Lupin laughed and said:

“Parbleu! Did you expect to find my visiting list, or evidence of my business relations with the Emperor of Germany? But I can tell you what you should investigate, Ganimard: All the little mysteries of this apartment. For instance, that gas-pipe is a speaking tube. That chimney contains a stairway. That wall is hollow. And the marvellous system of bells! Ah! Ganimard, just press that button!”

Ganimard obeyed.

“Did you hear anything?” asked Lupin.

“No.”

“Neither did I. And yet you notified my aeronaut to prepare the dirigible balloon which will soon carry us into the clouds.

“Come!” said Ganimard, who had completed his search; “we’ve had enough nonsense—let’s be off.”

He started away, followed by his men. Lupin did not move. His guardians pushed him in vain.

“Well,” said Ganimard, “do you refuse to go?”

“Not at all. But it depends.”

“On what?”

“Where you want to take me.”

“To the station-house, of course.”

“Then I refuse to go. I have no business there.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Did I not tell you that I had an important appointment?”

“Lupin!”

“Why, Ganimard, I have an appointment with the Blonde Lady, and do you suppose I would be so discourteous as to cause her a moment’s anxiety? That would be very ungentlemanly.”

“Listen, Lupin,” said the detective, who was becoming annoyed by this persiflage; “I have been very patient with you, but I will endure no more. Follow me.”

“Impossible; I have an appointment and I shall keep it.”

“For the last time—follow me!”

“Im-pos-sible!”

At a sign from Ganimard two men seizedLupin by the arms; but they released him at once, uttering cries of pain. Lupin had thrust two long needles into them. The other men now rushed at Lupin with cries of rage and hatred, eager to avenge their comrades and to avenge themselves for the many affronts he had heaped upon them; and now they struck and beat him to their heart’s desire. A violent blow on the temple felled Lupin to the floor.

“If you hurt him you will answer to me,” growled Ganimard, in a rage.

He leaned over Lupin to ascertain his condition. Then, learning that he was breathing freely, Ganimard ordered his men to carry the prisoner by the head and feet, while he himself supported the body.

“Go gently, now! … Don’t jolt him. Ah! The brutes would have killed him … Well, Lupin, how goes it?”

“None too well, Ganimard … you let them knock me out.”

“It was your own fault; you were so obstinate,” replied Ganimard. “But I hope they didn’t hurt you.”

They had left the apartment and were now on the landing. Lupin groaned and stammered:

“Ganimard … the elevator … they are breaking my bones.”

“A good idea, an excellent idea,” replied Ganimard. “Besides, the stairway is too narrow.”

He summoned the elevator. They placed Lupin on the seat with the greatest care. Ganimard took his place beside him and said to his men:

“Go down the stairs and wait for me below. Understand?”

Ganimard closed the door of the elevator. Suddenly the elevator shot upward like a balloon released from its cable. Lupin burst into a fit of sardonic laughter.

“Good God!” cried Ganimard, as he made a frantic search in the dark for the button of descent. Having found it, he cried:

“The fifth floor! Watch the door of the fifth floor.”

His assistants clambered up the stairs, two and three steps at a time. But this strange circumstance happened: The elevator seemed to break through the ceiling of the last floor, disappeared from the sight of Ganimard’s assistants, suddenly made its appearance on the upper floor—the servants’ floor—and stopped. Three men were there waiting for it. They opened the door. Two of them seized Ganimard, who, astonished at the sudden attack, scarcely made any defense. The other man carried off Lupin.

“I warned you, Ganimard … about the dirigible balloon. Another time, don’t be so tender-hearted. And, moreover, remember that Arsène Lupin doesn’t allow himself to be struck and knocked down without sufficient reason. Adieu.”

The door of the elevator was already closed on Ganimard, and the machine began to descend; and it all happened so quickly that the old detective reached the ground floor as soon as his assistants. Without exchanging a word they crossed the court and ascended the servants’ stairway, which was the only way to reach the servants’ floor through which the escape had been made.

A long corridor with several turns and bordered with little numbered rooms led to a door that was not locked. On the other side of this door and, therefore, in another house there was another corridor with similar turns and similar rooms, and at the end of it a servants’ stairway. Ganimard descended it, crossed a court and a vestibule and found himself in the rue Picot. Then he understood the situation: the two houses, built the entire depth of the lots, touched at the rear, while the fronts of the houses faced upon two streets that ran parallel to each other at a distance of more than sixty metres apart.