The Confessions of Arsène Lupin (9 page)

“There’s some one coming! … A motor-cycle! …”

A motor was throbbing on the other side of the wall. A man on a motor-bicycle came tearing down the lane at the risk of breaking his neck. Suddenly, he put on his brakes, outside the door, and sprang from his machine.

Under the layer of dust which covered him from head to foot, we could see that his navy-blue reefer-suit, his carefully creased trousers, his black felt hat and patent-leather boots were not the clothes in which a man usually goes cycling.

“But that’s not Captain Jeanniot!” shouted the notary, who failed to recognize him.

“Yes, it is,” said Lupin, shaking hands with us. “I’m Captain Jeanniot right enough … only I’ve shaved off my moustache … Besides, Maître Valandier, here’s your receipt.”

He caught one of the workman’s children by the arm and said:

“Run to the cab-rank and fetch a taxi to the corner of the Rue Raynouard. Look sharp! I have an urgent appointment to keep at two o’clock, or a quarter-past at the latest.”

There was a murmur of protest. Captain Jeanniot took out his watch:

“Well! It’s only twelve minutes to two! I have a good quarter of an hour before me. But, by Jingo, how tired I feel! And how hungry into the bargain!”

The corporal thrust his ammunition-bread into Lupin’s hand; and he munched away at it as he sat down and said:

“You must forgive me. I was in the Marseilles express, which left the rails between Dijon and Laroche. There were twelve people killed and any number injured, whom I had to help. Then I found this motor-cycle in the luggage-van … Maître Valandier, you must be good enough to restore it to the owner. You will find the label fastened to the handle-bar. Ah, you’re back, my boy! Is the taxi there? At the corner of the Rue Raynouard? Capital!”

He looked at his watch again:

“Hullo! No time to lose!”

I stared at him with eager curiosity. But how great must the excitement of the >d’Ernemont heirs have been! True, they had not the same faith in Captain Jeanniot that I had in Lupin. Nevertheless, their faces were pale and drawn. Captain Jeanniot turned slowly to the left and walked up to the sun-dial. The pedestal represented the figure of a man with a powerful torso, who bore on his shoulders a marble slab the surface of which had been so much worn by time that we could hardly distinguish the engraved lines that marked the hours. Above the slab, a Cupid, with outspread wings, held an arrow that served as a gnomon.

The captain stood leaning forward for a minute, with attentive eyes.

Then he said:

“Somebody lend me a knife, please.”

A clock in the neighbourhood struck two. At that exact moment, the shadow of the arrow was thrown upon the sunlit dial along the line of a crack in the marble which divided the slab very nearly in half.

The captain took the knife handed to him. And with the point, very gently, he began to scratch the mixture of earth and moss that filled the narrow cleft.

Almost immediately, at a couple of inches from the edge, he stopped, as though his knife had encountered an obstacle, inserted his thumb and forefinger and withdrew a small object which he rubbed between the palms of his hands and gave to the lawyer:

“Here, Maître Valandier. Something to go on with.”

It was an enormous diamond, the size of a hazelnut and beautifully cut.

The captain resumed his work. The next moment, a fresh stop. A second diamond, magnificent and brilliant as the first, appeared in sight.

And then came a third and a fourth.

In a minute’s time, following the crack from one edge to the other and certainly without digging deeper than half an inch, the captain had taken out eighteen diamonds of the same size.

During this minute, there was not a cry, not a movement around the sun-dial. The heirs seemed paralyzed with a sort of stupor. Then the fat gentleman muttered:

“Geminy!”

And the corporal moaned:

“Oh, captain! … Oh, captain! …”

The two sisters fell in a dead faint. The lady with the little dog dropped on her knees and prayed, while the footman, staggering like a drunken man, held his head in his two hands, and Louise d’Ernemont wept.

When calm was restored and all became eager to thank Captain Jeanniot, they saw that he was gone.

Some years passed before I had an opportunity of talking to Lupin about this business. He was in a confidential vein and answered:

“The business of the eighteen diamonds? By Jove, when I think that three or four generations of my fellow-men had been hunting for the solution! And the eighteen diamonds were there all the time, under a little mud and dust!”

“But how did you guess? …”

“I did not guess. I reflected. I doubt if I need even have reflected. I was struck, from the beginning, by the fact that the whole circumstance was governed by one primary question: the question of time. When Charles d’Ernemont was still in possession of his wits, he wrote a date upon the three pictures. Later, in the gloom in which he was struggling, a faint glimmer of intelligence led him every year to the centre of the old garden; and the same faint glimmer led him away from it every year at the same moment, that is to say, at twenty-seven minutes past five. Something must have acted on the disordered machinery of his brain in this way. What was the superior force that controlled the poor madman’s movements? Obviously, the instinctive notion of time represented by the sun-dial in the farmer-general’s pictures. It was the annual revolution of the earth around the sun that brought Charles d’Ernemont back to the garden at a fixed date. And it was the earth’s daily revolution upon its own axis that took him from it at a fixed hour, that is to say, at the hour, most likely, when the sun, concealed by objects different from those of to-day, ceased to light the Passy garden. Now of all this the sun-dial was the symbol. And that is why I at once knew where to look.”

“But how did you settle the hour at which to begin looking?”

“Simply by the pictures. A man living at that time, such as Charles d’Ernemont, would have written either 26 Germinal, Year II, or else 15 April, 1794, but not 15 April, Year II. I was astounded that no one had thought of that.”

“Then the figure 2 stood for two o’clock?”

“Evidently. And what must have happened was this: the farmer-general began by turning his fortune into solid gold and silver money. Then, by way of additional precaution, with this gold and silver he bought eighteen wonderful diamonds. When he was surprised by the arrival of the patrol, he fled into his garden. Which was the best place to hide the diamonds? Chance caused his eyes to light upon the sun-dial. It was two o’clock. The shadow of the arrow was then falling along the crack in the marble. He obeyed this sign of the shadow, rammed his eighteen diamonds into the dust and calmly went back and surrendered to the soldiers.”

“But the shadow of the arrow coincides with the crack in the marble every day of the year and not only on the 15th of April.”

“You forget, my dear chap, that we are dealing with a lunatic and that he remembered only this date of the 15th of April.”

“Very well; but you, once you had solved the riddle, could easily have made your way into the enclosure and taken the diamonds.”

“Quite true; and I should not have hesitated, if I had had to do with people of another description. But I really felt sorry for those poor wretches. And then you know the sort of idiot that Lupin is. The idea of appearing suddenly as a benevolent genius and amazing his kind would be enough to make him commit any sort of folly.”

“Tah!” I cried. “The folly was not so great as all that. Six magnificent diamonds! How delighted the d’Ernemont heirs must have been to fulfil their part of the contract!”

Lupin looked at me and burst into uncontrollable laughter:

“So you haven’t heard? Oh, what a joke! The delight of the d’Ernemont heirs! … Why, my dear fellow, on the next day, that worthy Captain Jeanniot had so many mortal enemies! On the very next day, the two lean sisters and the fat gentleman organized an opposition. A contract? Not worth the paper it was written on, because, as could easily be proved, there was no such person as Captain Jeanniot. Where did that adventurer spring from? Just let him sue them and they’d soon show him what was what!”

“Louise d’Ernemont too?”

“No, Louise d’Ernemont protested against that piece of rascality. But what could she do against so many? Besides, now that she was rich, she got back her young man. I haven’t heard of her since.”

“So …?”

“So, my dear fellow, I was caught in a trap, with not a leg to stand on, and I had to compromise and accept one modest diamond as my share, the smallest and the least handsome of the lot. That comes of doing one’s best to help people!”

And Lupin grumbled between his teeth:

“Oh, gratitude! … All humbug! … Where should we honest men be if we had not our conscience and the satisfaction of duty performed to reward us?”

IV. THE INFERNAL TRAP

When the race was over, a crowd of people, streaming toward the exit from the grand stand, pushed against Nicolas Dugrival. He brought his hand smartly to the inside pocket of his jacket.

“What’s the matter?” asked his wife.

“I still feel nervous … with that money on me! I’m afraid of some nasty accident.”

She muttered:

“And I can’t understand you. How can you think of carrying such a sum about with you? Every farthing we possess! Lord knows, it cost us trouble enough to earn!”

“Pooh!” he said. “No one would guess that it is here, in my pocket-book.”

“Yes, yes,” she grumbled. “That young man-servant whom we discharged last week knew all about it, didn’t he, Gabriel?”

“Yes, aunt,” said a youth standing beside her.

Nicolas Dugrival, his wife and his nephew Gabriel were well-known figures at the race-meetings, where the regular frequenters saw them almost every day: Dugrival, a big, fat, red-faced man, who looked as if he knew how to enjoy life; his wife, also built on heavy lines, with a coarse, vulgar face, and always dressed in a plum-coloured silk much the worse for wear; the nephew, quite young, slender, with pale features, dark eyes and fair and rather curly hair.

As a rule, the couple remained seated throughout the afternoon. It was Gabriel who betted for his uncle, watching the horses in the paddock, picking up tips to right and left among the jockeys and stable-lads, running backward and forward between the stands and the
pari-mutuel
.

Luck had favoured them that day, for, three times, Dugrival’s neighbours saw the young man come back and hand him money.

The fifth race was just finishing. Dugrival lit a cigar. At that moment, a gentleman in a tight-fitting brown suit, with a face ending in a peaked gray beard, came up to him and asked, in a confidential whisper:

“Does this happen to belong to you, sir?”

And he displayed a gold watch and chain.

Dugrival gave a start:

“Why, yes … it’s mine … Look, here are my initials, N. G.: Nicolas Dugrival!”

And he at once, with a movement of terror, clapped his hand to his jacket-pocket.

The note-case was still there.

“Ah,” he said, greatly relieved, “that’s a piece of luck! … But, all the same, how on earth was it done? … Do you know the scoundrel?”

“Yes, we’ve got him locked up. Pray come with me and we’ll soon look into the matter.”

“Whom have I the honour …?”

“M. Delangle, detective-inspector. I have sent to let M. Marquenne, the magistrate, know.”

Nicolas Dugrival went out with the inspector; and the two of them started for the commissary’s office, some distance behind the grand stand. They were within fifty yards of it, when the inspector was accosted by a man who said to him, hurriedly:

“The fellow with the watch has blabbed; we are on the tracks of a whole gang. M. Marquenne wants you to wait for him at the
pari-mutuel
and to keep a look-out near the fourth booth.”

There was a crowd outside the betting-booths and Inspector Delangle muttered:

“It’s an absurd arrangement … Whom am I to look out for? … That’s just like M. Marquenne! …”

He pushed aside a group of people who were crowding too close upon him:

“By Jove, one has to use one’s elbows here and keep a tight hold on one’s purse. That’s the way you got your watch pinched, M. Dugrival!”

“I can’t understand …”

“Oh, if you knew how those gentry go to work! One never guesses what they’re up to next. One of them treads on your foot, another gives you a poke in the eye with his stick and the third picks your pocket before you know where you are … I’ve been had that way myself.” He stopped and then continued, angrily. “But, bother it, what’s the use of hanging about here! What a mob! It’s unbearable! … Ah, there’s M. Marquenne making signs to us! … One moment, please … and be sure and wait for me here.”

He shouldered his way through the crowd. Nicolas Dugrival followed him for a moment with his eyes. Once the inspector was out of sight, he stood a little to one side, to avoid being hustled.

A few minutes passed. The sixth race was about to start, when Dugrival saw his wife and nephew looking for him. He explained to them that Inspector Delangle was arranging matters with the magistrate.

“Have you your money still?” asked his wife.

“Why, of course I have!” he replied. “The inspector and I took good care, I assure you, not to let the crowd jostle us.”

He felt his jacket, gave a stifled cry, thrust his hand into his pocket and began to stammer inarticulate syllables, while Mme. Dugrival gasped, in dismay:

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

“Stolen!” he moaned. “The pocket-book … the fifty notes! …”

“It’s not true!” she screamed. “It’s not true!”

“Yes, the inspector … a common sharper … he’s the man …”

She uttered absolute yells:

“Thief! Thief! Stop thief! … My husband’s been robbed! … Fifty thousand francs! … \We are ruined! … Thief! Thief …”

In a moment they were surrounded by policemen and taken to the commissary’s office. Dugrival went like a lamb, absolutely bewildered. His wife continued to shriek at the top of her voice, piling up explanations, railing against the inspector: