Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes (13 page)

At the terminal point Herlock Sholmes, by leaning over, saw Arsène Lupin leaving the omnibus, and as he passed in front of the men who formed his bodyguard Sholmes heard him say: “Á l’Etoile.”

“Á l’Etoile, exactly, a rendezvous. I shall be there,” thought Sholmes. “I will follow the two men.”

Lupin took an automobile; but the men walked the entire distance, followed by Sholmes. They stopped at a narrow house, No. 40 rue Chalgrin, and rang the bell. Sholmes took his position in the shadow of a doorway, whence he could watch the house in question. A man opened one of the windows of the ground floor and closed the shutters. But the shutters did not reach to the top of the window. The impost was clear.

At the end of ten minutes a gentleman rang at the same door and a few minutes later another man came. A short time afterward an automobile stopped in front of the house, bringing two passengers: Arsène Lupin and a lady concealed beneath a large cloak and a thick veil.

“The Blonde Lady, no doubt,” said Sholmes to himself, as the automobile drove away.

Herlock Sholmes now approached the house, climbed to the window-ledge and, by standing on tiptoe, he was able to see through the window above the shutters. What did he see?

Arsène Lupin, leaning against the mantel, was speaking with considerable animation. The others were grouped around him, listening to him attentively. Amongst them Sholmes easily recognized the gentleman in the frock coat and he thought one of the other men resembled the head-waiter of the restaurant. As to the Blonde Lady, she was seated in an armchair with her back to the window.

“They are holding a consultation,” thought Sholmes. “They are worried over the incident at the restaurant and are holding a council of war. Ah! What a master stroke it would be to capture all of them at one fell stroke!”

One of them, having moved toward the door, Sholmes leaped to the ground and concealed himself in the shadow. The gentleman in the frock coat and the head-waiter left the house. A moment later a light appeared at the windows of the first floor, but the shutters were closed immediately and the upper part of the house was dark as well as the lower.

“Lupin and the woman are on the ground floor; the two confederates live on the upper floor,” said Sholmes.

Sholmes remained there the greater part of the night, fearing that if he went away Arsène Lupin might leave during his absence. At four o’clock, seeing two policemen at the end of the street, he approached them, explained the situation and left them to watch the house. He went to Ganimard’s residence in the rue Pergolese and wakened him.

“I have him yet,” said Sholmes.

“Arsène Lupin?”

“Yes.”

“If you haven’t got any better hold on him than you had a while ago, I might as well go back to bed. But we may as well go to the station-house.”

They went to the police station in the rue Mesnil and from there to the residence of the commissary, Mon. Decointre. Then, accompanied by half a dozen policemen, they went to the rue Chalgrin.

“Anything new?” asked Sholmes, addressing the two policemen.

“Nothing.”

It was just breaking day when, after taking necessary measures to prevent escape, the commissary rang the bell and commenced to question the concierge. The woman was greatly frightened at this early morning invasion, and she trembled as she replied that there were no tenants on the ground floor.

“What! Not a tenant?” exclaimed Ganimard.

“No; but on the first floor there are two men named Leroux. They have furnished the apartment on the ground floor for some country relations.”

“A gentleman and lady.”

“Yes.”

“Who came here last night.”

“Perhaps … but I don’t know … I was asleep. But I don’t think so, for the key is here. They did not ask for it.”

With that key the commissary opened the door of the ground-floor apartment. It comprised only two rooms and they were empty.

“Impossible!” exclaimed Sholmes. “I saw both of them in this room.”

“I don’t doubt your word,” said the commissary; “but they are not here now.”

“Let us go to the first floor. They must be there.”

“The first floor is occupied by two men named Leroux.”

“We will examine the Messieurs Leroux.”

They all ascended the stairs and the commissary rang. At the second ring a man opened the door; he was in his shirt-sleeves. Sholmes recognized him as one of Lupin’s bodyguard. The man assumed a furious air:

“What do you mean by making such a row at this hour of the morning … waking people up … ”

But he stopped suddenly, astounded.

“God forgive me! … Really, gentlemen, I didn’t notice who it was. Why, it is Monsieur Decointre! … And you, Monsieur Ganimard. What can I do for you?”

Ganimard burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, which caused him to bend double and turn black in the face.

“Ah! It is you, Leroux,” he stammered. “Oh! This is too funny! Leroux, an accomplice of Arsène Lupin! Oh, I shall die! And your brother, Leroux, where is he?”

“Edmond!” called the man. “It is Ganimard, who has come to visit us.”

Another man appeared and at sight of him Ganimard’s mirth redoubled.

“Oh! Oh! We had no idea of this! Ah! My friends, you are in a bad fix now. Who would have ever suspected it?”

Turning to Sholmes, Ganimard introduced the man:

“Victor Leroux, a detective from our office, one of the best men in the iron brigade … Edmond Leroux, chief clerk in the anthropometric service.”

CHAPTER V.

AN ABDUCTION.

HERLOCK SHOLMES SAID NOTHING.
To protest? To accuse the two men? That would be useless. In the absence of evidence which he did not possess and had no time to seek, no one would believe him. Moreover, he was stifled with rage, but would not display his feelings before the triumphant Ganimard. So he bowed respectfully to the brothers Leroux, guardians of society, and retired.

In the vestibule he turned toward a low door which looked like the entrance to a cellar, and picked up a small red stone; it was a garnet. When he reached the street he turned and read on the front of the house this inscription: “Lucien Destange, architect, 1877.”

The adjoining house, No. 42, bore the same inscription.

“Always the double passage—numbers 40 and 42 have a secret means of communication. Why didn’t I think of that? I should have remained with the two policemen.”

He met the policemen near the corner and said to them:

“Two people came out of house No. 42 during my absence, didn’t they?”

“Yes; a gentleman and lady.”

Ganimard approached. Sholmes took his arm, and as they walked down the street he said:

“Monsieur Ganimard, you have had a good laugh and will no doubt forgive me for the trouble I have caused you.”

“Oh! There’s no harm done; but it was a good joke.”

“I admit that; but the best jokes have only a short life, and this one can’t last much longer.”

“I hope not.”

“This is now the seventh day, and I can remain only three days more. Then I must return to London.”

“Oh!”

“I wish to ask you to be in readiness, as I may call on you at any hour on Tuesday or Wednesday night.”

“For an expedition of the same kind as we had to-night?”

“Yes, monsieur, the very same.”

“With what result?”

“The capture of Arsène Lupin,” replied Sholmes.

“Do you think so?”

“I swear it, on my honor, monsieur.”

Sholmes bade Ganimard good-bye and went to the nearest hotel for a few hours’ sleep; after which, refreshed and with renewed confidence in himself, he returned to the rue Chalgrin, slipped two louis into the hand of the concierge, assured himself that the brothers Leroux had gone out, learned that the house belonged to a Monsieur Harmingeat, and, provided with a candle, descended to the cellar through the low door near which he had found the garnet. At the bottom of the stairs he found another exactly like it.

“I am not mistaken,” he thought; “this is the means of communication. Let me see if my skeleton-key will open the cellar reserved for the tenant of the ground floor. Yes; it will. Now, I will examine those cases of wine … Oh! Oh! Here are some places where the dust has been cleared away … and some footprints on the ground. … ”

A slight noise caused him to listen attentively. Quickly he pushed the door shut, blew out his candle and hid behind a pile of empty wine cases. After a few seconds he noticed that a portion of the wall swung on a pivot, the light of a lantern was thrown into the cellar, an arm appeared, then a man entered.

He was bent over, as if he were searching for something. He felt in the dust with his fingers and several times he threw something into a cardboard box that he carried in his left hand. Afterward he obliterated the traces of his footsteps, as well as the footprints left by Lupin and the Blonde Lady, and he was about to leave the cellar by the same way as he had entered, when he uttered a harsh cry and fell to the ground. Sholmes had leaped upon him. It was the work of a moment, and in the simplest manner in the world the man found himself stretched on the ground, bound and handcuffed. The Englishman leaned over him and said:

“Have you anything to say? … To tell what you know?”

The man replied by such an ironical smile that Sholmes realized the futility of questioning him. So he contented himself by exploring the pockets of his captive, but he found only a bunch of keys, a handkerchief and the small cardboard box which contained a dozen garnets similar to those which Sholmes had found.

Then what was he to do with the man? Wait until his friends came to his help and deliver all of them to the police? What good would that do? What advantage would that give him over Lupin?

He hesitated; but an examination of the box decided the question. The box bore this name and address: “Leonard, jeweler, rue de la Paix.”

He resolved to abandon the man to his fate. He locked the cellar and left the house. At a branch post office he sent a telegram to Monsieur Destange, saying that he could not come that day. Then he went to see the jeweler and, handing him the garnets, said:

“Madame sent me with these stones. She wishes to have them reset.”

Sholmes had struck the right key. The jeweler replied:

“Certainly; the lady telephoned to me. She said she would be here to-day.”

Sholmes established himself on the sidewalk to wait for the lady, but it was five o’clock when he saw a heavily-veiled lady approach and enter the store. Through the window he saw her place on the counter a piece of antique jewelry set with garnets.

She went away almost immediately, walking quickly and passed through streets that were unknown to the Englishman. As it was now almost dark, he walked close behind her and followed her into a five-story house of double flats and, therefore, occupied by numerous tenants. At the second floor she stopped and entered. Two minutes later the Englishman commenced to try the keys on the bunch he had taken from the man in the rue Chalgrin. The fourth key fitted the lock.

Notwithstanding the darkness of the rooms, he perceived that they were absolutely empty, as if unoccupied, and the various doors were standing open so that he could see all the apartments. At the end of a corridor he perceived a ray of light and, by approaching on tiptoe and looking through the glass door, he saw the veiled lady who had removed her hat and dress and was now wearing a velvet dressing-gown. The discarded garments were lying on the only chair in the room and a lighted lamp stood on the mantel.

Then he saw her approach the fireplace and press what appeared to be the button of an electric bell. Immediately the panel to the right of the fireplace moved and slowly glided behind the adjoining panel, thus disclosing an opening large enough for a person to pass through. The lady disappeared through this opening, taking the lamp with her.

The operation was a very simple one. Sholmes adopted it and followed the lady. He found himself in total darkness and immediately he felt his face brushed by some soft articles. He lighted a match and found that he was in a very small room completely filled with cloaks and dresses suspended on hangers. He picked his way through until he reached a door that was draped with a portiére. He peeped through and, behold, the Blonde Lady was there, under his eyes, and almost within reach of his hand.

She extinguished the lamp and turned on the electric lights. Then for the first time Herlock Sholmes obtained a good look at her face. He was amazed. The woman, whom he had overtaken after so much trouble and after so many tricks and manoeuvres, was none other than Clotilde Destange.

Clotilde Destange, the assassin of the Baron d’Hautrec and the thief who stole the blue diamond! Clotilde Destange, the mysterious friend of Arsène Lupin! And the Blonde Lady!

“Yes, I am only a stupid ass,” thought Herlock Sholmes at that moment. “Because Lupin’s friend was a blonde and Clotilde is a brunette, I never dreamed that they were the same person. But how could the Blonde Lady remain a blonde after the murder of the Baron and the theft of the diamond?”

Sholmes could see a portion of the room; it was a boudoir, furnished with the most delightful luxury and exquisite taste, and adorned with beautiful tapestries and costly ornaments. A mahogany couch, upholstered in silk, was located on the side of the room opposite the door at which Sholmes was standing. Clotilde was sitting on this couch, motionless, her face covered by her hands. Then he perceived that she was weeping. Great tears rolled down her pale cheeks and fell, drop by drop, on the velvet corsage. The tears came thick and fast, as if their source were inexhaustible.

A door silently opened behind her and Arsène Lupin entered. He looked at her for a long time without making his presence known; then he approached her, knelt at her feet, pressed her head to his breast, folded her in his arms, and his actions indicated an infinite measure of love and sympathy. For a time not a word was uttered, but her tears became less abundant.

“I was so anxious to make you happy,” he murmured.

“I am happy.”

“No; you are crying … Your tears break my heart, Clotilde.”