Sherlock Holmes and the Boulevard Assassin (12 page)

Dubuque had been regarding me with a strange look on his face whilst I reproached myself thus. Now he asked me, ‘Do I understand that you have met Monsieur Huret’s niece?’

‘I did. And, as I say, she spent some considerable time questioning me. And I have no doubt but that she ran straight back to her uncle to tell him the answers. Well,’ said I, making to stand up, ‘we must go round there at once, of course, and confront this Huret!’

Dubuque laid a restraining hand upon my arm. ‘I beg that you will sit down, and listen to me for a moment,’ he said very quietly.

Impressed by his calm demeanour, I sat down. ‘Well?’ I demanded.

‘As an Englishman you can scarcely be expected to know this,’ said Dubuque seriously, ‘but Monsieur Huret is, I assure you, entirely above suspicion.’

‘But – ’

‘No! No buts! Listen! Monsieur Huret has no title, true, but he is an aristocrat of the old school, nevertheless – one of the oldest families in France. Well known – yes! – I told you that I recognized his crest at a glance, and so would half of Paris, I assure you! Rich – of course! But there is more to it than all of that. He was a personal friend of the President, you understand? He is not himself a Deputy, but he wields great political influence – why, rumour has it that the President consulted Huret over the appointment of several ministers. You see now the sort of man he is? You see how silly are your suspicions of him?’

‘And for all that,’ I said, ‘he wrote a note to Constantine!’

Dubuque gave a great shrug of his shoulders. ‘And what of that? A man like Huret, he writes a dozen notes each day! Two dozen! Why, the main part of the note itself is missing – it may have been an invitation, a reply to an invitation – such a man, he gets requests, you understand, petitions, people asking for help – it may have been something of that sort!’

‘It may not.’

Dubuque looked round – in his own apartment, mark you! – and lowered his voice before he continued. ‘What would you do, then?’

‘Well, I would go to his house, and ask if he knows this Constantine. With tact and delicacy, of course – that is understood. But he may be able to help. After all, if he is an honest man, if he has nothing to hide, he would wish to help the police.’

Dubuque shook his head. ‘I dare not! And I beg that you yourself will not dream of such a thing! I do not know how matters stand in England, of course; but imagine that my old friend Lestrade had found a clue which implicated – oh, I do not know – the Duke of Balmoral, let us say.’

‘I am by no means sure that there
is
a Duke of Balmoral, you know,’ said I doubtfully.

‘
Mon
Dieu
! It is an example only, you understand! This clue, it is an important clue in an important case, and it implicates a relative of Queen Victoria – tell me, Doctor, would Lestrade go at once to Buckingham Palace and knock upon the door, demanding to be let in to interrogate the Duke?’

‘H’mm. I take your point. And this Huret, do you really tell me that he is so important?’

‘As I have told you. Now, I would wish to do what I can, of course, for Monsieur Holmes – but one must think of one’s career; one’s pension. And besides, it is out of the question that Monsieur Huret should be involved in any criminal activity. You may rely upon that.’ Dubuque sat back, then said, ‘But I am forgetting! We have not yet studied the real clue of this piece of paper!’

‘And what may that be, pray?’

‘Why, the laundry list!’

‘Oh, really, Dubuque! What can – ’

‘I beg that you will read it carefully,’ he told me, passing the paper back to me.

‘Oh, very well, then!’ I read aloud, ‘“Five silk shirts, eleven collars, one pair silk drawers, two pairs silk socks – ” Dubuque, I know you mean well, but what on earth – ’

‘It is a curious list, though, is it not?’

‘Well, it certainly reveals a love of ostentatious display at the expense of personal hygiene. But – ’

‘Read on, if you please.’

‘“ – sixteen pairs linen sheets, single; six pairs ditto, double; fifteen pairs cotton sheets, single – ” Good Lord!’

‘Continue!’ said Dubuque, a smile on his face.

‘“ – nineteen blankets, single; six ditto, double; twenty-six cotton towels, hand, quality; fifteen ditto, ordinary; twenty-four, quality, bath.”’ I sat and stared blankly at the thing.

‘It is odd, that, is it not?’ asked Dubuque with a smile.

‘Odd? I should think it is! Dubuque, what on earth can this mean?’

ELEVEN

Dubuque shrugged his shoulders. ‘As to that, I cannot say. But it is very strange.’

‘I cannot disagree with you there.’

Dubuque stood up. ‘I must leave you now,’ said he. ‘We are very busy, you understand, since the assassination of the President. We must have extra men whenever a politician appears in public, and so forth.’

‘And Holmes?’ I asked with some desperation.

‘If we had something to go on – ’ and Dubuque ended the sentiment with another shrug. ‘But I cannot remain here just talking about it, you understand! I would like to help Monsieur Holmes by all means, but we do not even know where he is – not even a hint, a guess, as to where he may be!’

‘If only I could find this Constantine!’

‘We have tried.’ Dubuque looked for his hat and coat. ‘Do you propose to remain here today, to rest perhaps? It might be as well, and I shall return as soon as I can. Why, you might even puzzle out the meaning of the laundry list!’

‘I think I may take a walk outside,’ said I. ‘It looks a glorious day, and I could use some fresh air and gentle exercise.’

‘Well, here is a spare key,’ said Dubuque, handing it over as he spoke. ‘Treat my apartment as if it were your own.’ He stared hard at me. ‘But you were not perhaps thinking of anything foolish, were you? You did not intend to go to Monsieur Huret’s house, for example?’

‘Good Lord, no!’ said I mendaciously. ‘Such a thought never occurred to me!’

‘Because I have already told you that it would be most inadvisable to do so. You understand, if you did anything so fantastic, and Monsieur Huret called the police to protest, I could not protect you? There are questions already, as I have said, about this jewel robbery of yesterday – fortunately you yourself were not seen anywhere in the vicinity! But, if Monsieur Huret makes a complaint – you comprehend? I would try,
bien
entendu
, but the most I could ask would be that you should be allowed to serve your sentence here, in France herself, and not be sent to Devil’s Island! So, be careful!’ And with that, the honest Dubuque let himself out.

I sat and thought for a time. Despite my own disclaimer, and Dubuque’s warning, I fully intended to go to Huret’s mansion and ask to see him. That much I had decided. But what then? I could hardly accuse Huret point blank of being a criminal mastermind, of plotting to overthrow the government of France! No, perhaps not that exactly – after all, Dubuque might be right, my suspicions might be unfounded. But on the other hand I could ask, civilly enough, if Huret knew a Monsieur Constantine, could I not? Well, whether I could or could not, that was what I proposed to do. If this Huret knew every minister and half the Deputies – nay, if his grandfather had been First Consul and his father President! – I should confront the fellow and ask him what the devil he had done with Holmes. I loaded my revolver – I would not be found wanting there again, at any rate! Then I rummaged in a cupboard and found one of Dubuque’s hats to replace my own unserviceable headgear, then I set out for the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne.

For all my resolution, when I arrived outside the imposing house where I had encountered Mademoiselle Huret, I stood there hesitant. All the objections which Dubuque had raised – and many which he had not – struck me with their full force. What if I were wrong, after all? The circumstance is not one which has been entirely unknown in the course of my eventful life. What if Mademoiselle Huret had bumped into me quite by chance, what if her questions had been merely the natural consequence of an innocent young girl’s impulsiveness? What if the whole business of the note were a monstrous coincidence?

As I stood there hesitating, a
gendarme
strolled past. He slowed as he passed me, and looked me up and down with a rather insolent stare. I might have been offended, but I realized that Dubuque’s hat was about the only item of my attire that was halfway respectable, for I had not changed my other clothes. To disarm any natural suspicion the policeman might have had, I asked him, ‘Is this the house of Monsieur Huret, if you please?’

‘Why, yes,’ said he, sounding surprised.

‘Thank you.’ I made as if to enter the gates, but slowed down and looked back as I reached them. The
gendarme
was still looking suspiciously after me. If he had moved along, I should perhaps have turned back and continued down the road myself, but as it was, with that cold stare at my back, I felt obliged to go up to the huge door and ring the bell.

It was opened by an elderly and very proper butler, who looked at me much as the
gendarme
had done. I half expected to be told that the tradesmen’s entrance was round the back, but he merely asked, ‘Yes?’

‘Is Monsieur Huret at home?’

‘I regret he is not.’

‘Mademoiselle Huret, then?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘No-one is at home, Monsieur.’ The door started to close.

‘Monsieur Constantine?’

‘I know no-one of that name, I regret.’ The door continued its progress towards me.

‘One moment, if you please!’ I cried. ‘I have an important message for Monsieur Huret – you could not tell me where he might be at the moment?’

‘I regret I cannot.’ He practically sneered at me, ‘Monsieur Huret does not always feel obliged to confide in me, you understand!’ The door closed firmly in my face.

I stood on the step for a long moment, wondering whether I ought not to have produced my revolver and demanded admittance. Perhaps so. But it was too late for that now. And, in any case, Huret may have known nothing of Constantine – his butler had denied knowing the name. Disconsolate, at a complete loss as to what to do next, I trudged wearily down the drive and into the street. I might just as well return to Dubuque’s apartment and rest, thought I, and looked around for a cab.

A tall man brushed past me, and I mumbled an apology. He half turned, bowed, and then – quite unexpectedly – asked, ‘Doctor Watson, is it not?’

I was astounded! I tried to stammer out a denial, but before I could utter more than two words my arms were seized by a couple of men who had evidently come up behind me. A callused hand was clamped over my mouth, and I was lifted bodily into a cab, which set off at a cracking pace.

The tall man – whom I now recognized as the man I had bumped into outside the Huret mansion two days before – searched me, whilst the others held me down. He soon found my revolver, and then ordered the others to release me. I sat up, and looked down the barrel of my own pistol.

‘Now, Doctor Watson. I think it is time we had a little talk!’

‘It is indeed, Jupin,’ said I, as calmly as I could manage, for I had now recovered my wits sufficiently to recognize the aristocratic profile and the waxed moustache as belonging to France’s most famous thief. In my own defence I should mention that I had only seen him once or twice, and then but briefly, before then, although I had seen his photograph a couple of times. And he was, besides, almost as great a master of disguise as Holmes himself.

Jupin bowed as well as was possible inside the cab. ‘Now the formalities are over, perhaps you would oblige me by telling me what the devil is happening?’

‘Damned if I know!’ I told him frankly. ‘I was hoping you might tell me!’

Jupin looked at me for a long time. ‘I think you are telling the truth,’ said he at length. ‘Very well, we shall pool our knowledge. I have had you followed, of course, ever since you came to France – ’

‘What!’

Jupin shrugged. ‘The customs examination, you understand? Such a great quantity of tobacco could not fail to attract the attention of my man at the station!’

‘Holmes and his infernal smoking! Well, you followed us – what then?’

‘I tell you plainly, Doctor, that I was puzzled. First, I think you are here to track down me, Arsène Jupin! That is only natural – I am, after all, the most famous thief in all France! But then you went to an anarchist meeting, and the police raided the place. Ah, I thought, Mr Holmes and the good doctor, they have come to Paris to smash the anarchist ring! But then you disappeared. Very well, they have returned to England, I think. But then I stroll to the Bois, with a lady – and who do I see but Doctor Watson, also with a lady? Ahah, I say – this is the Doctor Watson I know! But wait! I wonder – the excellent Doctor Watson, he is known as a man about town, a dandy, one would say, his costume is always of the neatest – so why then is he dressed like the character in his famous story of “The Pox-doctor’s Clerk”?’

‘It was “The Stock-broker’s Clerk”, in point of fact, Jupin.’

‘It is all the same!’

‘And I thought my apparel quite smart,’ I added.

‘I say to myself – “There is something strange in all this!” I would follow again, but I have business, you comprehend? Now, my business is just this – I have my eye on a certain jeweller’s shop, in the Place Vendôme. My man, who watches the place, tells me that two of the biggest rogues in all Paris are there – and dressed as
gendarmes
! Ohoh, I tell myself – this is droll, is it not? I take one of my best men, and he and I, we dress as
gendarmes
too! To see the fun, you comprehend? But then, I see Monsieur Holmes enter the shop, and steal the diamonds! And the rogues, they pursue! But this is a novelty! Very well, Arsène Jupin also likes his little joke! I arrest Holmes, and I take the diamonds!’ And he patted his pocket complacently.

‘You villain! You struck Holmes!’

‘What of it? Monsieur Holmes; and you, Doctor; and I – we are not academics, we are not intellectuals – a little tap on the head, it does us no harm! But still I am puzzled. I change my uniform for more elegant apparel, I hide in a doorway, I follow once again. I see Monsieur Holmes dragged from that unsavoury
bistro
. But where is Doctor Watson? I search, I find you in the alley – I tell you,
mon
ami
, I was anxious! But you too have the thick skull, and I see you are unhurt. You may say I was wrong to leave you there, but I am concerned as to what will happen next. So I send a note to Monsieur Dubuque, and again I watch and follow! And then you call at the house of Monsieur Huret, one of the richest, most famous men in Paris. By now, my curiosity is too great for me to wait further, so I invite you for a little chat!’

‘As to the latest affair,’ said I, ‘it is simple enough. I was looking for Holmes, and I thought this Huret may know where he is.’

‘But Monsieur Holmes is hardly to be found at the house of Monsieur Huret!’

‘So Dubuque said.’ I looked at Jupin, aware of an odd look on his face. ‘Jupin, do you know where Holmes is at this moment?’

‘But of course! He is in the Avenue Kléber, kept prisoner at the house of Monsieur Duclos!

‘What!’ My head – not for the first time – swam. ‘Duclos, you say?’

‘In the Avenue Kléber. We can go there, if you wish.’ And he called an instruction to the cabbie.

‘Duclos?’ said I again. ‘Are you sure, Jupin? Not “Constantine”?’

‘Well,’ said Jupin with a shrug, ‘he is Monsieur Constantine Duclos, after all!’

‘Ah! Then we have him! Tell me, Jupin, what do you know of this Constantine Duclos?’

‘I know he is a rich man,
mon
vieux
! Also, he is one of the greatest villains in all Paris! But he is clever, you comprehend – he hides his villainy under a cloak of good works. And he is not a very nice man; not a likeable rogue, you understand – not like Arsène Jupin!’

‘Quite so. Would it perhaps surprise you to know that this fellow Duclos is the head – or the second in command, I should say – of a gang which plans to take control of France?’

Jupin thought this over. ‘No,’ he said at last, ‘frankly it would not surprise me! He is corrupt, ambitious – but that is a big plan, a high ambition, even for him! You say he is second in command only, though? Who, then, is the first?’

‘I believe it to be none other than this Huret fellow!’

Jupin shook his head, just as Dubuque had done. ‘I cannot agree with you there, old friend – Huret, he is above suspicion! I, Arsène Jupin, I tell you this! I would know, I say, if he were a rogue! What do you English say – “It takes one to know one”, is it not?’ He leaned forward and looked directly at me. ‘But this other affair – that is different! I have noticed that there is a gang at work – more than once they have interfered with my own plans, and that annoys me! But to take over France? That is worse! I am – they tell me – a villain! But, Doctor, I am a loyal Frenchman! If this Duclos fellow is planning a
coup
then I, Arsène Jupin, shall join forces with you – and Monsieur Holmes – to foil him! Thus we shall save France – and remove this other gang, these villains who would spoil the sport of Arsène Jupin! What say you to a truce?’

‘Gladly!’ I told him, holding out my hand.

Jupin shook my proffered hand, then slapped my revolver into it. ‘A token of good faith!’ said he. He nodded out of the window. ‘You may need your pistol,’ he added carelessly, ‘for this is the house of Monsieur Duclos!’

We got down from the cab, and I looked at the house with some interest. It was perhaps not so large nor so grand as that of Huret, but it was imposing enough. Under different circumstances, I might have hesitated; but if I had honest doubts as to Huret, I had none at all as to Constantine – or Duclos, as I now knew him to be – and I set off up the drive, Jupin following. I moved cautiously around the front of the house, and was delighted that I could recognize the side door and coach house as being those I had seen when Holmes and I were here earlier.