Lupin’s motor-car was not only
an office, a writing-room furnished with books, stationery,
pens and ink, but also a regular actor’s dressing-room,
containing a complete make-up box, a trunk filled
with every variety of wearing-apparel, another crammed
with “properties” umbrellas,
walking-sticks, scarves, eye-glasses and so on in
short, a complete set of paraphernalia which enabled
him to alter his appearance from top to toe in the
course of a drive.
The man who rang at Daubrecq the deputy’s
gate, at six o-clock that evening, was a stout, elderly
gentleman, in a black frock-coat, a bowler hat, spectacles
and whiskers.
The portress took him to the front-door
of the house and rang the bell. Victoire appeared.
Lupin asked:
“Can M. Daubrecq see Dr. Vernes?”
“M. Daubrecq is in his bedroom; and it
is rather late...”
“Give him my card, please.”
He wrote the words, “From Mme. Mergy,”
in the margin and added:
“There, he is sure to see me.”
“But...” Victoire began.
“Oh, drop your buts, old
dear, do as I say, and don’t make such a fuss
about it!”
She was utterly taken aback and stammered:
“You!... is it you?”
“No, it’s Louis XIV!”
And, pushing her into a corner of the hall, “Listen...
The moment I’m done with him, go up to your room,
put your things together anyhow and clear out.”
“What!”
“Do as I tell you. You’ll
find my car waiting down the avenue. Come, stir
your stumps! Announce me. I’ll wait
in the study.”
“But it’s dark in there.”
“Turn on the light.”
She switched on the electric light and left Lupin
alone.
“It’s here,” he
reflected, as he took a seat, “it’s here
that the crystal stopper?byes?... Unless Daubrecq
always keeps it by him... But no, when people
have a good hiding-place, they make use of it.
And this is a capital one; for none of us... so far...”
Concentrating all his attention, he
examined the objects in the room; and he remembered
the note which Daubrecq wrote to Prasville:
“Within reach of your hand, my dear Prasville!...
You touched it! A little more and
the trick was done...”
Nothing seemed to have moved since
that day. The same things were lying about on
the desk: books, account-books, a bottle of ink,
a stamp-box, pipes, tobacco, things that had been
searched and probed over and over again.
“The bounder!” thought
Lupin. “He’s organized his business
jolly cleverly. It’s all dove-tailed like
a well-made play.”
In his heart of hearts, though he
knew exactly what he had come to do and how he meant
to act, Lupin was thoroughly aware of the danger and
uncertainty attending his visit to so powerful an adversary.
It was quite within the bounds of possibility that
Daubrecq, armed as he was, would remain master of
the field and that the conversation would take an
absolutely different turn from that which Lupin anticipated.
And this prospect angered him somewhat.
He drew himself up, as he heard a sound of footsteps
approaching.
Daubrecq entered.
He entered without a word, made a
sign to Lupin, who had risen from his chair, to resume
his seat and himself sat down at the writing-desk.
Glancing at the card which he held in his hand:
“Dr. Vernes?”
“Yes, monsieur lé depute, Dr.
Vernes, of Saint-Germain.”
“And I see that you come from Mme. Mergy.
A patient of yours?”
“A recent patient. I did
not know her until I was called in to see her, the
other day, in particularly tragic circumstances.”
“Is she ill?”
“Mme. Mergy has taken poison.”
“What!”
Daubrecq gave a start and he continued, without concealing
his distress:
“What’s that you say? Poison!
Is she dead?”
“No, the dose was not large
enough. If no complications ensue, I consider
that Mme. Mergy’s life is saved.”
Daubrecq said nothing and sat silent, with his head
turned to Lupin.
“Is he looking at me? Are his eyes open
or shut?” Lupin asked himself.
It worried Lupin terribly not to see
his adversary’s eyes, those eyes hidden by the
double obstacle of spectacles and black glasses:
weak, bloodshot eyes, Mme. Mergy had told him.
How could he follow the secret train of the man’s
thought without seeing the expression of his face?
It was almost like fighting an enemy who wielded an
invisible sword.
Presently, Daubrecq spoke:
“So Mme. Mergy’s
life is saved... And she has sent you to me...
I don’t quite understand... I hardly know
the lady.”
“Now for the ticklish moment,” thought
Lupin. “Have at him!”
And, in a genial, good-natured and rather shy tone,
he said:
“No, monsieur lé depute,
there are cases in which a doctor’s duty becomes
very complex... very puzzling... And you may think
that, in taking this step... However, to cut
a long story short, while I was attending Mme.
Mergy, she made a second attempt to poison herself...
Yes; the bottle, unfortunately, had been left within
her reach. I snatched it from her. We had
a struggle. And, railing in her fever, she said
to me, in broken words, ’He’s the man...
He’s the man... Daubrecq the deputy...
Make him give me back my son. Tell him to... or
else I would rather die... Yes, now, to-night...
I would rather die.’ That’s what
she said, monsieur lé depute...
So I thought that I ought to let you know. It
is quite certain that, in the lady’s highly nervous
state of mind... Of course, I don’t know
the exact meaning of her words... I asked no
questions of anybody... obeyed a spontaneous impulse
and came straight to you.”
Daubrecq reflected for a little while and said:
“It amounts to this, doctor,
that you have come to ask me if I know the whereabouts
of this child whom I presume to have disappeared.
Is that it?”
“Yes.”
“And, if I did happen to know, you would take
him back to his mother?”
There was a longer pause. Lupin asked himself:
“Can he by chance have swallowed
the story? Is the threat of that death enough?
Oh, nonsense it’s out of the question!...
And yet... and yet... he seems to be hesitating.”
“Will you excuse me?”
asked Daubrecq, drawing the telephone, on his writing-desk,
toward him. “I have an urgent message.”
“Certainly, monsieur lé depute.”
Daubrecq called out:
“Hullo!... 822.19, please, 822.19.”
Having repeated the number, he sat without moving.
Lupin smiled:
“The headquarters of police,
isn’t it? The secretary-general’s
office...”
“Yes, doctor... How do you know?”
“Oh, as a divisional surgeon, I sometimes have
to ring them up.”
And, within himself, Lupin asked:
“What the devil does all this
mean? The secretary-general is Prasville...
Then, what?...”
Daubrecq put both receivers to his ears and said:
“Are you 822.19? I want
to speak to M. Prasville, the secretary-general ...
Do you say he’s not there?... Yes, yes,
he is: he’s always in his office at this
time... Tell him it’s M. Daubrecq...
M. Daubrecq the deputy... a most important communication.”
“Perhaps I’m in the way?” Lupin
suggested.
“Not at all, doctor, not at
all,” said Daubrecq. “Besides, what
I have to say has a certain bearing on your errand.”
And, into the telephone, “Hullo! M. Prasville?...
Ah, it’s you, Prasville, old cock!... Why,
you seem quite staggered! Yes, you’re right,
it’s an age since you and I met. But, after
all, we’ve never been far away in thought...
And I’ve had plenty of visits from you and your
henchmen... In my absence, it’s true.
Hullo!... What?... Oh, you’re in a
hurry? I beg your pardon!... So am I, for
that matter... Well, to come to the point, there’s
a little service I want to do you... Wait, can’t
you, you brute?... You won’t regret it...
It concerns your renown... Hullo!... Are
you listening?... Well, take half-a-dozen men
with you... plain-clothes detectives, by preference:
you’ll find them at the night-office...
Jump into a taxi, two taxis, and come along here as
fast as you can... I’ve got a rare quarry
for you, old chap. One of the upper ten... a lord,
a marquis Napoleon himself... in a word, Arsène Lupin!”
Lupin sprang to his feet. He
was prepared for everything but this. Yet something
within him stronger than astonishment, an impulse of
his whole nature, made him say, with a laugh:
“Oh, well done, well done!”
Daubrecq bowed his head, by way of thanks, and muttered:
“I haven’t quite finished...
A little patience, if you don’t mind.”
And he continued, “Hullo! Prasville!...
No, no, old chap, I’m not humbugging...
You’ll find Lupin here, with me, in my study...
Lupin, who’s worrying me like the rest of you...
Oh, one more or less makes no difference to me!
But, all the same, this one’s a bit too pushing.
And I am appealing to your sense of kindness.
Rid me of the fellow, do... Half-a-dozen of your
satellites and the two who are pacing up and down
outside my house will be enough... Oh, while you’re
about it, go up to the third floor and rope in my
cook as well... She’s the famous Victoire:
you know, Master Lupin’s old nurse... And,
look here, one more tip, to show you how I love you:
send a squad of men to the Rue Chateaubriand, at the
corner of the Rue Balzac... That’s where
our national hero lives, under the name of Michel
Beaumont... Do you twig, old cockalorum?
And now to business. Hustle!”
When Daubrecq turned his head, Lupin
was standing up, with clenched fists. His burst
of admiration had not survived the rest of the speech
and the revelations which Daubrecq had made about Victoire
and the flat in the Rue Chateaubriand. The humiliation
was too great; and Lupin no longer bothered to play
the part of the small general practitioner. He
had but one idea in his head: not to give way
to the tremendous fit of rage that was urging him
to rush at Daubrecq like a bull.
Daubrecq gave the sort of little cluck
which, with him, did duty for a laugh. He came
waddling up, with his hands in his trouser-pockets,
and said, incisively:
“Don’t you think that
this is all for the best? I’ve cleared the
ground, relieved the situation... At least, we
now know where we stand. Lupin versus Daubrecq;
and that’s all about it. Besides, think
of the time saved! Dr. Vernes, the divisional
surgeon, would have taken two hours to spin his yarn!
Whereas, like this, Master Lupin will be compelled
to get his little story told in thirty minutes...
unless he wants to get himself collared and his accomplices
nabbed. What a shock! What a bolt from the
blue! Thirty minutes and not a minute more.
In thirty minutes from now, you’ll have to clear
out, scud away like a hare and beat a disordered retreat.
Ha, ha, ha, what fun! I say, Polonius, you really
are unlucky, each time you come up against Bibi Daubrecq!
For it was you who were hiding behind that curtain,
wasn’t it, my ill-starred Polonius?”
Lupin did not stir a muscle.
The one and only solution that would have calmed his
feelings, that is to say, for him to throttle his adversary
then and there, was so absurd that he preferred to
accept Daubrecq’s gibes without attempting to
retort, though each of them cut him like the lash
of a whip. It was the second time, in the same
room and in similar circumstances, that he had to
bow before that Daubrecq of misfortune and maintain
the most ridiculous attitude in silence. And he
felt convinced in his innermost being that, if he
opened his mouth, it would be to spit words of anger
and insult in his victor’s face. What was
the good? Was it not essential that he should
keep cool and do the things which the new situation
called for?
“Well, M. Lupin, well?”
resumed the deputy. “You look as if your
nose were out of joint. Come, console yourself
and admit that one sometimes comes across a joker
who’s not quite such a mug as his fellows.
So you thought that, because I wear spectacles and
eye-glasses, I was blind? Bless my soul, I don’t
say that I at once suspected Lupin behind Polonius
and Polonius behind the gentleman who came and bored
me in the box at the Vaudeville. No, no!
But, all the same, it worried me. I could see
that, between the police and Mme. Mergy, there
was a third bounder trying to get a finger in the
pie. And, gradually, what with the words let
fall by the portress, what with watching the movements
of my cook and making inquiries about her in the proper
quarter, I began to understand. Then, the other
night, came the lightning-flash. I heard the
row in the house, in spite of my being asleep.
I managed to reconstruct the incident, to follow up
Mme. Mergy’s traces, first, to the Rue
Chateaubriand and, afterward, to Saint-Germain...
And then... what then? I put different facts
together: the Enghien burglary... Gilbert’s
arrest... the inevitable treaty of alliance between
the weeping mother and the leader of the gang... the
old nurse installed as cook... all these people entering
my house through the doors or through the windows...
And I knew what I had to do. Master Lupin was
sniffing at the secret. The scent of the Twenty-seven
attracted him. I had only to wait for his visit.
The hour has arrived. Good-evening, Master Lupin.”
Daubrecq paused. He had delivered
his speech with the evident satisfaction of a man
entitled to claim the appreciation of the most captious
critics.
As Lupin did not speak, he took out
his watch: “I say! Only twenty-three
minutes! How time flies! At this rate, we
sha’n’t have time to come to an explanation.”
And, stepping still closer to Lupin, “I’m
bound to say, I’m disappointed. I thought
that Lupin was a different sort of gentleman.
So, the moment he meets a more or less serious adversary,
the colossus falls to pieces? Poor young man!
Have a glass of water, to bring you round!”
Lupin did not utter a word, did not betray a gesture
of irritation. With absolute composure, with a
precision of movement that showed his perfect self-control
and the clear plan of conduct which he had adopted,
he gently pushed Daubrecq aside, went to the table
and, in his turn, took down the receiver of the telephone:
“I want 565.34, please,” he said.
He waited until he was through; and
then, speaking in a slow voice and picking out every
syllable, he said:
“Hullo!... Rue Chateaubriand?...
Is that you, Achille?... Yes, it’s the
governor. Listen to me carefully, Achille...
You must leave the flat! Hullo!... Yes,
at once. The police are coming in a few minutes.
No, no, don’t lose your head... You’ve
got time. Only, do what I tell you. Is your
bag still packed?... Good. And is one of
the sides empty, as I told you?... Good.
Well, go to my bedroom and stand with your face to
the chimney-piece. Press with your left hand
on the little carved rosette in front of the marble
slab, in the middle, and with your right hand on the
top of the mantel-shelf. You’ll see a sort
of drawer, with two little boxes in it. Be careful.
One of them contains all our papers; the other, bank-notes
and jewellery. Put them both in the empty compartment
of the bag. Take the bag in your hand and go
as fast as you can, on foot, to the corner of the
Avenue Victor-Hugo and the Avenue de Montespan.
You’ll find the car waiting, with Victoire.
I’ll join you there... What?... My
clothes? My knickknacks?... Never mind about
all that... You be off. See you presently.”
Lupin quietly pushed away the telephone.
Then, taking Daubrecq by the arm, he made him sit
in a chair by his side and said:
“And now listen to me, Daubrecq.”
“Oho!” grinned the deputy. “Calling
each other by our surnames, are we?”
“Yes,” said Lupin, “I
allowed you to.” And, when Daubrecq released
his arm with a certain misgiving, he said, “No,
don’t be afraid. We sha’n’t
come to blows. Neither of us has anything to gain
by doing away with the other. A stab with a knife?
What’s the good? No, sir! Words, nothing
but words. Words that strike home, though.
Here are mine: they are plain and to the point.
Answer me in the same way, without reflecting:
that’s far better. The boy?”
“I have him.”
“Give him back.”
“No.”
“Mme. Mergy will kill herself.”
“No, she won’t.”
“I tell you she will.”
“And I tell you she will not.”
“But she’s tried to, once.”
“That’s just the reason why she won’t
try again.”
“Well, then...”
“No.”
Lupin, after a moment, went on:
“I expected that. Also,
I thought, on my way here, that you would hardly tumble
to the story of Dr. Vernes and that I should have to
use other methods.”
“Lupin’s methods.”
“As you say. I had made
up my mind to throw off the mask. You pulled it
off for me. Well done you! But that doesn’t
change my plans.”
“Speak.”
Lupin took from a pocketbook a double
sheet of foolscap paper, unfolded it and handed it
to Daubrecq, saying:
“Here is an exact, detailed
inventory, with consecutive numbers, of the things
removed by my friends and myself from your Villa Marie-Therese
on the Lac d’Enghien. As you see, there
are one hundred and thirteen items. Of those
one hundred and thirteen items, sixty-eight, which
have a red cross against them, have been sold and
sent to America. The remainder, numbering forty-five,
are in my possession... until further orders.
They happen to be the pick of the bunch. I offer
you them in return for the immediate surrender of
the child.”
Daubrecq could not suppress a movement of surprise:
“Oho!” he said. “You seem very
much bent upon it.”
“Infinitely,” said Lupin,
“for I am persuaded that a longer separation
from her son will mean death to Mme. Mergy.”
“And that upsets you, does it... Lothario?”
“What!”
Lupin planted himself in front of the other and repeated:
“What! What do you mean?”
“Nothing... Nothing...
Something that crossed my mind... Clarisse Mergy
is a young woman still and a pretty woman at that.”
Lupin shrugged his shoulders:
“You brute!” he mumbled.
“You imagine that everybody is like yourself,
heartless and pitiless. It takes your breath away,
what, to think that a shark like me can waste his
time playing the Don Quixote? And you wonder
what dirty motive I can have? Don’t try
to find out: it’s beyond your powers of
perception. Answer me, instead: do you accept?”
“So you’re serious?”
asked Daubrecq, who seemed but little disturbed by
Lupin’s contemptuous tone.
“Absolutely. The forty-five
pieces are in a shed, of which I will give you the
address, and they will be handed over to you, if you
call there, at nine o’clock this evening, with
the child.”
There was no doubt about Daubrecq’s
reply. To him, the kidnapping of little Jacques
had represented only a means of working upon Clarisse
Mergy’s feelings and perhaps also a warning for
her to cease the contest upon which she had engaged.
But the threat of a suicide must needs show Daubrecq
that he was on the wrong track. That being so,
why refuse the favourable bargain which Arsène Lupin
was now offering him?
“I accept,” he said.
“Here’s the address of
my shed: 99, Rue Charles-Lafitte, Neuilly.
You have only to ring the bell.”
“And suppose I send Prasville,
the secretary-general, instead?”
“If you send Prasville,”
Lupin declared, “the place is so arranged that
I shall see him coming and that I shall have time to
escape, after setting fire to the trusses of hay and
straw which surround and conceal your credence-tables,
clocks and Gothic virgins.”
“But your shed will be burnt down...”
“I don’t mind that:
the police have their eye on it already. I am
leaving it in any case.”
“And how am I to know that this is not a trap?”
“Begin by receiving the goods
and don’t give up the child till afterward.
I trust you, you see.”
“Good,” said Daubrecq;
“you’ve foreseen everything. Very
well, you shall have the nipper; the fair Clarisse
shall live; and we will all be happy. And now,
if I may give you a word of advice, it is to pack off
as fast as you can.”
“Not yet.”
“Eh?”
“I said, not yet.”
“But you’re mad! Prasville’s
on his way!”
“He can wait. I’ve not done.”
“Why, what more do you want?
Clarisse shall have her brat. Isn’t that
enough for you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“There is another son.”
“Gilbert.”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“I want you to save Gilbert.”
“What are you saying? I save Gilbert!”
“You can, if you like; it only
means taking a little trouble.” Until that
moment Daubrecq had remained quite calm. He now
suddenly blazed out and, striking the table with his
fist:
“No,” he cried, “not
that! Never! Don’t reckon on me!...
No, that would be too idiotic!”
He walked up and down, in a state
of intense excitement, with that queer step of his,
which swayed him from right to left on each of his
legs, like a wild beast, a heavy, clumsy bear.
And, with a hoarse voice and distorted features, he
shouted:
“Let her come here! Let
her come and beg for her son’s pardon! But
let her come unarmed, not with criminal intentions,
like last time! Let her come as a supplicant,
as a tamed woman, as a submissive woman, who understands
and accepts the situation... Gilbert? Gilbert’s
sentence? The scaffold? Why, that is where
my strength lies! What! For more than twenty
years have I awaited my hour; and, when that hour strikes,
when fortune brings me this unhoped-for chance, when
I am at last about to know the joy of a full revenge and
such a revenge! you think that I will give
it up, give up the thing which I have been pursuing
for twenty years? I save Gilbert? I?
For nothing? For love? I, Daubrecq?...
No, no, you can’t have studied my features!”
He laughed, with a fierce and hateful
laugh. Visibly, he saw before him, within reach
of his hand, the prey which he had been hunting down
so long. And Lupin also summoned up the vision
of Clarisse, as he had seen her several days before,
fainting, already beaten, fatally conquered, because
all the hostile powers were in league against her.
He contained himself and said:
“Listen to me.”
And, when Daubrecq moved away impatiently,
he took him by the two shoulders, with that superhuman
strength which Daubrecq knew, from having felt it
in the box at the Vaudeville, and, holding him motionless
in his grip, he said:
“One last word.”
“You’re wasting your breath,” growled
the deputy.
“One last word. Listen,
Daubrecq: forget Mme. Mergy, give up all
the nonsensical and imprudent acts which your pride
and your passions are making you commit; put all that
on one side and think only of your interest...”
“My interest,” said Daubrecq,
jestingly, “always coincides with my pride and
with what you call my passions.”
“Up to the present, perhaps.
But not now, not now that I have taken a hand in the
business. That constitutes a new factor, which
you choose to ignore. You are wrong. Gilbert
is my pal. Gilbert is my chum. Gilbert has
to be saved from the scaffold. Use your influence
to that end, and I swear to you, do you hear, I swear
that we will leave you in peace. Gilbert’s
safety, that’s all I ask. You will have
no more battles to wage with Mme. Mergy, with
me; there will be no more traps laid for you.
You will be the master, free to act as you please.
Gilbert’s safety, Daubrecq! If you refuse...”
“What then?”
“If you refuse, it will be war,
relentless war; in other words, a certain defeat for
you.”
“Meaning thereby...”
“Meaning thereby that I shall
take the list of the Twenty-seven from you.”
“Rot! You think so, do you?”
“I swear it.”
“What Prasville and all his
men, what Clarisse Mergy, what nobody has been able
to do, you think that you will do!”
“I shall!”
“And why? By favour of
what saint will you succeed where everybody else has
failed? There must be a reason?”
“There is.”
“What is it?”
“My name is Arsène Lupin.”
He had let go of Daubrecq, but held
him for a time under the dominion of his authoritative
glance and will. At last, Daubrecq drew himself
up, gave him a couple of sharp taps on the shoulder
and, with the same calm, the same intense obstinacy,
said:
“And my name’s Daubrecq.
My whole life has been one desperate battle, one long
series of catastrophes and routs in which I spent all
my energies until victory came: complete, decisive,
crushing, irrevocable victory. I have against
me the police, the government, France, the world.
What difference do you expect it to make to me if I
have M. Arsène Lupin against me into the bargain?
I will go further: the more numerous and skilful
my enemies, the more cautiously I am obliged to play.
And that is why, my dear sir, instead of having you
arrested, as I might have done yes, as
I might have done and very easily I let
you remain at large and beg charitably to remind you
that you must quit in less than three minutes.”
“Then the answer is no?”
“The answer is no.”
“You won’t do anything for Gilbert?”
“Yes, I shall continue to do
what I have been doing since his arrest that
is to say, to exercise indirect influence with the
minister of justice, so that the trial may be hurried
on and end in the way in which I want to see it end.”
“What!” cried Lupin, beside
himself with indignation. “It’s because
of you, it’s for you...”
“Yes, it’s for me, Daubrecq;
yes, by Jove! I have a trump card, the son’s
head, and I am playing it. When I have procured
a nice little death-sentence for Gilbert, when the
days go by and Gilbert’s petition for a reprieve
is rejected by my good offices, you shall see, M. Lupin,
that his mummy will drop all her objections to calling
herself Mme. Alexis Daubrecq and giving me an
unexceptionable pledge of her good-will. That
fortunate issue is inevitable, whether you like it
or not. It is foredoomed. All I can do for
you is to invite you to the wedding and the breakfast.
Does that suit you? No? You persist in your
sinister designs? Well, good luck, lay your traps,
spread your nets, rub up your weapons and grind away
at the Complete Foreign-post-paper Burglar’s
Handbook. You’ll need it. And now,
good-night. The rules of open-handed and disinterested
hospitality demand that I should turn you out of doors.
Hop it!”
Lupin remained silent for some time.
With his eyes fixed on Daubrecq, he seemed to be taking
his adversary’s size, gauging his weight, estimating
his physical strength, discussing, in fine, in which
exact part to attack him. Daubrecq clenched his
fists and worked out his plan of defence to meet the
attack when it came.
Half a minute passed. Lupin put
his hand to his hip-pocket. Daubrecq did the
same and grasped the handle of his revolver.
A few seconds more. Coolly, Lupin
produced a little gold box of the kind that ladies
use for holding sweets, opened it and handed it to
Daubrecq:
“A lozenge?”
“What’s that?” asked the other,
in surprise.
“Cough-drops.”
“What for?”
“For the draught you’re going to feel!”
And, taking advantage of the momentary
fluster into which Daubrecq was thrown by his sally,
he quickly took his hat and slipped away.
“Of course,” he said,
as he crossed the hall, “I am knocked into fits.
But all the same, that bit of commercial-traveller’s
waggery was rather novel, in the circumstances.
To expect a pill and receive a cough-drop is by way
of being a sort of disappointment. It left the
old chimpanzee quite flummoxed.”
As he closed the gate, a motor-car
drove up and a man sprang out briskly, followed by
several others.
Lupin recognized Prasville:
“Monsieur lé secrétaire-general,”
he muttered, “your humble servant. I have
an idea that, some day, fate will bring us face to
face: and I am sorry, for your sake; for you
do not inspire me with any particular esteem and you
have a bad time before you, on that day. Meanwhile,
if I were not in such a hurry, I should wait till
you leave and I should follow Daubrecq to find out
in whose charge he has placed the child whom he is
going to hand back to me. But I am in a hurry.
Besides, I can’t tell that Daubrecq won’t
act by telephone. So let us not waste ourselves
in vain efforts, but rather join Victoire, Achille
and our precious bag.”
Two hours later, Lupin, after taking
all his measures, was on the lookout in his shed at
Neuilly and saw Daubrecq turn out of an adjoining
street and walk along with a distrustful air.
Lupin himself opened the double doors:
“Your things are in here,
monsieur lé depute,” he said.
“You can go round and look. There is a
job-master’s yard next door: you have only
to ask for a van and a few men. Where is the
child?”
Daubrecq first inspected the articles
and then took Lupin to the Avenue de Neuilly, where
two closely veiled old ladies stood waiting with little
Jacques.
Lupin carried the child to his car,
where Victoire was waiting for him.
All this was done swiftly, without
useless words and as though the parts had been got
by heart and the various movements settled in advance,
like so many stage entrances and exits.
At ten o’clock in the evening
Lupin kept his promise and handed little Jacques to
his mother. But the doctor had to be hurriedly
called in, for the child, upset by all those happenings,
showed great signs of excitement and terror.
It was more than a fortnight before he was sufficiently
recovered to bear the strain of the removal which Lupin
considered necessary. Mme. Mergy herself
was only just fit to travel when the time came.
The journey took place at night, with every possible
precaution and under Lupin’s escort.
He took the mother and son to a little
seaside place in Brittany and entrusted them to Victoire’s
care and vigilance.
“At last,” he reflected,
when he had seen them settled, “there is no one
between the Daubrecq bird and me. He can do nothing
more to Mme. Mergy and the kid; and she no longer
runs the risk of diverting the struggle through her
intervention. By Jingo, we have made blunders
enough! First, I have had to disclose myself
to Daubrecq. Secondly, I have had to surrender
my share of the Enghien movables. True, I shall
get those back, sooner or later; of that there is
not the least doubt. But, all the same, we are
not getting on; and, in a week from now, Gilbert and
Vaucheray will be up for trial.”
What Lupin felt most in the whole
business was Daubrecq’s revelation of the whereabouts
of the flat. The police had entered his place
in the Rue Chateaubriand. The identity of Lupin
and Michel Beaumont had been recognized and certain
papers discovered; and Lupin, while pursuing his aim,
while, at the same time, managing various enterprises
on which he had embarked, while avoiding the searches
of the police, which were becoming more zealous and
persistent than ever, had to set to work and reorganize
his affairs throughout on a fresh basis.
His rage with Daubrecq, therefore,
increased in proportion to the worry which the deputy
caused him. He had but one longing, to pocket
him, as he put it, to have him at his bidding by fair
means or foul, to extract his secret from him.
He dreamt of tortures fit to unloose the tongue of
the most silent of men. The boot, the rack, red-hot
pincers, nailed planks: no form of suffering,
he thought, was more than the enemy deserved; and
the end to be attained justified every means.
“Oh,” he said to himself,
“oh, for a decent bench of inquisitors and a
couple of bold executioners!... What a time we
should have!”
Every afternoon the Growler and the
Masher watched the road which Daubrecq took between
the Square Lamartine, the Chamber of Deputies and
his club. Their instructions were to choose the
most deserted street and the most favourable moment
and, one evening, to hustle him into a motor-car.
Lupin, on his side, got ready an old
building, standing in the middle of a large garden,
not far from Paris, which presented all the necessary
conditions of safety and isolation and which he called
the Monkey’s Cage.
Unfortunately, Daubrecq must have
suspected something, for every time, so to speak,
he changed his route, or took the underground or a
tram; and the cage remained unoccupied.
Lupin devised another plan. He
sent to Marseilles for one of his associates, an elderly
retired grocer called Brindebois, who happened to
live in Daubrecq’s electoral district and interested
himself in politics. Old Brindebois wrote to
Daubrecq from Marseilles, announcing his visit.
Daubrecq gave this important constituent a hearty welcome,
and a dinner was arranged for the following week.
The elector suggested a little restaurant
on the left bank of the Seine, where the food, he
said, was something wonderful. Daubrecq accepted.
This was what Lupin wanted. The
proprietor of the restaurant was one of his friends.
The attempt, which was to take place on the following
Thursday, was this time bound to succeed.
Meanwhile, on the Monday of the same
week, the trial of Gilbert and Vaucheray opened.
The reader will remember and
the case took place too recently for me to recapitulate
its details the really incomprehensible
partiality which the presiding judge showed in his
cross-examination of Gilbert. The thing was noticed
and severely criticised at the time. Lupin recognized
Daubrecq’s hateful influence.
The attitude observed by the two prisoners
differed greatly. Vaucheray was gloomy, silent,
hard-faced. He cynically, in curt, sneering, almost
defiant phrases, admitted the crimes of which he had
formerly been guilty. But, with an inconsistency
which puzzled everybody except Lupin, he denied any
participation in the murder of Leonard the valet and
violently accused Gilbert. His object, in thus
linking his fate with Gilbert’s, was to force
Lupin to take identical measures for the rescue of
both his accomplices.
Gilbert, on the other hand, whose
frank countenance and dreamy, melancholy eyes won
every sympathy, was unable to protect himself against
the traps laid for him by the judge or to counteract
Vaucheray’s lies. He burst into tears,
talked too much, or else did not talk when he should
have talked. Moreover, his counsel, one of the
Leaders of the bar, was taken ill at the last moment and
here again Lupin saw the hand of Daubrecq and
he was replaced by a junior who spoke badly, muddied
the whole case, set the jury against him and failed
to wipe out the impression produced by the speeches
of the advocate-general and of Vaucheray’s counsel.
Lupin, who had the inconceivable audacity
to be present on the last day of the trial, the Thursday,
had no doubt as to the result. A verdict of guilty
was certain in both cases.
It was certain because all the efforts
of the prosecution, thus supporting Vaucheray’s
tactics, had tended to link the two prisoners closely
together. It was certain, also and above all,
because it concerned two of Lupin’s accomplices.
From the opening of the inquiry before the magistrate
until the delivery of the verdict, all the proceedings
had been directed against Lupin; and this in spite
of the fact that the prosecution, for want of sufficient
evidence and also in order not to scatter its efforts
over too wide an area, had decided not to include
Lupin in the indictment. He was the adversary
aimed at, the leader who must be punished in the person
of his friends, the famous and popular scoundrel whose
fascination in the eyes of the crowd must be destroyed
for good and all. With Gilbert and Vaucheray executed,
Lupin’s halo would fade away and the legend
would be exploded.
Lupin... Lupin... Arsène
Lupin: it was the one name heard throughout the
four days. The advocate-general, the presiding
judge, the jury, the counsel, the witnesses had no
other words on their lips. Every moment, Lupin
was mentioned and cursed at, scoffed at, insulted and
held responsible for all the crimes committed.
It was as though Gilbert and Vaucheray figured only
as supernumeraries, while the real criminal undergoing
trial was he, Lupin, Master Lupin, Lupin the burglar,
the leader of a gang of thieves, the forger, the incendiary,
the hardened offender, the ex-convict, Lupin the murderer,
Lupin stained with the blood of his victim, Lupin
lurking in the shade, like a coward, after sending
his friends to the foot of the scaffold.
“Oh, the rascals know what they’re
about!” he muttered. “It’s my
debt which they are making my poor old Gilbert pay.”
And the terrible tragedy went on.
At seven o’clock in the evening,
after a long deliberation, the jury returned to court
and the foreman read out the answers to the questions
put from the bench. The answer was “Yes”
to every count of the indictment, a verdict of guilty
without extenuating circumstances.
The prisoners were brought in.
Standing up, but staggering and white-faced, they
received their sentence of death.
And, amid the great, solemn silence,
in which the anxiety of the onlookers was mingled
with pity, the assize-president asked:
“Have you anything more to say, Vaucheray?”
“Nothing, monsieur lé
president. Now that my mate is sentenced as well
as myself, I am easy... We are both on the same
footing... The governor must find a way to save
the two of us.”
“The governor?”
“Yes, Arsène Lupin.”
There was a laugh among the crowd.
The president asked:
“And you, Gilbert?”
Tears streamed down the poor lad’s
cheeks and he stammered a few inarticulate sentences.
But, when the judge repeated his question, he succeeded
in mastering himself and replied, in a trembling voice:
“I wish to say, monsieur
lé president, that I am guilty of many things,
that’s true... I have done a lot of harm...
But, all the same, not this. No, I have not committed
murder... I have never committed murder...
And I don’t want to die... it would be too horrible...”
He swayed from side to side, supported
by the warders, and he was heard to cry, like a child
calling for help:
“Governor... save me!...
Save me!... I don’t want to die!”
Then, in the crowd, amid the general
excitement, a voice rose above the surrounding clamour:
“Don’t be afraid, little ’un!...
The governor’s here!”
A tumult and hustling followed.
The municipal guards and the policemen rushed into
court and laid hold of a big, red-faced man, who was
stated by his neighbours to be the author of that
outburst and who struggled hand and foot.
Questioned without delay, he gave
his name, Philippe Bonel, an undertaker’s man,
and declared that some one sitting beside him had
offered him a hundred-franc note if he would consent,
at the proper moment, to shout a few words which his
neighbour scribbled on a bit of paper. How could
he refuse?
In proof of his statements, he produced
the hundred-franc note and the scrap of paper.
Philippe Bonel was let go.
Meanwhile, Lupin, who of course had
assisted energetically in the individual’s arrest
and handed him over to the guards, left the law-courts,
his heart heavy with anguish. His car was waiting
for him on the quay. He flung himself into it,
in despair, seized with so great a sorrow that he
had to make an effort to restrain his tears. Gilbert’s
cry, his voice wrung with affliction, his distorted
features, his tottering frame: all this haunted
his brain; and he felt as if he would never, for a
single second, forget those impressions.
He drove home to the new place which
he had selected among his different residences and
which occupied a corner of the Place de Clichy.
He expected to find the Growler and the Masher, with
whom he was to kidnap Daubrecq that evening.
But he had hardly opened the door of his flat, when
a cry escaped him: Clarisse stood before him;
Clarisse, who had returned from Brittany at the moment
of the verdict.
He at once gathered from her attitude
and her pallor that she knew. And, at once, recovering
his courage in her presence, without giving her time
to speak, he exclaimed:
“Yes, yes, yes... but it doesn’t
matter. We foresaw that. We couldn’t
prevent it. What we have to do is to stop the
mischief. And to-night, you understand, to-night,
the thing will be done.”
Motionless and tragic in her sorrow, she stammered:
“To-night?”
“Yes. I have prepared everything.
In two hours, Daubrecq will be in my hands. To-night,
whatever means I have to employ, he shall speak.”
“Do you mean that?” she
asked, faintly, while a ray of hope began to light
up her face.
“He shall speak. I shall
have his secret. I shall tear the list of the
Twenty-seven from him. And that list will set
your son free.”
“Too late,” Clarisse murmured.
“Too late? Why? Do
you think that, in exchange for such a document, I
shall not obtain Gilbert’s pretended escape?...
Why, Gilbert will be at liberty in three days!
In three days...”
He was interrupted by a ring at the bell:
“Listen, here are our friends.
Trust me. Remember that I keep my promises.
I gave you back your little Jacques. I shall give
you back Gilbert.”
He went to let the Growler and the Masher in and said:
“Is everything ready? Is
old Brindebois at the restaurant? Quick, let us
be off!”
“It’s no use, governor,” replied
the Masher.
“No use? What do you mean?”
“There’s news.”
“What news? Speak, man!”
“Daubrecq has disappeared.”
“Eh? What’s that? Daubrecq disappeared?”
“Yes, carried off from his house, in broad daylight.”
“The devil! By whom?”
“Nobody knows... four men...
there were pistols fired... The police are on
the spot. Prasville is directing the investigations.”
Lupin did not move a limb. He
looked at Clarisse Mergy, who lay huddled in a chair.
He himself had to bow his head.
Daubrecq carried off meant one more chance of success
lost...