Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes (3 page)

The abduction must have taken place in broad daylight, on a frequented street, in the very heart of the town. How? And at what spot? Not a cry was heard; not a suspicious action had been seen. The shopkeeper described the automobile as a royal-blue limousine of twenty-four horse-power made by the firm of Peugeon & Co. Inquiries were then made at the Grand-Garage, managed by Madame Bob-Walthour, who made a specialty of abductions by automobile. It was learned that she had rented a Peugeon limousine on that day to a blonde woman whom she had never seen before nor since.

“Who was the chauffeur?”

“A young man named Ernest, whom I had engaged only the day before. He came well recommended.”

“Is he here now?”

“No. He brought back the machine, but I haven’t seen him since,” said Madame Bob-Walthour.

“Do you know where we can find him?”

“You might see the people who recommended him to me. Here are the names.”

Upon inquiry, it was learned that none of these people knew the man called Ernest. The recommendations were forged.

Such was the fate of every clue followed by the police. It ended nowhere. The mystery remained unsolved.
Mon. Gerbois had not the strength or courage to wage such an unequal battle. The disappearance of his daughter crushed him;, he capitulated to the enemy. A short announcement in the 
Echo de France
 proclaimed his unconditional surrender.

Two days later, Mon. Gerbois visited the office of the Crédit Foncier and handed lottery ticket number 514, series 23, to the governor, who exclaimed, with surprise:

“Ah! You have it! He has returned it to you!”

“It was mislaid. That was all,” replied Mon. Gerbois.

“But you pretended that it had been stolen.”

“At first, I thought it had … but here it is.”

“We will require some evidence to establish your right to the ticket.”

“Will the letter of the purchaser, Monsieur Bessy, be sufficient?”

“Yes, that will do.”

“Here it is,” said Mon. Gerbois, producing the letter.

“Very well. Leave these papers with us. The rules of the lottery allow us fifteen days’ time to investigate your claim. I will let you know when to call for your money. I presume you desire, as much as I do, that this affair should be closed without further publicity.”

“Quite so.”

Mon. Gerbois and the governor henceforth maintained a discreet silence. But the secret was revealed in some way, for it was soon commonly known that Arsène Lupin had returned the lottery ticket to Mon. Gerbois. The public received the news with astonishment and admiration. Certainly, he was a bold gamester who thus threw upon the table a trump card of such importance as the precious ticket. But, it was true, he still retained a trump card of equal importance. However, if the young girl should escape? If the hostage held by Arsène Lupin should be rescued?

The police thought they had discovered the weak spot of the enemy, and now redoubled their efforts. Arsène Lupin disarmed by his own act, crushed by the wheels of his own machination, deprived of every sou of the coveted million … public interest now centred in the camp of his adversary.

But it was necessary to find Suzanne. And they did not find her, nor did she escape. Consequently, it must be admitted, Arsène Lupin had won the first hand. But the game was not yet decided. The most difficult point remained. Mlle. Gerbois is in his possession, and he will hold her until he receives five hundred thousand francs. But how and where will such an exchange be made? For that purpose, a meeting must be arranged, and then what will prevent Mon. Gerbois from warning the police and, in that way, effecting the rescue of his daughter and, at the same time, keeping his money? The professor was interviewed, but he was extremely reticent. His answer was:

“I have nothing to say.”

“And Mlle. Gerbois?”

“The search is being continued.”

“But Arsène Lupin has written to you?”

“No.”

“Do you swear to that?”

“No.”

“Then it is true. What are his instructions?”

“I have nothing to say.”

Then the interviewers attacked Mon. Detinan, and found him equally discreet.

“Monsieur Lupin is my client, and I cannot discuss his affairs,” he replied, with an affected air of gravity.

These mysteries served to irritate the gallery. Obviously, some secret negotiations were in progress. Arsène Lupin had arranged and tightened the meshes of his net, while the police maintained a close watch, day and night, over Mon. Gerbois. And the three and only possible dénouements—the arrest, the triumph, or the ridiculous and pitiful abortion—were freely discussed; but the curiosity of the public was only partially satisfied, and it was reserved for these pages to reveal the exact truth of the affair.

On Monday, March 12th, Mon. Gerbois received a notice from the Crédit Foncier. On Wednesday, he took the one o’clock train for Paris. At two o’clock, a thousand bank-notes of one thousand francs each were delivered to him. Whilst he was counting them, one by one, in a state of nervous agitation—that money, which represented Suzanne’s ransom—a carriage containing two men stopped at the curb a short distance from the bank. One of the men had grey hair and an unusually shrewd expression which formed a striking contrast to his shabby make-up. It was Detective Ganimard, the relentless enemy of Arsène Lupin. Ganimard said to his companion, Folenfant:

“In five minutes, we will see our clever friend Lupin. Is everything ready?”

“Yes.”

“How many men have we?”

“Eight—two of them on bicycles.”

“Enough, but not too many. On no account, must Gerbois escape us; if he does, it is all up. He will meet Lupin at the appointed place, give half a million in exchange for the girl, and the game will be over.”

“But why doesn’t Gerbois work with us? That would be the better way, and he could keep all the money himself.”

“Yes, but he is afraid that if he deceives the other, he will not get his daughter.”

“What other?”

“Lupin.”

Ganimard pronounced the word in a solemn tone, somewhat timidly, as if he were speaking of some supernatural creature whose claws he already felt.

“It is very strange,” remarked Folenfant, judiciously, “that we are obliged to protect this gentleman contrary to his own wishes.”

“Yes, but Lupin always turns the world upside down,” said Ganimard, mournfully.

A moment later, Mon. Gerbois appeared, and started up the street. At the end of the rue des Capucines, he turned into the boulevards, walking slowly, and stopping frequently to gaze at the shop-windows.

“Much too calm, too self-possessed,” said Ganimard. “A man with a million in his pocket would not have that air of tranquillity.”

“What is he doing?”

“Oh! Nothing, evidently … But I have a suspicion that it is Lupin—yes, Lupin!”

At that moment, Mon. Gerbois stopped at a news-stand, purchased a paper, unfolded it and commenced to read it as he walked slowly away. A moment later, he gave a sudden bound into an automobile that was standing at the curb. Apparently, the machine had been waiting for him, as it started away rapidly, turned at the Madeleine and disappeared.

“Nom de nom!” cried Ganimard, “that’s one of his old tricks!”

Ganimard hastened after the automobile around the Madeleine. Then, he burst into laughter. At the entrance to the boulevard Malesherbes, the automobile had stopped and Mon. Gerbois had alighted.

“Quick, Folenfant, the chauffeur! It may be the man Ernest.”

Folenfant interviewed the chauffeur. His name was Gaston; he was an employee of the automobile cab company; ten minutes ago, a gentleman had engaged him and told him to wait near the news-stand for another gentleman.

“And the second man—what address did he give?” asked Folenfant.

“No address. ‘Boulevard Malesherbes … avenue de Messine … double pourboire.’ That is all.”

But, during this time, Mon. Gerbois had leaped into the first passing carriage.

“To the Concorde station, Metropolitan,” he said to the driver.

He left the underground at the Place du Palais-Royal, ran to another carriage and ordered it to go to the Place de la Bourse. Then a second journey by the underground to the avenue de Villiers, followed by a third carriage drive to number 25 rue Clapeyron.

Number 25 rue Clapeyron is separated from the boulevard des Batignolles by the house which occupies the angle formed by the two streets. He ascended to the first floor and rang. A gentleman opened the door.

“Does Monsieur Detinan live here?”

“Yes, that is my name. Are you Monsieur Gerbois?”

“Yes.”

“I was expecting you. Step in.”

As Mon. Gerbois entered the lawyer’s office, the clock struck three. He said:

“I am prompt to the minute. Is he here?”

“Not yet.”

Mon. Gerbois took a seat, wiped his forehead, looked at his watch as if he did not know the time, and enquired, anxiously:

“Will he come?”

“Well, monsieur,” replied the lawyer, “that I do not know, but I am quite as anxious and impatient as you are to find out. If he comes, he will run a great risk, as this house has been closely watched for the last two weeks. They distrust me.”

“They suspect me, too. I am not sure whether the detectives lost sight of me or not on my way here.”

“But you were—”

“It wouldn’t be my fault,” cried the professor, quickly. “You cannot reproach me. I promised to obey his orders, and I followed them to the very letter. I drew the money at the time fixed by him, and I came here in the manner directed by him. I have faithfully performed my part of the agreement—let him do his!”

After a short silence, he asked, anxiously:

“He will bring my daughter, won’t he?”

“I expect so.”

“But … you have seen him?”

“I? No, not yet. He made the appointment by letter, saying both of you would be here, and asking me to dismiss my servants before three o’clock and admit no one while you were here. If I would not consent to that arrangement, I was to notify him by a few words in the
Echo de France
. But I am only too happy to oblige Mon. Lupin, and so I consented.”

“Ah! How will this end?” moaned Mon. Gerbois.

He took the bank-notes from his pocket, placed them on the table and divided them into two equal parts. Then the two men sat there in silence. From time to time, Mon. Gerbois would listen. Did someone ring? … His nervousness increased every minute, and Monsieur Detinan also displayed considerable anxiety. At last, the lawyer lost his patience. He rose abruptly, and said:

“He will not come … We shouldn’t expect it. It would be folly on his part. He would run too great a risk.”

And Mon. Gerbois, despondent, his hands resting on the bank-notes, stammered:

“Oh! Mon Dieu! I hope he will come. I would give the whole of that money to see my daughter again.”

The door opened.

“Half of it will be sufficient, Monsieur Gerbois.”

These words were spoken by a well-dressed young man who now entered the room and was immediately recognized by Mon. Gerbois as the person who had wished to buy the desk from him at Versailles. He rushed toward him.

“Where is my daughter—my Suzanne?”

Arsène Lupin carefully closed the door, and, while slowly removing his gloves, said to the lawyer:

“My dear maître, I am indebted to you very much for your kindness in consenting to defend my interests. I shall not forget it.”

Mon. Detinan murmured:

“But you did not ring. I did not hear the door—”

“Doors and bells are things that should work without being heard. I am here, and that is the important point.”

“My daughter! Suzanne! Where is she?” repeated the professor.

“Mon Dieu, monsieur,” said Lupin, “what’s your hurry? Your daughter will be here in a moment.”

Lupin walked to and fro for a minute, then, with the pompous air of an orator, he said:

“Monsieur Gerbois, I congratulate you on the clever way in which you made the journey to this place.”

Then, perceiving the two piles of bank-notes, he exclaimed:

“Ah! I see! The million is here. We will not lose any time. Permit me.”

“One moment,” said the lawyer, placing himself before the table. “Mlle. Gerbois has not yet arrived.”

“Well?”

“Is not her presence indispensable?”

“I understand! I understand! Arsène Lupin inspires only a limited confidence. He might pocket the half-million and not restore the hostage. Ah! Monsieur, people do not understand me. Because I have been obliged, by force of circumstances, to commit certain actions a little … out of the ordinary, my good faith is impugned … I, who have always observed the utmost scrupulosity and delicacy in business affairs. Besides, my dear monsieur if you have any fear, open the window and call. There are at least a dozen detectives in the street.”

“Do you think so?”

Arsène Lupin raised the curtain.

“I think that Monsieur Gerbois could not throw Ganimard off the scent … What did I tell you? There he is now.”

“Is it possible!” exclaimed the professor. “But I swear to you—”

“That you have not betrayed me? … I do not doubt you, but those fellows are clever—sometimes. Ah! I can see Folenfant, and Greaume, and Dieuzy—all good friends of mine!”

Mon. Detinan looked at Lupin in amazement. What assurance! He laughed as merrily as if engaged in some childish sport, as if no danger threatened him. This unconcern reassured the lawyer more than the presence of the detectives. He left the table on which the bank-notes were lying. Arsène Lupin picked up one pile of bills after the other, took from each of them twenty-five bank-notes which he offered to Mon. Detinan, saying:

“The reward of your services to Monsieur Gerbois and Arsène Lupin. You well deserve it.”

“You owe me nothing,” replied the lawyer.

“What? After all the trouble we have caused you?”

“And all the pleasure you have given me?”

“That means, my dear monsieur, that you do not wish to accept anything from Arsène Lupin. See what it is to have a bad reputation.”

He then offered the fifty thousand francs to Mon. Gerbois, saying: