 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Hollow Needle, Further Adventures of Arsène Lupin by Maurice LeBlanc, translated by Alexandre Texiero de Matos CHAPTER V. ON THE TRACK Young Bochelet was stunned by the violence of the blow. As a matter of fact, although in publishing his article he had obeyed one of those irresistible impulses which make a man despise every consideration of prudence, he had never really believed in the possibility of an abduction. His precautions had been too thorough. The friends at Cherbourg not only had instructions to guard and protect Bochelet the elder, they were also to watch his comings and goings, never to let him walk out alone and not even to hand him a single letter without first opening it. No, there was no danger. Lupin, wishing to gain time, was trying to intimidate his adversary. The blow, therefore, was almost unexpected, and Isidore, because he was powerless to act, felt the pain of the shock during the whole of the remainder of the day. One idea alone supported him, that of leaving Paris, going down there, seeing for himself what had happened and resuming the offensive. He telegraphed to Cherbourg. He was at Saint-Lazare a little before nine. A few minutes after, he was steaming out of the station in the Normandy Express. It was not until an hour later, when he mechanically unfolded a newspaper which he had bought on the platform, that he became aware of the letter by which Lupin indirectly replied to his article of that morning. To the editor of the Grand Journal. Sir, I cannot pretend but that my modest personality, which would certainly have passed unnoticed in more heroic times, has acquired a certain prominence in the dull and feeble period in which we live. But there is a limit beyond which the morbid curiosity of the crowd cannot go without becoming indecently indiscreet. If the walls that surround our private lives be not respected, what is to safeguard the rights of the citizen? Will those who differ plead the higher interest of truth? An empty pretext insofar as I am concerned. Because the truth is known, and I raise no difficulty about making an official confession of the truth in writing. Yes, mademoiselle de Saint-Veron is alive. Yes, I love her. Yes, I have the mortification not to be loved by her. Yes, the results of the boy-boitre-laise inquiry are wonderful in their precision and accuracy. Yes, we agree on every point. There is no riddle left. There is no mystery. Well, then, what? Injured to the very depths of my soul, bleeding still from cruel wounds, I ask that my more intimate feelings and secret hopes may no longer be delivered to the malevolence of the public. I ask for peace, the peace which I need to conquer the affection of mademoiselle de Saint-Veron and to wipe out from her memory the thousand little injuries which she has had to suffer at the hands of her uncle and cousin. This has not been told, because of her position as a poor relation. Mademoiselle de Saint-Veron will forget this hateful past. All that she can desire were at the fairest jewel in the world, were at the most unattainable treasure I shall lay at her feet. She will be happy. She will love me. But if I am to succeed, once more I require peace. That is why I lay down my arms and hold up the olive-brunch to my enemies, while warning them, with every magnanimity on my part, that a refusal on theirs might bring down upon them the gravest consequences. One word more on the subject of Mr. Harlington. This name conceals the identity of an excellent fellow, who is secretary to Cooley, the American millionaire, and instructed by him to lay hands upon every object of ancient art in Europe which it is possible to discover. His evil star brought him into touch with my friend Etienne de Votrier, alias Arsène Lupin, alias myself. He learned in this way that a certain Monsieur de Gersfre was willing to part with four pictures by Rubens, ostensibly on the condition that they were replaced by copies, and that the bargain to which he was consenting remained unknown. My friend Votrier also undertook to persuade Monsieur de Gersfre to sell his chapel. The negotiations were conducted with entire good faith on the side of my friend Votrier, and with charming ingeniousness on the side of Mr. Harlington, until the day when the Rubensers and the carvings from the chapel were in a safe place, and Mr. Harlington in prison. There remains nothing therefore to be done but to release the unfortunate American, because he was content to play the modest part of a dupe. To brand the millionaire Cooley, because for fear of possible unpleasantness, he did not protest against his secretary's arrest, and to congratulate my friend Etienne de Votrier, because he is revenging the outraged morality of the public by keeping the hundred thousand francs, which he was paid on account by that singularly unattractive person, Cooley. Pray pardon the length of this letter, and permit me to be, sir, your obedient servant, Arsène Lupin. Isidore weighed the words of this communication as minutely perhaps as he had studied the document concerning the hollow needle. He went on the principle, the correctness of which was easily proved, that Lupin had never taken the trouble to send one of his amusing letters to the press without absolute necessity, without some motive which events were sure sooner or later to bring to light. What was the motive for this particular letter? For what hidden reason was Lupin confessing his love and the failure of that love? Was it there that Baudrillet had to seek, or in the explanations regarding Mr. Harlington, or further still between the lines, behind all those words whose apparent meaning had perhaps no other object than to suggest some wicked, perfidious, misleading little idea? For hours the young man confined to his compartment remained pensive and anxious. The letter filled him with mistrust, as though it had been written for his benefit, and were destined to lead him personally into error. For the first time, and because he found himself confronted not with a direct attack, but with an ambiguous, undefinable method of fighting, he underwent a distinct sensation of fear. And when the thought of his good old easygoing father kidnapped through his fault, he asked himself with a pang whether he was not mad to continue so unequal a contest. Was the result not certain? Had Lupin not won the game in advance? It was but a short moment of weakness, when he alighted from his compartment at six o'clock in the morning, refreshed by a few hours' sleep, he had recovered all his confidence. On the platform, Froberal, the dockyard clerk who had given hospitality to Monsieur Bautrillet, Sr., was waiting for him, accompanied by his daughter Charlotte, an imp of twelve or thirteen. Well? cried Isidore. The worthy man, beginning to moan and groan, he interrupted him, dragged him to a neighbouring tavern, ordered coffee, and began to put plain questions, without permitting the other the slightest digression. My father has not been carried off, has he? It was impossible. Impossible. Still he has disappeared. Since when? We don't know. What? No. Yesterday morning at six o'clock, as I had not seen him come down as usual, I opened his door. He was gone. But was he there on the day before, two days ago? Yes, on the day before yesterday he did not leave his room, he was a little tired, and Charlotte took his lunch up to him at twelve, and his dinner at seven in the evening. So it was between seven o'clock in the evening on the day before yesterday, and six o'clock on yesterday morning that he disappeared. Yes, during the night before last, only, only what? Well it's like this, you can't leave the arsenal at night. Do you mean that he has not left it? That's impossible. My friends and I have searched the whole naval harbour. Then he has left it. Impossible. Every outlet is guarded. Boatrelay reflected and then said, What next? Next I hurried to the commandant's and informed the officer in charge. Did he come to your house? Yes, and a gentleman from the public prosecutor's also. They searched all through the morning, and when I saw that they were making no progress and that there was no hope left, I telegraphed to you. Was the bed disarranged in his room? No. Nor the room disturbed in any way? No, I found his pipe in its usual place with his tobacco and the book which he was reading. There was even this little photograph of yourself in the middle of the book marking the page. Let me see it. Frobeval passed him the photograph. Boatrelay gave a start of surprise. He had recognised himself in the snapshot of standing with his two hands in his pockets from which rose trees and ruins. Frobeval added, It must be the last portrait of yourself which you sent him. Look on the back, you will see the date. Third of April, the name of the photographer, Ar de Val and the name of the town, Lyon, Lyon-sur-mer perhaps. Isidore turned the photograph over and read this little note in his own handwriting. Ar de Val, 3.4 Lyon. He was silent for a few minutes and resumed. My father hadn't shown you that snapshot yet? No, and that's just what astonished me when I saw it yesterday, for your father used so often to talk to us about you. There was a fresh pause greatly prolonged. Frobeval muttered, I have business at the workshop, we might as well go in. He was silent. Isidore had not taken his eyes from the photograph, was examining it from every point of view. At last the boy asked, Is there such a thing as an inn called the Lyon d'Or at a short league outside the town? Yes, about a league from here. On the route to Valogne, is it? Yes, on the route to Valogne. Well, I have every reason to believe that this inn was the headquarters of Lupin's friends. It was from there that they ended into communication with my father. What an idea! Your father spoke to nobody, he saw nobody. He saw nobody, but they made use of an intermediary. What proof have you? This photograph. But it's your photograph. It's my photograph, but it was not sent by me. I was not even aware of its existence. It was taken without my knowledge in the ruins of Ambrusy, doubtless by the examining magistrate's clerk, who as you know was an accomplice of Arsène Lupin's. And then? Then this photograph became the passport, the talisman by means of which they obtained my father's confidence. But who? Who was able to get into my house? I don't know, but my father fell into the trap. They told him, and he believed that I was in the neighbourhood, that I was asking to see him, and that I was giving him an appointment at the Golden Lion. But all this is nonsense! How can you assert? Very simply, they imitated my writing on the back of the photograph and specified the meeting place. Valogne road, three kilometres, four hundred, lion inn. My father came, and they seized him, that's all. Very well, muttered Frobeval, dumbfounded, very well. I admit it, things happened as you say, but that does not explain how he was able to leave during the night. He left in broad daylight, though he waited until dark to go to the meeting place. But confound it, he didn't leave his room the whole of the day before yesterday. There is one way of making sure. Run down to the dockyard, Frobeval, and look for one of the men who were on guard in the afternoon, and go. Only be quick if you wish to find me here. Are you going? Yes, I shall take the next train back. What? Why, you don't know, you're inquiry. My inquiry is finished. I know pretty well all that I wanted to know. I shall have left Sherborg in an hour. Frobeval rose to go. He looked at Boatrelay with an air of absolute bewilderment, hesitated a moment, and then took his cap. Are you coming, Charlotte? No, said Boatrelay. I shall want a few more particulars. Besides, I want to talk to her. I knew her when she was quite small. Frobeval went away. Boatrelay and the little girl remained alone in the tavern smoking-room. A few minutes passed, a waiter entered, cleared away some cups, and left the room again. The eyes of the young man in the child met, and Boatrelay placed his hand very gently on the little girl's hand. She looked at him for two or three seconds, distractedly, as though about to choke. Then, suddenly, hiding her head between her folded arms, she burst into sobs. He let her cry, and after a while said, It was you, wasn't it, who did all the mischief? Who acted as go-between? It was you who took him the photograph. You admit it, don't you? And when you said that my father was in his room two days ago, you knew that it was not true, did you not, because you yourself had helped him to leave it? She made no reply. He asked, Why did you do it? They offered you money, I suppose, and asked, He uncrossed Charlotte's arms and lifted up her head. He saw a poor little face, all streaked with tears, the attractive, disquieting, mobile face of one of those little girls who seemed marked out for temptation and weakness. Come, said Boatrelay, it's over. We'll say no more about it. I will not even ask you how it happened. Only you must tell me everything that can be of use to me. Did you catch anything, any remark made by those men? How did they carry him off? She replied at once, By motor-car, I heard them talking about it. And what road did they take? I don't know that. Didn't they say anything before you, something that might help us? No. Wait, though. There was one who said, We shall have no time to lose. The governor is to telephone to us at eight o'clock in the morning. Where, too? I can't say. I've forgotten. Try, try and remember. Like Chateau. Chateau-Pryon? Chateau Thierry? No, no. Chateau-Roux? Yes, that was it. Boatrelay did not wait for her to complete the sentence. Already he was on his feet, and without giving a thought to Frobeval, without even troubling about the child who stood gazing at him in stupefaction, he opened the door and ran to the station. Chateau-Roux, madame, a ticket for Chateau-Roux. Over ma and tour? No way. Shall I be there for lunch? Oh, no. For dinner? Bedtime? Oh, no. For that you would have to go over Paris. The Paris Express leaves at nine o'clock. You're too late. It was not too late. Boatrelay was just able to catch the train. Well, said Boatrelay, rubbing his hands, I have spent only two hours or so at Cherbourg, but they were well employed. He did not, for a moment, think of accusing Charlotte of lying. She did not obey impulses of sincerity, and Boatrelay had read in her a fright at eyes her shame for the harm which she had done, and her delight at repairing it in part. He had no doubt, therefore, that Chateau-Roux was the other town to which Lupin had referred, and where his confederates were to telephone to him. On his arrival in Paris, Boatrelay took every necessary precaution to avoid being followed. He felt that it was a serious moment. He was on the right road that was leading him to his father. One act of imprudence might ruin all. He went to the flat of one of his school-fellows, and came out an hour later, irrecognisable, rigged out as an Englishman of thirty, in a brown check-suit with knicker-bockers, woolen stockings, and a cap, a high-coloured complexion, and a red wig. He jumped on a bicycle laden with a complete painter's outfit, and rode off to the Gare de Austerlitz. He slept that night at Isoudin. The next morning, he mounted his machine at break of day. At seven o'clock, he walked into the Chateau-Roux post office and asked to be put on to Paris. As he had to wait, he entered into conversation with the clerk, and let that two days before, at the same hour, a man dressed for motoring had also asked for Paris. The proof was established. He waited no longer. By the afternoon, he had ascertained from undeniable evidence that a limousine car, following the tour-road, had passed through the village of Bousinsets, and the town of Chateau-Roux and had stopped beyond the town on the verge of the forest. A man driven by a man unknown had stopped beside the car and then gone off south through the valley of the Bousinsets. There was then another person seated beside the driver. As for the car, it had turned in the opposite direction and gone north towards Isoudin. Portroulay easily discovered the owner of the gig, who, however, had no information to supply. He had hired out his horse and trapped to a man who had brought them back himself next day. Later that same evening, Isoudin found that the motor car continued its road towards Orleans, that is to say, towards Paris. From all this, it resulted in the most absolute fashion that Monsieur Portroulay was somewhere in the neighbourhood. If not, how was it conceivable that people should travel nearly 300 miles across France in order to telephone from Chateau-Roux and next to return at an acute angle by the Paris road? This immense circuit had a more definite object to move Monsieur Portroulay to the place assigned to him by my hand, said Isoudin himself, quivering with hope and expectation. My father is waiting for me to rescue him at ten or fifteen leagues from here. He is close by. He is breathing the same air as I. He set to work at once. Taking a war-office map, he divided it into small squares which he visited one after the other, entering the farmhouses, making the peasants talk, calling on the schoolmasters, the mares, the parish priests, chatting to the women. And his dreams grew until it was no longer his father alone whom he hoped to deliver, but all those whom Lupin was holding captive. Raymond de Saint-Véran, Guénemar, Homeloc-Chiers perhaps, and others, many others. And in reaching them, he would at the same time reach Lupin's stronghold, his lair, the impenetrable retreat where he was piling up the treasures of which he had robbed the wide world. But after a fortnight's useless searching, his enthusiasm ended by slackening, and he very soon lost confidence. Because success was slow and appearing from one day to the next, almost he ceased to believe in it, and though he continued to pursue his plan of investigations, he would have felt it a real surprise if his efforts had led to the smallest discovery. Maudet still passed by, monotonous days of discouragement. He read in the newspapers that the Comte de Gésir and his daughter had left Ambrusy and Gontustinien-Nis. He also learned that Harlington had been released, in accordance with the indications supplied by Arsène Lupin. Isidore changed his headquarters, established himself for two days at the Châtres, for two days at Argenton. The result was the same. Just then he was nearly throwing up the game. Evidently, the gig in which his father had been carried off could only have furnished a stage which had been followed by another stage, furnished by some other conveyance, and his father was far away. He was thinking of leaving in the morning. He saw on the envelope of an unstamped letter sent to him from Paris a handwriting that sent him trembling with emotion. So great was his excitement that for some minutes he dared not open the letter for fear of a disappointment. His hand shook. Was it possible? Was this not a trap laid for him by his infernal enemy? He tore open the envelope. It was indeed a letter from his father, written by his father himself. He then presented all the peculiarities, all the oddities of the hand which he knew so well. He read, Will these lines ever reach you, my dear son? I dare not believe it. During the whole night of my abduction we travelled by motor-car. Then in the morning by carriage I could see nothing. My eyes were bandaged. The castle in which I am confined should be somewhere in the midlands to judge by its construction and the vegetation in the park. There is a window, one of which is almost blocked by a scream of climbing glycines. In the afternoon I am allowed to walk about the park at certain hours, but I am kept under un-relaxing observation. I am writing this letter on the mere chance of its reaching you and fastening it to a stone. Perhaps one day I shall be able to throw it over the wall and some peasant will pick it up. But do not be distressed about me. I am treated with every consideration. I have the trouble he is giving you. Butrelay. Isidore at once looked at the postmarks. They read The Andre, the department of which he had been stubbornly searching for weeks. He consulted a little pocket-guide which he always carried. Cousillon in the canton of Eguzon he had been there too. For prudence's sake he discarded his personality as an Englishman which was becoming too well known in the district, it was an unimportant village. He would easily discover the sender of the letter. For that matter chance served him without delay. A letter posted on Wednesday last exclaimed the Mayor, a respectable tradesman in whom he confided and who placed himself at his disposal. Listen, I think I can give you a valuable clue. On Saturday morning Gaffa Charelle, an old knife-grinder who visits all the fairs in the department met me at the end of the village and asked, Does the letter without a stamp on it go all the same? Of course, I said. And does it get there? Certainly. Only there's double postage to pay on it. That's all the difference. And where does he live? He lives over there, all alone, on the slope, the hovel that comes next after the churchyard. Shall I go with you? It was a hovel standing by itself in the middle of an orchard surrounded by tall trees. As they entered the orchard there was a very hole in which the watchdog was fastened and the dog neither barked nor stirred as they approached. Bochelet went up in great surprise. The brute was lying on its side with stiff paws, dead. They ran quickly to the cottage. The doors stood open. They entered. At the back of a low damp room on a wretched straw mattress flung on the floor itself lay a man fully dressed. Gaffa Charelle, his face terribly pale but his heart was still beating with a faint slow throb and he seemed not to be wounded in any way. They tried to resuscitate him and as they failed in their efforts Bochelet went to fetch a doctor. The doctor succeeded no better than they had done. The old man did not seem to be suffering. He looked as if he were just asleep but with an artificial slumber as though he had been put to sleep by hypnotism or with the aid of a narcotic. In the middle of the night however, Isidor who was watching by his side observed that the breathing became stronger and that his whole being appeared to be throwing off the invisible bonds that paralyzed it. At daybreak he woke up and resumed his normal functions ate, drank and moved about but the whole day long he was unable to reply to the young man's questions and his brain seemed as though still numbed by an inexplicable torpor. The next day he asked Bochelet whether he was surprised at the presence of a stranger beside him. Gradually in this way he recovered all his faculties. He talked, he made plans but when Bochelet asked him about the events immediately preceding his sleep he seemed not to understand and Bochelet felt that he really did not understand. He had lost the recollection of all that had happened since the Friday before. It was like a sudden gap made at the fair the meals he had taken at the inn. Then nothing, nothing more. He believed himself to be waking on the morrow of that day. It was horrible for Bochelet. The truth lay there in those eyes which had seen the walls of the park behind which his father was waiting for him in those hands which had picked up the letter in that muddled brain which had recorded the whereabouts of that scene, the setting, the little corner of the world in that train he was unable to extract the faintest echo of the truth so near at hand. All that impalpable and formidable obstacle against which all his efforts held themselves in vain that obstacle built up of silence and oblivion how clearly it bore the mark of our Sen Lupin. He alone informed no doubt that Monsieur Bochelet had attempted to give a signal. He alone could have struck with partial death the one man that Lupin hearing of his stealthy attack and knowing that a letter had reached him was defending himself against him personally. But what an amount of foresight and real intelligence it displayed to suppress any possible accusation on the part of that chance wayfarer. Nobody now knew that within the walls of a park there lay a prisoner asking for help. Nobody? Yes, Bochelet. Gaffer Charelle was unable to speak very well. He was not able to speak and which was the logical road that he had taken to return by. And along this road perhaps it would at last be possible to find. Isidore, as it was, had been careful not to visit Gaffer Charelle's hovel except with the greatest precautions and in such a way as not to give an alarm. He now decided not to go back to it. He made inquiries and learned that Friday was market day at Fresseline, a fair-sized town situated a few leagues off and could be reached either by the rather winding high road or by a series of shortcuts. On the Friday he chose the road and saw nothing that attracted his attention no high walled enclosure, no semblance of an old castle. He launched at an inn at Fresseline and was on the point of leaving when he saw Gaffer Charelle arrive and cross the square wheeling his little knife-grinding barrow before him. He had once followed him at a good distance. The old man made two interminable and then at last he went away by a quite different road which ran in the direction of Croissant and the market town of Aiguison. Bautrallet followed him along this road but he had not walked five minutes before he received the impression that he was not alone in shadowing the old fellow. A man was walking along between them stopping at the same time as Charelle and starting off again when he did without, for that matter, taking any great precautions against being seen. They watched, thought Bautrallet. Perhaps they want to know if he stops in front of the walls. His heart beat violently. The event was at hand. The three of them, one behind the other, climbed up and down the steep slopes of the country and arrived at Croissant famed for the colossal ruins of its castle. There Charelle made a halt of an hour's duration. Next he went down to the riverside and crossed the bridge. But then a thing happened and he was lost in his eyes. The other man did not cross the river. He watched the old fellow move away and when he had lost sight of him turned down a path that took him right across the fields. Bautrallet hesitated for a few seconds as to what course to take and then quietly decided. He set off in pursuit of the man. He has made sure he thought that Gatha Charelle has gone straight ahead. That is all he wanted to know and so he is going. Where? To the castle? He built it by a sort of agonizing gladness that uplifted his whole being. The man plunged into a dark wood overhanging the river and then appeared once more in the full light where the path met the horizon. When Bautrallet in his turn emerged from the wood he was greatly surprised no longer to see the man. He was seeking him with his eyes when suddenly he gave a stifled cry and with the backward spring made for the line of trees which he had just left. On his right he had seen a rampart of high walls flanked at regular distances by massive buttresses. It was there, it was there! Those walls held his father captive. He had found the secret place where Lupincon find his victim. He dared not quit the shelter which the thick foliage of the wood afforded him. Slowly, almost on all fours he bore to the right and in this way reached the top of a hillock that rose to the level of the neighbouring trees. The walls were taller still. Nevertheless, he perceived the roof of the castle which they surrounded an old Louis XIIIth roof surmounted by very slender bell turrets arranged corbel-wise around a higher steeple which ran to a point. Bautrallet did no more that day. He felt the need to reflect and to prepare his plan of attack without leaving anything to chance. He held Lupincon safe and it was for Bautrallet now to select the hour and the manner of the combat. He walked away. Near the bridge he met two country girls carrying pales of milk. He asked, What is the name of the castle over there behind the trees? That's the Château de la Guille, sir. He had put his question without attaching any importance to it. The answer took away his breath. The Château de la Guille. Oh, but in what department are we? The Andres? Certainly not. The Andres is on the other side of the river. This side it's the Creuse. I saw it all in a flash. The Château de la Guille. The Department of the Creuse. La Guille Creuse. The Hollow Needle. The very key to the document. Certain decisive absolute victory. Without another word he turned his back on the two girls and went his way, tottering like a drunken man. End of Chapter 5 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recorded by Ophelia Ed in New South Wales, Australia August 2006 The Hollow Needle Further Adventures of Arsène Lupin by Maurice Leblanc Translated by Alexandre Texera de Matos Chapter 6 An Historic Secret Bautrillet's resolve was soon taken. He would act alone. To inform the police was too dangerous. Apart from the fact that he could only offer presumptions he dreaded the slowness of the police, their inevitable indiscretions, the whole preliminary inquiry during which Lupin, who was sure to be warned would have time to effect a retreat in good order. At eight o'clock the next morning with his bundle under his arm he left the inn in which he was staying near Cusion made for the nearest thicket, took off his workman's clothes later that he had been and went to call on the notary at Aiguison, the largest place in the immediate neighbourhood. He said that he liked the country and that he was thinking of taking up his residence there with his relations if he could find a suitable house. The notary mentioned a number of properties. Bautrillet took note of them and let fall that someone had spoken to him of the Château de l'Aiguille on the bank of the Creuse. Oh yes, but the Château de l'Aiguille which has belonged to one of my clients in the last five years is not for sale. He lives in it then? He used to live in it, or rather his mother did, but she did not care for it, found the castle rather gloomy, so they left it last year. And is no one living there at present? Yes, an Italian to whom my client led it for the summer season, Baron Unfreddy. Oh, Baron Unfreddy, a man still young, rather grave and solemn looking? I'm sure I can't say my client dealt with him direct. No, he never leaves the castle. Sometimes in his motor at night, so they say. The marketing is done by an old cook who talks to nobody. They are queer people. Do you think your client would consent to sell his castle? I don't think so. It's an historic castle built in the purest Louis XIII style. My client was very fond of it, and unless he has changed his mind, can you give me his name and address? Oh, Rude Mont-Tabor. Baudrillet took the train for Paris at the nearest station. On the next day, but one, after three fruitless calls, he at last found Louis Valmarat at home. He was a man of about thirty, with a frank and pleasing face. Baudrillet saw no need to beat about the bush, stated who he was, and described his efforts and the object of the step which he was now taking. I have good reason to believe, he concluded, that my father and I have come to ask you what you know of your tenant, Baron Unfreddy. Not much. I met Baron Unfreddy last winter at Monte Carlo. He had heard by accident that I was the owner of the Chateau de la Guille, and as he wished to spend the summer in France, he made me an offer for it. He is still a young man, yes, with very expressive eyes, fair hair, and a beard. Yes, ending in two points, which fall over a collar fastened at the back like a clergyman's. It's he as I have seen him, it's his exact description. What, do you think? I think, I am sure that your tenant is none other than Arsène Lupin. The story amused Louis Valmira. He knew all the adventures of Arsène Lupin and the varying fortunes of his struggle with Baudrillet. He rubbed his hands. Ha! the Chateau de la Guille will become famous. I'm sure I don't mind. For as a matter of fact, now that my mother no longer lives in it, I have always thought that I would get rid of it after this I shall soon find a purchaser. Only, only what? I will ask you to act with the most extreme prudence and not to inform the police until you are quite sure. Can you pick to the situation, supposing my tenant were not Arsène Lupin? Baudrillet set forth his plan. He would go alone at night. He would climb the walls. He would sleep in the park. Louis Valmira stopped him at once. You will not climb walls of that height so easily. If you do, you will be received by two huge sheep-dogs which belong to my mother and which I left behind at the castle. Ha! a dose of poison. Much obliged. But suppose you escaped them, what then? How would you get into the castle? The doors are massive, the windows barred. And even then, once you were inside, who would guide you? There are eighty rooms. Yes, but that room with two windows on the second story. I know it. We call it the Glycine Room. But how will you find it? There are four cases and a labyrinth of passages. I can give you the clue and explain the way to you, but you would get lost just the same. Come with me," said Baudrillet, laughing. I can't. I have promised to go to my mother in the south. Baudrillet returned to the friend with whom he was staying and began to make his preparations. But late in the day as he was getting ready to go he received a visit from Valmira. Do you still want me? Rather. Well, I'm coming with you. Yes, the expedition fascinates me. It will be very amusing and I like being mixed up in this sort of thing. Besides, my help will be of use to you. Look, here's something to start with. He held up a big key, all covered with rust and looking very old. What is the key open? asked Baudrillet. A little post turn hidden between two buttresses and left unused since centuries ago. I did not even think of pointing it out to my tenant. It opened straight on the country, just at the verge of the wood. Baudrillet interrupted him quickly. They know all about that outlet. It was obviously by this way that the man whom I followed entered the park. Come, it's fine game and we shall win it, but by Jupiter we must play our cards carefully. Two days later a half famished horse dragged a gypsy caravan into croissant. Its driver obtained leave to stable it at the end of the village in an old deserted cart shed. In addition to the driver, who was none other than Valmira, there were three young men themselves in the manufacture of wicker work chairs, Baudrillet and two of his gents and friends. They stayed there for three days waiting for a propitious, moonless night and roaming singly round the outskirts of the park. Once Baudrillet saw the post turn. Contrived between two buttresses placed very close together, it was almost merged behind this screen of brambles that concealed it in the pattern formed by the stones of the wall. At last on the fourth evening the sky was covered with heavy black clouds and Valmira decided they should go to the next building at the risk of having to return again should circumstances prove unfavorable. All four crossed the little wood. Then Baudrillet crept through the heather, scratched his hands at the bramble hedge and half raising himself slowly with restrained movements put the key into the lock. He turned it gently. Would the door open without an effort? Was there no bolt closing it on the other side? He pushed. The door opened without creak or jolt he was in the park. For me you two chaps watch the door and keep our line of retreat open at the least alarm whistle. He took Baudrillet's hand and they plunged into the dense shadow of the thickets. A clearer space was revealed to them when they reached the edge of the central lawn. At the same moment a ray of moonlight pierced the clouds and they saw the castle with its pointed turrets arranged around the tapering spire to which no doubt it owed its name. There was no light in the windows, not a sound. But still. What is it? The dogs over there look. There was a growl. Valmarais gave a low whistle. Two white forms leapt forward and in four bounds came and crouched at their master's feet. Gently, lie down, that's it, good dogs, stay there. And he said to Baudrillet, and now let us push on, I feel more comfortable. Are you sure of the way? Yes, we are near the terrace. There is a shutter which closes badly and which can be opened from the outside. They found when they came to it that the shutter yielded to pressure. Valmarais removed a pane with a diamond which he carried. He turned the window latch. First one and then the other stepped over the balcony. They were now in the castle at the end of a passage which divided the left wing into two. This room, said Valmarais, opens at the end of a passage. Then comes an immense hall led by your father. He took a step forward. Are you coming, Baudrillet? Yes, yes. But no, you're not coming. What's the matter with you? He seized him by the hand. It was icy cold and he perceived that the young man was cowering on the floor. What's the matter with you? He repeated. Nothing, it'll pass off. But what is it? I'm afraid. That's the excitement. And then, since I was stabbed by that magistrate's clerk, it will pass off there. It's passing now. He succeeded in rising to his feet and Valmarais dragged him out of the room. They groped their way along the passage so softly that neither could hear a sound made by the other. A faint glimmer, however, seemed to light the hall for which they were making. Valmarais put his head around the corner. It was a nightlight placed in the corners of a palm tree. Halt! whispered Valmarais. Near the nightlight a man stood sentry carrying a gun. Had he seen them? Perhaps. At least something must have alarmed him for he brought the gun to his shoulder. Bortrelet had fallen on his knees against a tub containing a plant and he remained quite still with his heart thumping against his chest. Meanwhile the silence and the absence of all movement reassured the man. Valmarais was in a state of confusion of the tub. Terrible minutes passed. Ten minutes fifteen. A moonbeam had glided through a window on the staircase and suddenly Bortrelet became aware that the moonbeam was shifting imperceptibly and that before fifteen, before ten more minutes had elapsed it would be shining full in his face. Great drops of perspiration fell from his forehead on his trembling hands. His anguish was such that he was but remembering that Valmarais was there he sought him with his eyes and was astounded to see him or rather to imagine him creeping in the dark under cover of the statues and plants. He was already at the foot of the stairs within a few steps of the man. What was he going to do? To pass in spite of all? To go upstairs alone and release the prisoner? But could he pass? Bortrelet no longer saw him and he had an impression that something was about to take place which hung heavier more awful than before. And suddenly a shadow springing upon the man the night light extinguished the sound of a struggle Bortrelet ran up the two bodies had rolled over on the flagstones he tried to stoop and see but he heard a horse moan, a sigh and one of the adversaries rose to his feet and seized him by the arm. Quick come along! It was Valmarais they went up two stories and came out at the entrance to a corridor to the right whispered Valmarais the fourth room on the left they soon found the door of the room as they expected the captive was locked in it took them half an hour half an hour of stifled efforts of muffled attempts to force open the lock the door yielded at last Bortrelet groped his way to the bed his father was asleep he woke him gently it's is he door and a friend don't be afraid get up not a word whispered I am not alone in the castle ah, who else? Ganymar? she is? no, at least I have not seen them who then? a young girl Mademoiselle de Saint-Verron, no doubt I don't know I saw her several times at a distance in the park and when I lean out of my window I can see hers she has made signals to me do you know which is her room? yes, in this passage there is much trouble one of the two leaves very soon gave way old Bortrelet undertook to tell the girl ten minutes later he left the room with her and said to his son you were right, Mademoiselle de Saint-Verron they all four went down the stairs when they reached the bottom Valmaras stopped and bent over the man then leading them to the terrace room he is not dead, he said he will live ah, said Bortrelet with a sigh of relief no, fortunately the blade of my knife bent the blow is not fatal the blades in any case those rascals deserve no pity outside they were met by the dogs which accompanied them to the postern here Bortrelet found his two friends and the little band left in the park it was three o'clock in the morning this first victory was not enough to satisfy Bortrelet as soon as he had comfortably settled his father and Mademoiselle de Saint-Verron he asked them about the people who lived at the castle and particularly about the habits of Arsène Lupin living at night in his motor-car and leaving again in the morning at each of his visits he called separately upon his two prisoners both of whom agreed in praising his courtesy and his extreme civility for the moment he was not at the castle apart from him they had seen no one except an old woman who ruled over the kitchen and the house and two men who kept watch over them by turns and never spoke to them subordinates obviously to judge by their manners and appearance two accomplices for all that and the other three with the old woman it is a bag worth having and if we lose no time he jumped on his bicycle rode to aiguisons, woke up the gendarmerie set them all going made them sound the bouton saddle and returned to croissant at eight o'clock accompanied by the sergeant and eight gendarmes two of the men were posted beside the gypsy van two others took up their positions outside the posteur-endor the last four commanded by their chief and accompanied by Bortrelet the door was wide open a peasant told them that he had seen a motor-car drive out of the castle an hour before indeed the search led to no result in all probability the gang had installed themselves their picnic fashion a few clothes were found a little linen, some household implements that was all what astonished Bortrelet and Valmera Moore was the disappearance of the wounded man they could not see the faintest trace material evidence to prove the fleeting presence of Lupin at the château de l'Aguille and the authorities would have been entitled to challenge the statements of Bortrelet and his father of Valmera and Mademoiselle de Saint-Véran had they not ended by discovering in a room next to that occupied by the young girl some half-dozen exquisite bouquets with Arsène Lupin's card pinned to them bouquets scorned by her faded and forgotten one of them in addition to the card contained a letter which Raymond had not seen that afternoon when opened by Magistrate it was found to contain page upon page of prayers in treaties promises, threats, despair all the madness of a love that has encountered nothing but contempt and repulsion and the letter ended I shall come on Tuesday evening Raymond reflect between now and then as for me I will wait no longer I am resolved on all Tuesday evening was the evening of the very day on which Bortrelet had released Mademoiselle de Saint-Véran from her captivity the reader will remember the explosion of surprise and enthusiasm that resounded throughout the world at the news of that unexpected issue Mademoiselle de Saint-Véran free the pretty girl whom Lupin coveted to secure whom he had contrived his most Machiavellian schemes snatched from his claws free also Bortrelet's father whom Lupin had chosen as a hostage in his extravagant longing for the armistice demanded by the needs of his passion they were both free the two prisoners and the secret of the hollow needle was known published flung to the four corners of the world the crowd amused itself with a will ballads were sold and sung about the defeated adventurer Lupin's little love affairs Arsène's piteous sobs the love-sick burglar the pickpockets lament they were cried on the boulevards and hummed in the artist's studios Raymond pressed with questions and pursued by interviewers replied with the most extreme reserve no denying the letter or the bouquets of flowers or any part of the pitiful story then and there Lupin scoffed and jeered at toppled from his pedestal and Bortrelet became the popular idol he had foretold everything throw and light on everything the evidence which mademoiselle de Saint-Véran gave before the examining magistrate confirmed down to the smallest detail the hypothesis imagined by Isidore reality seemed to submit in every point to what he had decreed beforehand Bortrelet had found his master Bortrelet insisted that his father before returning to his mountains in Savoy should take a few months rest in the sunshine and himself escorted him and mademoiselle de Saint-Véran to the outskirts of Nice where the Count de Gèvres and his daughter Suzanne were already settled for the winter two days later Valmara brought his mother to see his new friends and they thus composed a little colony grouped around the Villa de Gèvres and watched over day and night early in October Bortrelet once more the sixth form pupil returned to Paris to resume the interupted course of his studies and to prepare for his examinations and life began again calmer this time and free from incident what could happen for that matter was the war not over Lupin on his side must have felt this very clearly must have felt that there was nothing left for him but to resign himself to the accomplished fact for one fine day his two other victims who returned to the life of this planet however was devoid of any sort of glamour or fascination an itinerant ragman picked them up on the Quidès or Lèvres opposite the headquarters of police both of them were gagged, bound and fast asleep after a week of complete bewilderment they succeeded in recovering the control of their thought and told, or rather Ghanimar told for she is wrapped himself in a fierce and stubborn silence how they had made a voyage combining amusement with instruction during which they could look upon themselves as free save for a few hours which they spent at the bottom of the hold while the crew went on shore at outlandish ports as for their landing on the Quidès or Lèvres they remembered nothing about it and had probably been asleep for many days before this liberation of the prisoners was the final confession of defeat by ceasing to fight Lupin admitted it without reserve one incident moreover made it still more glaring which was the engagement of Louis Valmerin and Mademoiselle de Saint-Véran in the intimacy created between them by the new conditions under which they lived the two young people fell in love with each other Valmerin loved Raymond's melancholy charm and she wounded by life greedy for protection yielded before the strength and energy of the man who had contributed so gallantly to her preservation the wedding day was awaited with a certain amount of anxiety would Lupin not try to resume the offensive? would he accept with a good grace the irretrievable loss of the woman he loved twice or three times suspicious looking people were seen prowling round the villa and Valmerin even had to defend himself one evening against a so-called drunken man who fired a pistol at him and sent a bullet through his head but in the end the ceremony was performed at the appointed hour and day and Raymond de Saint-Véran became Madame Louis Valmerin it was as though fate herself had taken size with Boucherlet and counter-signed the news of victory this was so apparent to the crowd that his admirers now conceived the notion of entertaining him at a banquet to celebrate his triumph and Lupin's overthrow it was a great idea and aroused general enthusiasm three hundred tickets were sold in less than a fortnight invitations were issued to the public schools of Paris to send two sixth form parties the press sang paeans the banquet was what it could not fail to be an apotheosis but it was a charming and simple apotheosis because Boucherlet was its hero his presence was enough to bring things back to their due proportion he showed himself modest as usual a little surprised at the excessive cheering a little embarrassed by the extravagant panergyrics in which he was pronounced greater than the most illustrious detectives a little embarrassed but also not a little touched by the words that pleased all his hearers and with the shyness of a child that blushes when you look at it he spoke of his delight of his pride and really reasonable and self-controlled as he was this was for him a moment of never-to-be-forgotten exaltation he smiled to his friends to his fellow Janshonians to Valmarat who had come specially to give him a cheer to Monsieur de Gervre to his father in a room and someone was gesticulating and waving a newspaper silence was restored and the importunate person sat down again but a thrill of curiosity ran around the table the newspaper was passed from hand to hand and each time that one of the guests cast his eyes upon the page at which it was opened exclamations followed read it, read it they cried from the opposite side the people were leaving their seats at the principal table Monsieur Boucherlet went and took the paper out, read it out they cried louder and others said listen, he's going to read it, listen Boucherlet stood facing his audience looked in the evening paper which his father had given him for the article that was causing all this uproar and suddenly his eyes encountering a heading underlined in blue pencil he raised his hand to call for silence and began in a loud voice to read a letter addressed to the editor his voice broke and fell little by little as he read those stupefying revelations which reduced all his efforts to nothing upset his notions concerning the hollow needle and proved the vanity of his struggle with Arsène Lupin on the 17th of March 1679 there appeared a little book with the following title the mystery of the hollow needle the whole truth now first exhibited 100 copies printed by myself for the instruction of the court at nine o'clock on the morning of that day the author, a very young man well-dressed whose name has remained unknown began to leave his book on the principal persons at court at ten o'clock when he had fulfilled four of these errands he was arrested by a captain in the guards who took him to the king's closet and forthwith set off in search of the four copies distributed when the hundred copies were got together counted, carefully looked through and verified he himself threw them into the fire and burnt them all but one which he kept for his own purposes then he ordered the captain of the guards to take the author of the book to Monsieur de Saint-Marx who confined his prisoner first at Pignérole and then in the fortress of the Il Saint Marguerite this man was obviously no other than the famous man with the iron mask the truth would never have been known or at least a part of the truth if the captain in the guards had not been present at the interview if when the king's back was turned he had not been tempted to withdraw another of the copies from the chimney before the fire got to it six months later the captain was found dead on the high road between Gaillon and Mont his murderers had stripped him of all his apparel forgetting however in his right boot a jewel which was discovered there afterward a diamond of the first water and of considerable value among his papers was found a sheet in his handwriting in which he did not speak of the book in the summary of the earlier chapters it referred to a secret which was known to the kings of England which was lost by them when the crown passed from the poor fool Henry VI to the Duke of York which was revealed to Charles VII King of France by Joan of Arc and which becoming a state secret was handed down from sovereign to sovereign by means of a letter sealed anew on each occasion which was found in the deceased monarch's deathbed with this superscription for the King of France he discerned the existence and described the whereabouts of a tremendous treasure belonging to the kings which increased in dimensions from century to century one hundred and fourteen years earlier Louis XVI then a prisoner in the temple took aside one of the officers whose duty it was to guard the royal family and asked Monsieur, had you not an ancestor who served as a captain under my predecessor the great king? Yes, Sire the officer completed the sentence not to betray your majesty oh, Sire then listen to me he took from his pocket a little book of which he tore out one of the last pages but, altering his mind no, I had better copy it he seized a large sheet of paper and tore it in such a way as to leave only a small rectangular space on which he copied five lines of dots, letters and figures from the printed page then after burning the latter under the manuscript sheet in four sealed it with red wax and gave it to the officer Monsieur, after my death you must hand this to the queen and say to her from the king madam for your majesty and for your son if she does not understand if she does not understand, Sire you must add it concerns the secret the secret of the needle the queen will understand when he had finished speaking he flung the book into the embers in January it took the officer several months in consequence of the removal of the queen to the concierge before he could fulfil the mission with which he was entrusted at last, by dint of cunning intrigues he succeeded one day in finding himself in the presence of Marie Antoinette speaking so that she could just hear him he said, madam from the late king your husband for your majesty and your son and he gave her the sealed letter she did not see her broke the seals appeared surprised at the sight of those undecipherable lines and then all at once seemed to understand she smiled bitterly and the officer caught the words why so late she hesitated where should she hide this dangerous document at last she opened her book of hours and slipped the paper into a sort of secret pocket contrived between the leather of the binding and the parchment that covered it why so late it is in fact probable that this document if it could have saved her came too late for in the month of October next Queen Marie Antoinette ascended the scaffold in her turn now the officer when going through his family papers came upon his ancestors manuscript from that moment he had but one idea which was to devote his leisure to elucidating this strange problem he read all the Latin authors studied all the chronicles of France and those of the neighbouring countries books, cartularies, treaties and in this way succeeded in discovering certain references scattered over the ages in book three of Caesar's commentaries on the Gallic War M.S. edition Alexandria it is stated that after the defeat of the chief of the Caleti was brought before Caesar and that for his ransom he revealed the secret of the needle the treaty of between Charles the simple and Rolo the chief of the Norse Barbarians his name followed by all his titles among which we read that of master of the secret of the needle the Saxon Chronicle Gibson's edition page 134 speaking of William the Conqueror says that the staff of his banner ended in a steel point pierced with an eye like a needle in a rather ambiguous phrase in her examination Joan of Arc admits that she still has a great secret to tell the king of France to which her judges reply you know of what you speak and that Joan is why you shall die the death Philippe de Commine mentions it in connection with Louis XI and later Sully in connection with Henry IV by the virtue of the needle the good king sometimes swears between these two Francis I in a speech addressed to the notables of the Avre in 1520 uttered this phrase which has been handed down in the diary of an enfleur bergers the kings of France carry secrets often decide the conduct of affairs and the fate of towns all these quotations all the stories relating to the iron mask the captain of the guards and his descendant I have found today in a pamphlet written by this same descendant unpublished in the month of June 1815 just before or after the battle of Waterloo in a period therefore of great upheavals in which the revelations which it contained were likely to pass unperceived what is the value of this pamphlet nothing you will tell me I must attach no credit to it and this is the impression which I myself would have carried away if it had not occurred to me to open Caesar's commentaries at the chapter given what was my astonishment when I came upon the phrase quoted in the little book before me and it was the same thing with the treaty of Sainte-Claire-sur-Ept with the Saxon Chronicle with the examination of Joan of Arc in short with all that I have been able to verify up to the present lastly there is an even more precise fact related by the author of the pamphlet in 1815 during the French campaign he being then an officer under Napoleon his horse dropped dead one evening and he rang at the door of a castle where he was received by an old knight of St. Louis and in the course of conversation with the old man he learned that this castle standing on the bank of the Khurs was called the Château de la Guille that it had been built and christened by Louis XIV and that by his express order he was called to the court and must still bear the figure 1680 1680 one year after the publication of the book and the imprisonment of the iron mask everything was now explained Louis XIV foreseeing that the secret might be noise abroad had built and named the castle so as to offer the quidnunks a natural explanation of the ancient mystery the hollow needle a castle with pointed bell turrets standing on the bank of the Khurs and belonging to the king people would at once think they had the key to the riddle and all inquiries would cease the calculation was just seeing that more than two centuries later Monsieur Bautrillet fell into the trap and this sir is what I was leading up to in writing this letter if Lupin under the name of Anfrédit rented from Monsieur Valmarat the Château de la Guille on the bank of the Khurs if admitting the success of the inevitable investigations of Monsieur Bautrillet and because with the object of obtaining the piece for which he had asked he laid for Monsieur Bautrillet precisely what we may call the historic trap of Louis XIV and hence we come to this undeniable conclusion that he Lupin by his unaided lights without possessing any other facts than those which we possess managed by means of the witchcraft of a really extraordinary genius to decipher the undecipherable document and that he would not be able to do anything else and that he Lupin the last heir of the kings of France knows the royal mystery of the hollow needle here ended the letter but for some minutes from the passage that referred to the Château de la Guille onward it was not Bautrillet's but another voice that read it out loud realizing his defeat crushed under the weight of his humiliation Isidore had dropped the newspaper and sunk into his chair with his face buried in his hands panting shaken with excitement by this incredible story the crowd had come gradually nearer and was now pressing round with a thrill of anguish they waited for the words which he would say and reply the objections which he would raise he did not stir Valmara gently uncrossed his hands and raised his head Isidore Bautrillet was weeping End of Chapter 6 This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording Bagazine The Hollow Needle Further Adventures by Orsonne Lupin by Maurice Leblanc Translated by Alexandre Tesera de Matos Chapter 7 The Treatise of the Needle It is four o'clock in the morning Isidore has not returned before the end of the war of extermination which he has declared against Lupin this much he swore to himself under his breath while his friends drove off with him all faint and bruised in a cab Amados an absurd and illogical war what can he do a single unarmed stripling against that phenomenon of energy and strength on which side is he to attack him he is unassailable where to wound him he is invulnerable where to get at him he is inaccessible four o'clock in the morning Isidore has once again accepted his school fellow's hospitality standing before the chimney in his bedroom with his elbows flat on the mantel shelf and his two fists under his chin he stares at his image in the looking glass he is not crying now he can shed no more tears nor fling himself about on his bed nor give way to despair as he has been doing for the last two hours and more he wants to think to think and understand and he does not remove his eyes from the same eyes reflected in the glass as though he hoped to double his powers of thought by contemplating his pensive image as though he hoped to find at the back of that mirrored potrouillet the unsolvable solution of what he does not find within himself he stands thus until six o'clock and little by little the question presents itself to his mind with the strictness of an equation bare and dry and cleared of all the details that complicate and obscure it yes he has made a mistake yes his reading of the document is all wrong the word aiguille does not point to the castle or the crows also the word demoiselle cannot be applied to Raymond de Saint-Veron and her cousin because the text of the document dates back for centuries therefore all must be done over again from the beginning how? one piece of evidence alone would be incontestable the book published under Louis XIV now of the two hundred copies printed by the person who was presumed to be the man with the iron mask only two escaped the flames one was perloined by the captain of the guards and lost the other was kept by Louis XIV himself hunted down to Louis XV and burnt by Louis XVI but a copy of the essential page the page containing the solution of the problem the graphic solution was conveyed to Marie-Antoinette who slipped it into the binding of her book of hours what has become of this paper? is it the one which Boutroulis has held in his hands and which Lupin recovered from him through Bredoux the magistrate's clock or is it still in Marie-Antoinette's book of hours and the question resolves itself into this what has become of the Queen's book of hours after taking a short rest Boutroulis consulted his friend's father an old and experienced collector who was often called upon officially to give an expert opinion and who had quite lately been invited to advise the director of one of our museums on the drawing up of the catalogue Marie-Antoinette's book of hours he exclaimed why the Queen left it to her waiting woman with secret instructions to forward it to Count Fersen after being piously preserved in the Count's family it has been for the last five years in a glass case in a glass case in the Musée Carnavalet quite simply when will the museum be open at 20 minutes from now as it is every morning Isidore and his friend jumped out of a cab at the moment when the doors of Madame de Savigne's old mansion were opening Hello, Mr Boutroulis a dozen voices greeted his arrival to his great surprise he recognized the whole crowd of reporters who were following up the mystery of the hollow needle and one of them exclaimed funny isn't it that we should all have had the same idea take care Arsène Lupin may be among us they entered the museum together and was at once informed placed himself entirely at their disposal took them to the glass case and showed them a poor little volume devoid of all ornament which certainly had nothing royal about it nevertheless they were overcome by a certain emotion at the sight of this object which the Queen had touched in those tragic days which her eyes, red with tears had looked upon and they dared not take it and hunt through it as if it were a secret passage come, Mr Boutroulis it's your business he took the book with an anxious gesture the description corresponded with that given by the author of the pamphlet outside was a parchment cover dirty stained and worn in places and under it the real binding in stiff leather with what a thrill Boutroulis felt for the hidden pocket was it a fairy tale the document written by Louis XVI and bequeathed by his Queen to her fervent admirer at the first page on the upper side of the book there was no receptacle nothing he muttered nothing they echoed palpitating with excitement but at the last page forcing back the book a little he at once saw that the parchment was in the back of the binding he slipped his fingers in between there was something yes he felt something a paper oh he gasped in an accent almost of pain here is it possible quick, quick they cried what are you waiting for he drew out a sheet folded in two well, read it look, it might be blood pale faded blood read it he read to you Fersen for my son 16th of October 1793 Marie-Antoinette and suddenly Boutroulis gave a cry of stupefaction under the Queen's signature there were there were two words in black ink two words Arsène Lupin all in turns took the sheet of paper and the same cry escaped from the lips of all of them Marie-Antoinette Arsène Lupin a great silence followed that double signature those two names coupled together discovered hidden in the Book of Hours that relic in which the poor Queen's desperate appeal had slumbered that horrible date of the 16th of October 1793 the day on which the royal had fell all of this was most dismally and disconcertingly tragic Arsène Lupin stammered one of the voices thus emphasizing the scare that underlay the sight of that demonical name at the foot of that hallowed page yes, Arsène Lupin repeated Boutroulis the Queen's friend had desperate dying appeal he lived with a keepsake in his possession which the woman whom he loved had sent him and he never guessed the reason of that keepsake Lupin discovered everything on the other hand and took it took what? the document, of course the document written by Louis XVI and it is that which I held in my hands the same appearance the same shape that Lupin would not leave me a document which I could turn to account by merely examining the paper the seals and so on and then well then since the document is genuine since I have with my own eyes seen the marks of the red seals since Marie-Antoinette herself assures me by these few words in her hand that the whole story of the pamphlet as printed by M. Massibon is correct it still really exists I am now certain to succeed but how? whether genuine or not the document is of no use to you if you do not manage to decipher it because Louis XIV destroyed the book that gave the explanation yes but the other copy which King Louis XVI's captain of the guards snatched from the flames was not destroyed how do you know? prove the contrary after uttering this defines Portroli was silent for a time and then slowly with his eyes closed as they're trying to fix and sum up with his thoughts he said possessing the secret the captain of the guards begins by revealing it bit by bit in the journal found by his descendant then comes silence the answer to the riddle is withheld why? because the temptation to make use of the secret creeps over him little by little and he gives way to it a proof? his murder a further proof? the magnificent jewel found upon him which he must undoubtedly have taken from some royal treasure the hiding place of which unknown to all would just constitute the mystery of the hollow needle Lupin conveyed as much to me that the treasure was not lying then what conclusion do you draw Portroli? I draw this conclusion my friends that it be a good thing to advertise this story as much as possible so that people may know through all the papers that we are looking for a book entitled The Treatise of the Needle it may be fished out from the backshelves of some provincial library the paragraph was drawn up forthwith and Portroli set to work at once without even waiting for it to produce a result a first scent suggested itself the murder was committed near Gaillon he went there the same day certainly he did not hope to reconstruct a crime perpetrated 200 years ago but all the same there are crimes that leave traces in the memories in the traditions of a countryside they are recorded in the local chronicles one day some provincial archaeologist some lover of old legends some student of the minor incidents of the life of the past makes them the subject of an article in a newspaper or of a communication to the academy of his departmental town Portroli saw three or four of these archaeologists with one of them in particular an old notary he examined the prison records the ledges of the old Bailey Wicks and the parish registers there was no entry referring to the murder of a captain of the guards in the 17th century he refused to be discouraged and continued to search in Paris where the magistrate's examination might have taken place his efforts came to nothing but the sort of another track sent him off in a fresh direction was there no chance of finding out the name of the captain who's descendant served in the armies of the republic and was quartered in the temple during the imprisonment of the royal family by dint of patient working he ended up making out a list in which two names at least presented an almost complete resemblance Monsieur de l'arberie under Louis XIV and citizen l'arbrie under the terror this already was an important point he stated it with precision in a note which he sent to the papers asking for any information concerning this l'arberie or his descendants it was Monsieur Massibon the Massibon of the pamphlet the member of the institute who replied to him Sir allow me to call your attention to the following passage of Voltaire which I came upon in his manuscript of the siècle de Louis XIV chapter 25 particularité et anecdote du règne the passage has been suppressed in all the printed editions quote I have heard it said by the late Monsieur de Comartin Intendant of finance who was a friend of Shamilar the minister that the king one day left hurriedly in his carriage at the news that the l'arbrie had been murdered and robbed of some magnificent jewels he seemed greatly excited and repeated all is lost, all is lost in the following year the son of this l'arbrie and his daughter who had married the Marquis de Villain were banished to their estates and province and Brittany we cannot doubt that there is something peculiar in this that we can doubt it all the less in as much as Monsieur de Shamilar according to Voltaire was the last minister who possessed the strange secret of the iron mask you will see for yourself sir the prophet that can be derived from this passage and the evident link established between the two adventures as for myself I will not venture to imagine any very exact surmise as regards the conduct on the other hand seeing that Monsieur de l'arbrie left his son who was probably the grandfather of l'arbrie the citizen officer and also a daughter is it not permissible to suppose that a part of the papers left by l'arbrie came to the daughter and that among these papers was the famous copy which the captain of the guards saved from the flames I have consulted the country house yearbook not far from Rennes could he be a descendant of the Marquis at any rate I wrote to him yesterday on chance to ask if he had not in his possession a little old book bearing on its title page the word Egi and I am awaiting his reply it would give me the greatest pleasure to talk of all these matters with you if you can spare the time come and see me I am sir etc etc of course I shall not communicate with the press now that you are near the goal discretion is essential Boutroulay absolutely agreed he even went further to two journalists who were writing him that morning he gave the most fanciful particulars as to his plans and his state of mind in the afternoon he hurried round to see Massibon who lived at 17 K. Voltaire to his great surprise Massibon had gone out of town unexpectedly leaving a note for him in case he should call Isidore opened it in red I have received the telegram which gives me some hope so I am leaving town and shall sleep at Rennes you might take the evening train and without stopping at Rennes go on to the little station of Villene we would meet at the castle which is two miles and a half from the station the programme appealed to Boutroulay the idea that he would reach the castle at almost the same time as Massibon for he feared some blunder on the part of that inexperienced man he went back to his friend and spent the rest of the day with him in the evening he took the Brittany Express and got out at Villene at six o'clock in the morning he did the two and a half miles between Butti Woods on foot he could see the castle perched on a height from a distance to the extra of the Renaissance and Louis-Philippe styles but it bore a stately air nevertheless with its four turrets and its ivy mantel to draw bridge Isidore felt his heart beat as he approached was he really nearing the end of his race did the castle contain the key to the mystery he was not without fear it all seemed too good to be true and he asked himself if he was not once more acting in obedience to some infernal plan contrived by Lupin if Massimo was not for instance a tool in the hands of his enemy he burst out laughing tut tut it's becoming absurd one would really think that Lupin was an infallible person who foresees everything a sort of divine omnipotence against whom nothing can prevail dash it all Lupin makes his mistakes Lupin too is at the mercy of circumstances Lupin has an occasional slip and it is just because of his slip in losing the document that I am beginning to have the advantage of him everything starts from that and his efforts when all is said serve only to repair the first blunder and blithely full of confidence but really rang the bell yes sir set the servant to open the door can I see the Baron de Villin and he gave the man his card Monsieur le Baron is not up yet but if Monsieur will wait has not someone else been asking for him a gentleman with a white beard and a slight stoop asked Poutrelle who knew Massimo's appearance from the photographs and the newspapers yes the gentleman came about ten minutes ago I showed him into the drawing room if Monsieur will come this way the interview between Massimo and Poutrelle was of the most cordial character Isidore thanked the old man for his first rate information which he owed to him and Massimo expressed his admiration for Poutrelle in the warmest terms then they exchanged impressions on the document on their prospects of discovering the book and Massimo repeated what he had heard at Rennes regarding Monsieur de Villin the Baron was a man of sixty who had been left a widow many years ago and who led a very retired life with his daughter Gabrielle de Villemont this lady had just suffered a cruel blow for the loss of her husband and her eldest son both of whom had died as the result of a motor car accident Monsieur le Baron begs the gentleman to be good enough to come upstairs the servant led the way to the first floor to a large bare walled room and tables covered with papers and account books the Baron received them very affably and with a volubility often displayed by people who lived too much alone they had great difficulty in explaining the object of their visit oh yes I know you wrote to me about it Monsieur Massimo it has something to do with a book about a needle, hasn't it a book which is supposed to have come down to me from my ancestors I may as well tell you that my ancestors and I have fallen out they had funny ideas in those days I belong to my own time I have broken with the past yes said Boutrelle impatiently but have you no recollection of having seen the book certainly I said so in my telegram he exclaimed addressing Monsieur Massimo who in his annoyance was walking up and down the room with all windows certainly or at least my daughter thought she had seen the title among the thousands of books that lumber in the library upstairs for I don't care about reading myself I don't even read the papers my daughter does sometimes but only when there is nothing the matter with George her remaining son as for me as long as my tenants pay their rents and my leases are kept up even them gentlemen and I confess that I know absolutely nothing whatever about the story of which he wrote to me in your letter Monsieur Massimo Isidore Boutrelle nerve shattered all this talk interrupted him bluntly I beg you pardon Monsieur but the book my daughter has looked for it she looked for it all day yesterday well well she found it a few hours ago when you arrived and where is it where is it why she put it on that table there it is over there Isidore gave a bound at one end of the table on a muddled heap of papers lay a little book bound in red Morocco he banged his fist down upon it as though he were forbidding anybody to touch it and also a little as though he himself well cried Massimo greatly excited I have it here it is we're there at last but the title are you sure why of course look are you convinced have we mastered the secret at last the front page what does the front page say read first exhibited 100 copies printed by myself for the instruction of the court that's it that's it Mata Massimo in a horse voice it's the copy snatched from the flames it's the very book which Louis XIV condemned they turned over the pages the first part set forth the explanations given by Captain de l'Arbari in his journal said Boutrelle who was in a hurry to come to the solution get on what do you mean not at all we knew that the man with the iron mask was imprisoned because he knew and wished to divulge the secret of the Royal House of France but how did he know it and why did he wish to divulge it lastly who was that strange personage a half brother of Louis XIV as Voltaire maintained the Italian minister as the modern critics declare hang it those are questions of the very first interest later later protested Boutrelle feverishly turning the pages as though he feared that the book would fly out of his hands before he had solved the riddle but said Massimo who doted on historical details we have plenty of time afterward let's see the explanation first suddenly Boutrelle stopped the document in the middle of a left-hand page his eyes saw the five mysterious lines of dots and figures he made sure with a glance that the text was identical with that which he had studied so long the same arrangement of the signs the same intervals that permitted of the isolation of the word demoiselle and the separation of the two words eggy and crose a short note preceded it all the necessary indications it appears were reduced by King Louis XIII on a little table which I transcribe below here followed the table of dots and figures then came the explanation of the document itself Boutrelle read in a broken voice as will be seen this table even after we have changed the figures into vowels affords no light one might say that in order to decipher the puzzle we must first know it it is at most a clue given to those who know the paths of the labyrinths let us take this clue and proceed I will guide you the fourth line first the fourth line contains measurements and indications by complying with the indications and noting the measurements when we are set down we inevitably attain our object on condition be it understood that we know where we are and whether we are going in a word that we are enlightened as to the real meaning of the hollow needle this is what we may learn from the first three lines the first is so conceived to revenge myself on the king I had warned him for that matter Boutrelle stopped non-plused said Massibon the words don't make sense no more they do replied Massibon the first is so conceived to revenge myself on the king what can that mean damn he yelled Boutrelle well torn two pages the next two pages look at the marks he trembled shaking with rage and disappointment Massibon bent forward it is true there are the ends of two pages left like bookbinders guards the marks seem pretty fresh they've not been cut but torn out torn out with violence look all the pages at the end of the book have been rumpled but who can have done it who moaned his idore ringing his hands a servant an accomplice all the same it may date back to a few months since observed Massibon even so even so someone must have hunted out and taken the book tell me Monsieur cried Boutrelle addressing the Baron is there no one whom you suspect we might ask my daughter yes yes that's it perhaps she will know Monsieur de Vellin rang for the footman a few minutes later Madame de Villemont entered she was a young woman with a sad and resigned face Boutrelle at once asked her he found this volume upstairs Madame in the library yes in a parcel of books that had not been uncorded and he read it yes last night when he read it were those two pages missing try and remember the two pages following this table of figures and dots no certainly not she said greatly astonished there was no page missing at all still somebody has torn but the book did not leave my room last night and this morning this morning I brought it down here myself when Monsieur Massibon's arrival was announced then well I then understand unless but no what? Georges my son this morning Georges was playing with the book she ran out headlong accompanied by Boutrelle Massibon and the Baron the child was not in his room they hunted in every direction at last they found him playing behind the castle but those three people seemed so excited and called him so parameterally to account to yell aloud everybody ran about to right and left the servants were questioned it was an indescribable tumult and Boutrelle received an awful impression that the truth was ebbing away from him like water trickling through his fingers he made an effort to recover himself took Madame de Villemore's arm unfollowed by the Baron Massibon led her back to the drawing room and said the book is incomplete very well there are two pages torn out but you read them did you not Madame? yes you know what they contained? yes could you repeat it to us? certainly I read the book with a great deal of curiosity but those two pages struck me in particular because the revelations were so very interesting well then speak Madame speak I implore you those revelations are of exceptional importance speak I beg of you mean it's lost or never recovered the hollow needle oh it's quite simple the hollow needle means at that moment a footman entered the room a letter for Madame oh but the postman has passed a boy brought it Madame de Villemore opened the letter read it and put her hand to her heart turning suddenly livid and terrified ready to faint the paper had slipped to the floor Portrelli picked it up and without troubling to apologize read not a word if you say a word your son will never wake again my son my son she stammered too weak even to go to the assistance of the threatened child Portrelli he assured her it is not serious it's a joke come who could be interested unless suggested ma si bon it was Arsène Lupin Portrelli made him a sign to hold his tongue he knew quite well of course that the enemy was there once more watchful and determined and that was just why he wanted to tear from Madame de Villemore the decisive words so long awaited and to tear them from her on the spot that very moment I beseech you Madame compose yourself we are all here there is not the least danger would she speak he thought so he hoped so she stammered out a few syllables but the door opened again this time the nurse entered she seemed distraught Monsieur Georges Madame Monsieur Georges Georges suddenly the mother recovered all her strength quicker than any of them and urged by an unfailing instinct she rushed down the staircase across the hall and onto the terrace there lay little Georges motionless on a wicked chair well what is it he's asleep he fell asleep suddenly Madame said the nurse I tried to prevent him to carry him to his room but he was fast asleep and his hands his hands were cold cold gasped the mother yes it's true oh dear oh dear if he only wakes up Portrelli put his hand in his trousers pocket seized the butt of his revolver coxied with his forefinger then suddenly produced the weapon and fired at Massibon Massibon as though he were watching the boy's movements had avoided the shot so to speak in advance but already Portrelli had sprung upon him shouting to the servants help it's Lupin Massibon under the weight of the impact fell back into one of the wicked chairs in a few seconds he rose leaving Portrelli stunned choking and holding the young man's revolver in his hands good that's all right don't stare you'll be like that three minutes no more but upon my word you took your time to recognize me was my makeup as old Massibon so good as all that he was now standing straight up on his legs his body squared in a formidable attitude and he grinned as he looked at the three petrified footmen and the damp-founded Baron easy door you've missed the chance of a lifetime if you hadn't told them I was Lupin they'd have jumped on me and with fellows like that what would have become of me by Jove with four to one against me he walked up to them come my lads don't be afraid I shan't hurt you wouldn't you like a sugar stick a piece to screw your courage up oh you by the way hand me back my hundred four note will you yes yes I know you you're the one I bribed just now to give the letter to your mistress come hurry you faithless servant he took the blue bank note which the servant handed him and tore it into tiny shreds the price of treachery it burns my fingers he took off his hat and bowing very low before madame de Vimo will you forgive me madame the accidents of life of mine especially often drive one to acts of cruelty for which I am the first to blush but have no fear for your son it's a mere prick a little puncture in the arm which I gave him while we were questioning him in an hour at the most you won't know that it happened once more all my apologies but I had to make sure of your silence he bowed again thanked monsieur de Villeen for his kind hospitality took his cane litter cigarette offered one to the baron gave a circular sweep with his hat and in a patronising tone said to Boutrelle goodbye baby and he walked away quietly puffing the smoke of his cigarette into the servant's faces Boutrelle waited for a few minutes madame de Villeen now calmer was watching by her son he went up to her with the intention of making one last appeal to her their eyes met he said nothing he had understood that she would never speak now whatever happened there once more in that mother's brain the secret of the hollow needle lay buried as deeply as in the night of the past then he gave up and went away it was half past ten there was a train at eleven fifty he slowly followed the avenue in the park and turned into the road that led to the station well what do you say to that it was ma cibon or rather Lupin who appeared out of the wood adjoining the road was it pretty well contrived or was it not is your old friend great on the tightrope or is he not I'm sure that you haven't got over a day and that you're asking yourself whether the so-called ma cibon member of the academy of inscriptions and belle lettre ever existed but of course he exists I'll even show him to you if you're good but first let me give you back your revolver you're looking to see if it's loaded certainly my lad there are five charges left one of which would be enough to send me ad patres well so you are putting it into your pocket right right I prefer that to what you did up there a nasty little impulse that of yours still you're young you suddenly see in a flash that you've once more been done by that confounded lupin and that he is standing there in front of you at three steps from you and bang you fire I'm not angry with you bless your little heart to prove it I offer you a seat in my 100 HP car will that suit you he put his fingers to his mouth and whistled the contrast was delicious between the venerable appearance of this elderly ma cibon and the schoolboy weighs an accent which lupin was putting on Portrelli could not help laughing he's laughed he's laughed cried lupin jumping for joy you see baby what you fall short in is the power of smiling you're a trifle serious for your age you're a very likeable boy you have a charming candour and simplicity but you have no sense of humour he placed himself in front of him look here bet you I make you cry do you know how I was able to follow up all your enquiry how I knew of the letter ma cibon wrote you and his appointments to meet you this morning at the Chateau de Villain through the prattle of your friend the one you're staying with you confide in that idiot and he loses no time but goes and tells everything to his best girl and his best girl has no secrets for lupin what did I tell you I've made you feel anyhow your eyes are quite wet friendship betrayed that upsets you eh upon my word you're wonderful I could take you in my arms and hug you you always wear that look of astonishment which goes straight to my heart I shall never forget the other evening at Gaillon when he consulted me yes I was the old notary but why don't you laugh youngster as I said you have no sense of a joke look here what you want is what shall I call it imagination imaginative impulse now I'm full of imaginative impulse a motor was heard panting not far off lupin sees butrelier roughly by the arm and in a cold voice looking him straight in the eyes you're going to keep quiet now aren't you you can see there's nothing to be done then what's the use of wasting your time and energy there are plenty of highway robbers in the world run after them and let me be if not it's settled isn't it he shook him as though to enforce his will upon him then he grinned fool that I am you leave me alone you're not one of those who let go oh I don't know what restrains me in half a dozen turns of the rest I could have you bound and gagged and in two hours safe under lock and key for some months to come and then I could twist my thumbs in all security withdraw to the peaceful retreat prepared for me by my ancestors the kings of France and enjoy the treasures which they have been good enough to accumulate for me but no it is doomed that I must go blundering to the end I can't help it we all have our weaknesses and I have one for you besides it's not done yet from now until you put your fingers into the hollow of the needle a good deal of water will flow under the bridges dash it all it took me ten days me, Lupin you will want ten years at least there's that much distance between us after all the motor arrived an immense closed car Lupin opened the door and Boutrelle gave a cry there was a man inside and that man was Lupin or rather Massubon suddenly understanding he burst out laughing Lupin said don't be afraid he's sound asleep I promise that you should see him do you grasp the situation now? at midnight I knew of your appointment at the castle at seven in the morning I was there when Massubon passed I had only to collect him give him a tiny prick with a needle and the thing was done sleep old chap sleep away we'll set you down on the slope that's it there capital right in the sun then you won't catch cold good and your hat in your hand spare a copper kind gentlemen oh my dear old Massubon so you were after our son Lupin it was really a huge joke to see the two Massubons face to face one asleep with his head on his chest the other seriously occupied in paying him every sort of attention and respect pity a poor blind man there Massubon there's two sous at my visiting card and now my lads off we go at the fourth speed do you hear driver you've got to do the 75 miles in an hour jump in Isidore there's a full sitting of the institute today and Massubon is to read a little paper on I don't know what at half past three well he'll read them his little paper I'll dish them up a complete Massubon more real than the real one with my own ideas on the lacustrine inscription I don't have an opportunity of lecturing at the institute every day faster chauffeur we're only doing 71 and a half are you afraid remember you with Lupin Ah Isidore and then people say that life is monotonous why life's an adorable thing my boy only one has to skin for joy just now at the castle when you were chattering with old Villene and I up against the window was tearing out the pages of the historic book and then when you were questioning the damn de Villemont about the hollow needle would she speak yes she would no she wouldn't yes no it gave me goose flesh I assure you if she spoke I should have to build up my life anew the whole scaffolding was destroyed would the footman come in time yes no there he is but but really will unmask me never he's too much of a flat yes though no there he's done it no he hasn't yes he's eyeing me that's it he's feeling for his revolver oh the delight of it Isidore you're talking too much you'll hurt yourself let's have a snooze shall we I'm dying of sleep good night but really looked at him he seemed almost asleep already he slept the motor car darting through space rushed toward the horizon that was constantly reached and has constantly retreated there was no impression of towns villages fields or forests simply space space devoured swallowed up but really looked at his traveling companion for a long time with eager curiosity and also with a keen wish to fathom his real character through the mask that covered it and he thought of the circumstances that confined them like that together in the close contact of that motor car but after the excitement and disappointment of the morning tired in his turn he too fell asleep when he woke Lupin was reading and over to see the title of the book it was the epistolary Sicilian of Seneca the philosopher end of chapter 7 read by Gesina in March 2007