 CHAPTER I OF THE BLOND LADY This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Lény. The blonde lady being a record of the Jewel of Whits between Arsène Lupin and the English detective by Maurice Leblanc. Translated by Alexandre Teixeira-Gematouche. First Episode. The Blonde Lady. Chapter I. Number 514, Series 23. On the 18th of December last, M. Girbois, professor of mathematics at Versailles College, rummaging among the stores at a second-hand dealers, discovered a small mahogany writing desk which took his fancy because of its many drawers. That's just what I want for Suzan's birthday, he thought. M. Girbois's means were limited, and, anxious as he was to please his daughter, he felt it his duty to beat the dealer down. He ended by paying 65 francs. As he was writing down his address, a well-groomed and well-dressed young man who had been hunting through the shop in every direction caught sight of the writing desk and asked, How much for this? It's sold, replied the dealer. Oh, to this gentleman? M. Girbois bowed, and, feeling all the happier that one of his fellow men envied him his purchase, left the shop. But he had not taken ten steps in the street before the young man caught him up and, raising his head, said very politely, I beg a thousand pardon, sir. I am going to ask you an indiscreet question. Were you looking for this desk, rather than anything else? No, I went to the shop to see if I could find a cheap set of scales for my experiments. Therefore, you do not want it very particularly. I want it, that's all. Because it's old, I suppose? Because it's useful. In that case, would you mind exchanging it for another desk, quite as useful, but in better condition? This one is in good condition, and I see no point in exchanging it. Still, M. Girbois was a man easily irritated and quick to take offense. He replied curtly, I must ask you to drop the subject, sir. The young man placed himself in front of him. I don't know how much you paid, sir, but I offer you double the price. No, thank you. Three times the price. Oh, that will do, exclaimed the professor impatiently. The desk belongs to me, and it's not for sale. The young man stared at him with a look that remained imprinted on M. Girbois' memory, then turned on his heel without a word and walked away. An hour later, the desk was brought to the little house on the V. Hofle road where the professor lived. He called his daughter. This is for you, Suzan, that is, if you like it. Suzan was a pretty creature of a demonstrative temperament and easily pleased. She threw her arms around her father's neck and kissed him as rapturously as though he had made her a present fit for a queen. That evening, assisted by Hortense, the maid, she carried up the desk to her room, cleaned out the drawers, and neatly put away her papers, her stationery, her correspondence, her picture postcards, and a few secret souvenirs of her cousin, Philippe. M. Girbois went to the college at half past seven the next morning. At ten o'clock, Suzan, according to her daily custom, went to meet him at the exit, and it was a great pleasure to him to see her graceful, smiling figure waiting on the pavement opposite the gate. They walked home together. And how'd you like the desk? Oh, it's lovely. Hortense and I have polished up the brass handles till they shine like gold. So you're pleased with it? I should think so. I don't know how I did without it all this time. They walked up the front garden. The professor said, Let's go and look at it before lunch. Yes, that's a good idea. She went up the stairs first. But on reaching the door of her room, she gave a cry of dismay. What's the matter? exclaimed M. Girbois. He followed her into the room. The writing desk was gone. What astonished the police was the wonderful simplicity of the means employed. While Suzan was out and the maid making her purchases for the day, a ticket-porter wearing his badge had stopped his cart before the garden, inside of the neighbors, and rung the bell twice. The neighbors, not knowing that the servant had left the house, suspected nothing, so that the man was able to effect his object absolutely undisturbed. This fact must be noted. Not a cupboard had been broken open, not so much as a clock displaced. Even Suzan's purse, which she had left on the marble slab of the desk, was found on the adjacent table with the gold which it contained. The object of the theft was clearly determined, therefore, and this made it the more difficult to understand. For, after all, why should a man run so great a risk to secure so trivial a spoil? The only clue which the professor could supply was the incident of the day before. From the first, that young man displayed a keen annoyance at my refusal, and I have a positive impression that he left me under a threat. It was all very vague. The dealer was questioned. He knew nothing of the true gentleman. As for the desk, he had bought it for forty francs at Chevreuse, at the sale of a person deceased, and he considered that he had resulted at a fair price. A persistent inquiry revealed nothing further. But Monsieur Jehois remained convinced that he had suffered an enormous loss. A fortune must have been concealed in some secret drawer, and that was why the young man, knowing of the hiding place, had acted with such decision. Poor father, what should we have done with the fortune? Susan kept saying, What? What? With that for your dowry, you could have made the finest match going. Susan aimed at no one higher than her cousin, Philip, who had not a penny to bless himself with, and she gave a bitter side. And life in the little house at Versailles went on gaily, less carelessly than before, shadowed over as it now was with regret and disappointment. Two months elapsed, and suddenly one after the other came a sequence of the most serious events, forming a surprising run of alternate luck and misfortune. On the first of February at half past five, Monsieur Jehois, who had just come home with an evening paper in his hand, sat down, put on his spectacles, and began to read. The political news was uninteresting. He turned the page, and a paragraph at once caught his eye, headed, third drawing of the press association lottery, first prize, one million francs, number 514, series 23. The paper dropped from his hands. The walls swam before his eyes, and his heart stopped beating. Number 514, series 23, was the number of his ticket. He had bought it by accident to oblige one of his friends, for he did not believe in luck, and now he had won. He took out his memorandum book quick. He was quite right. Number 514, series 23, was jotted down on the flyleaf. But where was the ticket? He flew to his study to fetch the box of stationery in which he had put the precious ticket away, and he stopped short as he entered and staggered back with a pain at his heart. The box was not there, and, what an awful thing, he suddenly realized that the box had not been there for weeks. Susan! Susan! She had just come in and ran up the stairs hurriedly. He stammered in a choking voice. Susan, the box, the box of stationery. Which one? The one I bought at Louvre on a Thursday. It used to stand at the end of the table. But don't you remember, Father? We put it away together. When? That evening, you know, the day before. But where? Quick, tell me! It's more than I can bear. Where? In the writing desk. In the desk that was stolen? Yes, in the desk that was stolen. He repeated the words in a whisper with a sort of terror. Then he took her hand and lowered still. He contained a million, Susan. Oh, Father, why didn't you tell me? She murmured innocently. A million, he repeated. It was the winning number in the press lottery. The hugeness of the disaster crushed them. And, for a long time, they maintained a silence which they had not the courage to break. At last, Susan said, But, Father, they will pay you all the same. Why? On what evidence? Does it require evidence? Of course. And have you none? Yes, I have. Well, it was in the box. In the box that has disappeared? Yes. And the other man will get the money. Why, that would be outrageous! Surely, Father, you can stop the payment? Who knows, who knows? That man must be extraordinarily clever. He has such wonderful resources. Remember, think how he got hold of the desk. His energy revived. He sprang up and stamped his foot on the floor. No, no, no, he shouted. He shunned half that million, he shunned. Why should he? After all, sharp as he may be, he can do nothing either. If he calls for the money, they'll lock him up. Ha, we shall see, my friend. Have you thought of something, Father? I shall defend our rights to the bitter end, come what may. And we shall succeed. The million belongs to me, and I mean to have it. A few minutes later, he dispatched this telegram. Governor, Crédit Francier, Rue Capucine, Paris. M. Honor, No. 514, Series 23. Opposed by every legal method, payment to any other person. Gérbois. At almost the same time, the Crédit Francier received another telegram. No. 514, Series 23, is in my possession. Arsène Lupin. Whenever I sit down to tell one of the numberless adventures which compose the life of Arsène Lupin, I feel a genuine embarrassment, because it is quite clear to me that even the least important of these adventures is known to every one of my readers. As a matter of fact, there is not a move on the part of our national thief, as he had been happily called, but has been described all over the country, not an exploit but has been studied from every point of view, not an action but has been commented upon with an abundance of detail, generally reserved for stories of heroic deeds. Who, for instance, does not know that strange case of the blonde lady with the curious episodes which were reported under flaring headlines as No. 514, Series 23, the murder in the avenue Henri Martin, and The Blue Diamond? What an excitement there was about the intervention of Holmlock Shears, the famous English detective. What an effervescence surrounded the varying fortunes that marked the struggle between those two great artists. And what a din along the boulevard on the day when the news boy shouted, Arrest of Arsène Lupin! My excuse is that I can supply something new. I can furnish the key to the puzzle. There's always a certain mystery about these adventures. I can dispel it. I reprint articles that have been read over and over again. I copy out old interviews, but all these things I rearrange and classify and put to the exact test of truth. My collaborator in this work is Arsène Lupin himself, whose kindness to me is inexhaustible. I am also under an occasional obligation to the unspeakable Wilson, the friend and confidant of Holmlock Shears. My readers will remember the Homeric laughter that greeted the publication of the two telegrams. The name of Arsène Lupin alone was a guarantee of originality, a promise of amusement for the gallery, and the gallery, in this case, was the whole world. An inquiry was immediately set on foot by the Crédit Francier and it was ascertained that number 514, series 23, had been sold by the Versailles branch of the Crédit Lyonnais to Major Bressy of the artillery. Now, the Major had died of a fall from his horse and it appeared that he told his brother officers some time before his death that he had been obliged to part with his ticket to a friend. That friend was myself, declared Monsieur Gérbois. Prove it, objected the governor of the Crédit Francier. Prove it, that's quite easy. Twenty people will tell you that I kept up constant relations with the Major and that we used to meet at the café on the Place d'Armes. It was there that, one day, to oblige him in a moment of financial embarrassment, I took his ticket off him and gave him twenty francs for it. Have you any witnesses to the transaction? No. Then, upon what do you base your claim? Upon the letter which he wrote me on the subject. What letter? A letter pinned to the ticket. Produce it. But it was in the stolen writing desk. Find it. The letter was communicated to the press by Arsène Lupin. A paragraph inserted in the École des France which has the honor of being his official organ and in which he seems to be one of the principal shareholders announced that he was placing in the hands of Maître de Tina, his counsel, the letter which Major Brassie had written to him, Lupin, personally. There was a burst of delight. Arsène Lupin was represented by counsel. Arsène Lupin, respecting established customs, had appointed a member of the bar to act for him. The reporters rushed to interview Maître de Tina, an influential radical deputy, a man endowed with the highest integrity and the mind of uncommon shrewdness, which was, at the same time, somewhat skeptical and given to paradox. Maître de Tina was exceedingly sorry to say that he had never had the pleasure of meeting Arsène Lupin, but he had, in point of fact, received his instructions, keenly alive to the honors shown him and determined to defend his client's rights to the utmost. He opened his brief and, without hesitation, showed the Major's letter. It proved a sale to ticket, but did not mention the purchasers' name. It began, My dear friend, simply. My dear friend means me, added Arsène Lupin, in a note enclosing the Major's letter and the best proof is that I have the letter. The bevy of reporters at once flew off to Monsieur Gérbois, who could do nothing but repeat. My dear friend is no one but myself. Arsène Lupin stole the Major's letter with the lottery ticket. Tell him to prove it, was Lupin's rejoinder to the journalists. But he stole the desk, exclaimed Monsieur Gérbois in front of the same journalists. Tell him to prove it, supported Lupin once again. And a delightful entertainment was provided for the public by this duel between the two owners of number 514, series 23, by the constant coming and going of the journalists and by the coolness of Arsène Lupin as opposed to the frenzy of poor Monsieur Gérbois. Un happy man. The press was full of his lamentations. He confessed the full extent of his misfortunes in a touchingly ingenuous way. It's Suzanne's dowry, gentlemen, that the villain has stolen. For myself, personally, I don't care. But for Suzanne, just think, a million. Ten hundred thousand francs. Huh, I always said the desk contained the treasure. He was told in vain that his adversary, when taking away the desk, knew nothing of the existence of the lottery ticket. And that, in any case, no one could have foreseen that this particular ticket would win the first prize. All he did was to moan. Don't talk to me. Of course he knew. If not, why should he have taken the trouble to steal that wretched desk? For unknown reasons, but certainly not to get hold of a scrap of paper, which, at that time, was worth the modest sum of twenty francs. The sum of a million. He knew it. He knows everything. But you don't know the sort of a man he is, the ruffian. He hasn't defrauded you of a million, you see. The stock could have gone on a long time yet. But twelve days later, Monsieur Gérbois received a letter from Arsène Lupin, marked private and confidential, which worried him not a little. Dear sir, the gallery is amusing itself at our expense. Do you not think that the time has come to be serious? I, for my part, have quite made up my mind. The position is clear. I hold a ticket, which I am not entitled to cash. And you are entitled to cash a ticket, which you do not hold. Therefore, neither of us can do anything without the other. Now, you would not consent to surrender your rights to me, nor I to give up my ticket to you. What are we to do? I see only one way out of the difficulty. Let us divide. Half a million for you, half a million for me. It's not that fair. And would not this judgment of Solomon satisfy the sense of justice in each of us? I propose this as an equitable solution, but also an immediate solution. It is not an offer which you have time to discuss, but a necessity before which circumstances compel you to bow. I give you three days for reflection. I hope that, on Friday morning, you may have the pleasure of seeing a discreet advertisement in the agony column of the École de France addressed to M. R. Sloup, and containing in veiled terms your unreserved ascend to the compact which I am suggesting to you. In that event, you will at once recover possession of the ticket and receive the million, on the understanding that you will hand me 500,000 francs in a way which I will indicate hereafter. Should you refuse, I have taken measures that will produce exactly the same result. But apart from the very serious trouble which your obstinacy would bring upon you, you will be the poorer by 25,000 francs, which I should have to deduct for additional expenses. I am, dear sir, very respectfully yours, Arsène Lupin. M. Gervois and his exasperation was guilty of the colossal blunder of showing this letter and allowing it to be copied. His indignation drove him to every sort of folly. Not a penny! He shall not have a penny! he shouted before the assembled reporters. Share what belongs to me? Never! Let him tear up his ticket if he likes. Still, half a million francs is better than nothing. It's not a question of that, but of my rights and those rights I shall establish in a court of law. Go to law with Arsène Lupin? That would be funny. No, with the credit foncier. They are bound to hand me the million. Against the ticket or at least against evidence that you bought it? The evidence exists, seeing that Arsène Lupin admits that he stole the desk. What judge is going to take Arsène Lupin's word? I don't care. I shall go to law. The gallery was delighted. Bats were made. Some people being certain that Lupin would bring Monsieur Gervois to terms. Others that he would not go beyond threats. And the people felt a sort of apprehension. For the adversaries were unevenly matched, the one being so fierce in his attacks, while the other was as frightened as a hunted deer. On Friday there was a rush for the Echo de France, and the agony column on the fifth page was scanned with feverish eyes. There was not a line addressed to M. R.'s loop. Monsieur Gervois had replied to Arsène Lupin's demands with silence. It was a declaration of war. That evening the papers contained the news that Mademoiselle Gervois had been kidnapped. The most delightful factor in what I may call the Arsène Lupin Entertainment is the eminently ludicrous part played by the police. Everything passes outside their knowledge. Lupin speaks, writes, warns, orders, threatens, carries out his plans, as though there were no police, no detectives, no magistrates, no impediment of any kind in existence. They seem of no account to him, whatever. No obstacle enters into his calculations. And yet the police struggle to do their best. The moment the name of Arsène Lupin is mentioned, the whole force from top to bottom takes fire, boils and foams with rage. He is the enemy. The enemy who mocks you, provokes you, despises you, or even worse, ignores you. And what can one do against an enemy like that? According to the evidence of the servant, Suzan went out at twenty minutes to ten. At five minutes past ten her father, on leaving the college, failed to see her on the pavement, where she usually waited for him. Everything, therefore, must have taken place in the course of the short twenty minutes' walk, which brought Suzan from her door to the college, or at least quite close to the college. Two neighbors declared that they had passed her about three hundred yards from the house. A lady had seen a girl walking along the avenue whose description corresponded with Suzan's. After that all was blank. Anchories were made on every side. The officials at the railway stations and the customs-bearers were questioned. They had seen nothing on that day which could relate to the kidnapping of a young girl. However, a grocer at Ville-Davret stated that he had supplied a closed motor-car coming from Paris with petrol. There was a chauffeur on the front seat, and a lady with fair hair. Exceedingly fair hair, the witness said, inside. The car returned from Versailles an hour later. A block in the traffic compelled it to slacken speed, and the grocer was able to perceive that there was now another lady seated beside the blonde lady whom he had seen first. The second lady was wrapped up in veils and shawls. No doubt it was Suzan Gérbois. Consequently the abduction must have taken place in broad daylight on a busy road in the very heart of the town. How? At what spot? Not a cry had been heard, not a suspicious movement observed. The grocer described the car, a Peugeot limousine, twenty-four horsepower, with a dark blue body. Inquiries were made on chance of Madame Bob Walthur, the manageress of the Grand Garage, who used to make a specialty of motor-car elopements. She had, in fact, on Friday morning, hired out a Peugeot limousine for the day to a fair-haired lady whom she had not seen since. But the driver? He was a man called Ernest, whom I engaged the day before on the strength of his excellent testimonials. Is he here? No, he brought back the car and has not been here since. Can't we get hold of him? Certainly, by applying to the people who recommended him I will give you the addresses. The police called on these persons. None of them knew the man called Ernest. And every trail which they followed to find their way out of the darkness led only to greater darkness and denser fogs. Monsieur Gervois was not the man to maintain a contest which had opened in so disastrous a fashion for him. Inconsolable at the disappearance of his daughter and tricked with remorse, he capitulated, an advertisement which appeared in the École de France and aroused general comment proclaimed his absolute and unreserved surrender. It was a complete defeat. The war was over in four times twenty-four hours. Two days later, Monsieur Gervois walked across the courtyard of the crédit foncier. He was shown in to the governor and handed him number 514, series 23. The governor gave a start. Oh, so you have it? Did they give it back to you? Well, that's all I have to say. Monsieur Gervois replied. But you said there was a question. That's all lies and tittle-tattle. But nevertheless we should require some corroborative document. Will the major's letter do? Certainly. Here it is. Very well. Please leave these papers with us. We are allowed a fortnight in which to verify them. I will let you know when you can call for the money. Well, I think that you would be well advised to say nothing. It's a complete disbusiness in the most absolute silence. That is what I intend to do. Monsieur Gervois did not speak, nor the governor either. But there are certain secrets which leak out without any indiscretion having been committed, and the public suddenly learned that Arsène Lupin had had the pluck to send number 514, series 23, back to Monsieur Gervois. The news was received with a sort of stupefied admiration. What a bold player he must be to fling so important a trump as the precious ticket upon the table. True, he had parted with it wittingly in exchange for a card which equalized the chances. But suppose the girl escaped. Suppose they succeeded in recapturing his hostage. The police perceived the enemy's weak point and redoubled their efforts. With Arsène Lupin disarmed and despoiled by himself, caught in his own toils, receiving not a single sue of the coveted million, the laugh would at once be on the other side. But the question was to find Suzanne, and they did not find her, nor did she escape. Very well, people said, that settled. Arsène has won the first game, but the difficult part is still to come. Mademoisel Gervois is in his hands, we admit, and he will not hand her over without the 500,000 francs. But how and where is the exchange to take place? For the exchange to take place, there must be a meeting. And what is to prevent Monsieur Gervois from informing the police, and thus both recovering his daughter and keeping the money? The professor was interviewed. Greatly cast down, longing only for silence, he remained impenetrable. I have nothing to say, I am waiting. And Mademoisel Gervois, the search is being continued. But Arsène Lupin has written to you. No. Do you swear that? No. That means yes. What are his instructions? I have nothing to say. Maître Dutinin was next besieged, and showed the same discretion. Monsieur Lupin is my client, he replied with an affectation of gravity. You will understand that I am bound to maintain the most absolute reserve. All these mysteries annoyed the gallery. Plots were evidently hatching in the dark. Arsène Lupin was arranging and tightening the meshes of his nets, while the police were keeping up a watch by day and night round Monsieur Gervois. And people discussed the only three possible endings. Arrest, triumph, or grotesque and pitiful failure. But, as it happened, public curiosity was destined to be only partially satisfied, and the exact truth is revealed for the first time in these pages. On Thursday, the 12th of March, Monsieur Gervois received a notice from the crédit foncier in an ordinary envelope. At one o'clock on Friday he took the train for Paris. A thousand notes of a thousand francs each were handed to him at two. While he was counting them over, one by one, with trembling hands, for was this money not Suzan's ransom, two men sat talking in a cab drawn up at a short distance from the main entrance. One of these men had grizzled hair in a powerful face, which contrasted oddly with his dress and bearing, which was that of a small clerk. It was Chief Inspector Ghanimah, old Ghanimah, Lupin's implacable enemy. And Ghanimah said to Detective Sergeant Foulonfan, The old chap won't be long. We shall see him come out in five minutes. Is everything ready? Quite. How many are we? Eight, including two on bicycles. And myself, who count as three. It's enough, but not too many. That Gervois must not escape us at any price. If he does, we're duddled. He'll meet Lupin at the place they have agreed upon. We'll swap the young lady for the half-million, and the tricks done. But why on earth won't the old chap act with us? It would be so simple. By giving us a hand in the game, he could keep the whole million. Yes, but he's afraid. If he tries to jockey the other, he won't get his daughter back. What other? Him. Ghanimah pronounced this word, him, in a grave and rather ostrac tone, as though he were speaking of a supernatural being who had already played him a nasty trick or two. It's very strange, said Sergeant Folenfin judiciously, that we should be reduced to protecting that gentleman against himself. With Lupin, everything's upside down. Said Ghanimah. A minute elapsed. Look out, he said. Monsieur Gervois was leaving the bank. When he came to the end of the rue de Capucine, he turned down the boulevard, keeping to the left-hand side. He walked away slowly along the shops and looked into the windows. Our friends took quiet, said Ghanimah. A fellow with a million in his pocket does not keep so quiet as all that. What can he do? Ho, nothing, of course. No matter, I must trust him. It's Lupin, Lupin. At that moment, Monsieur Gervois went to a kiosk, bought some newspapers, took his change, unfolded one of the sheets, and with outstretched arms began to read, while walking on with short steps. And suddenly, with a bound, he jumped into a motor cab which was waiting beside the curb. The power must have been on for the car drove off rapidly, turned the cotter off the mud-lane, and disappeared. By Jupiter, cried Ghanimah, another of his inventions. He darted forward, and other men, at the same time as himself, ran round mud-lane. But he burst out, laughing. The motor-car had broken down at the beginning of the boulevard Malzerbe, and Monsieur Gervois was getting out. Quick, volenfin, the driver! Perhaps it's the man called Ernest. Volenfin tackled the chauffeur. It was a man called Gaston, one of the motor cab company's drivers. A gentleman had engaged him ten minutes before, and had told him to wait by the newspaper kiosk, with steam up, until another gentleman came. And what address did the second fare give? Asked volenfin. He gave me no address, boulevard Malzerbe, avenue de Messine, give you an extra tip. That's all he said. During this time, however, Monsieur Gervois, without losing a minute, had sprung into the first passing cab. Drive to the Concorde tube station. The professor left the tube, at the Place du Palais Royal, hurried into another cab, and drove to the Place de la Bourse. Here he went by tube again, as far as the Avenue des Villiers, where he took a third cab. 25 Rue Clapperon 25 Rue Clapperon is separated from the Boulevard de Batignolle by the house at the corner. The professor went up to the first floor in rank. A gentleman opened the door. Does Maître de Tinnin live here? I am Maître de Tinnin. Monsieur Gervois, I presume? That's it. I was expecting you. Pray, come in. When Monsieur Gervois entered the lawyer's office, striking three, and he at once said, This is the time he appointed. Isn't he here? Not yet. Monsieur Gervois sat down, wiped his forehead, looked at his watch as though he did not know the time, and continued anxiously. Will he come? The lawyer replied, You are asking me something, sir, which I myself am most curious to know. I have never felt so impatient in my life. In any case, if he comes, he is taking a big risk, for the house has been closely watched for the past fortnight. They suspect me. And me even more, said the professor. I am not at all sure that the detective said to watch me having thrown off my track. But then... It would not be my fault, cried the professor vehemently. And he can have nothing to reproach me with. What did I promise to do, to obey his orders? Well, I have obeyed his orders blindly. I cashed the ticket at the time which he fixed, and came on to you in the manner which he ordered. I am responsible for my daughter's misfortune, and I have kept my engagement in all good faith. It is for him to keep his." And he added, in an anxious voice, He will bring back my daughter, won't he? I hope so. Still, you've seen him? I? No. He simply wrote, asking me to receive you both, to send away my servants before three o'clock, and to let no one into my flat between the time of your arrival and his departure. If I did not consent to his proposal, he begged me to let him know by means of two lines in the École de France. But I am only too pleased to do Arsène Lupin as service, and I consent to everything. M. Gèrebois moined. Oh, dear, how will it all end? He took the banknotes from his pocket, spread them on the table, and divided them into two bundles of five hundred each. Then the two men sat silent. From time to time, M. Gèrebois pricked up his ears. Wasn't that a ring at the doorbell? His anguish increased with every minute that passed, and M. Dutinot also experienced an impression that was almost painful. For a moment, in fact, the advocate lost all his composure. He rose abruptly from his seat. We shall not see him. How can we expect to? It would be madness on his part. He trusts us, no doubt. We are honest men incapable of betraying him. But the danger lies elsewhere. And M. Gèrebois shattered with his hands on the notes stammered. If he would only come, oh, if he would only come, I would give all this to have Suzan back. The door opened. Have we'll do, M. Gèrebois? Someone was standing on the threshold. A young man, fashionably dressed. And M. Gèrebois at once recognized the person who had accosted him outside the curiosity shop. He leapt toward him. And Suzan, where's my daughter? Arsène Lupin closed the door carefully, and quietly unbuttoning his glove set to the lawyer. My dear maître, I can never thank you sufficiently for your kindness in consenting to defend my rights. I shall not forget it. Métrodytina could only murmur. But you never rang. I did not hear the door. Bells and doors are things that have to do their work without ever being heard. I am here all the same, and that is the great thing. My daughter, Suzan, what have you done with her? Repeated the professor. Heavens, sir, said Lupin, what a hurry you're in. Come, come yourself. Be in your arms in a moment. He walked up and down the room, and then, in the tone of a magnet, distributing praises, I congratulate you, Monsieur Gervois, on the skillful way in which you acted just now. If the mother hadn't had that ridiculous accident, we should simply have met at the étoile and saved Métrodytina the annoyance of this visit. However, it was destined otherwise. He caught sight of the two bundles of banknotes and cried, ah, that's right, the million is there. Let us waste no time. Will you allow me? But, said Métrodytina, placing himself in front of the table, Mademoiselle Gervois is not here yet. Well, well, isn't her presence indispensable? I see, I see. Arsène Lupin inspires only a partial confidence. He pockets his half million without restoring the hostage. Ha, my dear Métro, I am sadly misunderstood. Because fate has obliged me to perform acts of a rather special character. Doubts are cast upon my good faith. Mine. I am at all scruples and delicacy. However, my dear Métro, if you're afraid, open your window and call out. There are quite a dozen detectives in the street. Do you think so? Arsène Lupin raised the blind. I doubt if Monsieur Gervois is capable of throwing Ganymar off the sand. What did I tell you? There he is, the dear old chap. Impossible! cried the professor. I swear to you, though, that you have not betrayed me. I don't doubt it, but the fellows are clever. Look, there's Foul Enfant, and Gréhomme, and Josie, all my best pals, what? Métrodytina looked at him in surprise. What calmness! He was laughing with a happy laugh, as though he were amusing himself at some child's game with no danger threatening him. The scarlessness did even more than the sight of the detectives to reassure the lawyer. He moved away from the table on which the bank notes lay. Arsène Lupin took up the two bundles one after the other, counted twenty-five notes from each of them, and handing the lawyer the fifty bank notes does obtain said, Monsieur Gervois's share of your fee, my dear Métro, and Arsène Lupin's. We owe you that. You owe me nothing, said Métrodytina. What? After all the trouble we've given you. You forget the pleasure it has been to me to take that trouble. You mean to say, my dear Métro, that you refuse to accept anything from Arsène Lupin. That's the worst, he sighed, of having a bad reputation. He held out the fifty thousand francs to the professor. Monsieur, let me give you this in memory of our pleasant meeting. It will be my wedding present to Mademoiselle Gervois. Monsieur Gervois snatched at the notes, but protested. My daughter's not being married. She can't be married if you refuse your consent, but she's dying to be married. What do you know about it? I know that young ladies often cherish dreams without papa's consent. Fortunately there are good geniuses, called Arsène Lupin, who discovered the secret of those charming souls hidden away in their writing-desks. Did you discover nothing else? asked Métro de Tino. I confess that I am curious to know why that desk was the object of your attentions. Historical reasons, my dear Métro. Although, contrary to Monsieur Gervois's opinion, it contained no treasure beyond the lottery ticket, of which I did not know. I wanted it, and had been looking for it for some time. The desk, which is made of ewe and mahogany, decorated with a canthus-leaf capitals, was found in Marie Valesca's the secret little house at Boulogne-sur-Seine and has an inscription on one of the drawers, dedicated to Napoleon I, Emperor of the French, by his most faithful servant, Mansion. Underneath are these words carved with the point of a knife, thine, Marie. Napoleon had it copied afterward for the Empress Josephine, so that the writing desk, which people used to admire at the Malle Maison, in which they still admire at the Garde Meuble, is only an imperfect copy of the one which now forms part of my collection. Monsieur Gervois sighed. Oh, dear, if I had only known this at the shop, how willingly I would have let you have it. Arsène Lupin left. Yes, and you would besides have had the appreciable advantage of keeping the whole of number 514, series 23, for yourself. And you would not have thought of kidnapping my daughter, whom all this business would need to have upset. All what business? The abduction. But, my dear sir, you are quite mistaken. Mademoiselle Gervois was not abducted. My daughter was not abducted? Not at all. Kidnapping abduction implies violence. Now, Mademoiselle Gervois acted as a hostage of her own free will. Of her own free will, repeated the professor in confusion, and almost at her own request. Why, a quick-witted young lady like Mademoiselle Gervois, who, moreover, harbors a secret passion at the bottom of her heart, was hardly likely to refuse the opportunity of securing her dowry. Oh, I assure you, it was easy enough to make her understand that there was no other way of overcoming your resistance. Maître de Tina was greatly amused. He put in, You must have found a difficulty in coming to terms. I can't believe that Mademoiselle Gervois allowed you to speak to her. I didn't. I have not even the honor of knowing her. A lady of my acquaintance was good enough to undertake the negotiations. The blonde lady in the motor-car, I suppose, said Maître de Tina. Just so. Everything was settled at the first interview near the college. Since then, Mademoiselle Gervois and her new friend have been abroad, have visited Belgium and Holland in the most agreeable and instructive manner for a young girl. However, she will tell you everything herself. The hall door bell rang. Three rings in quick succession. Then a single ring, then another single ring. There she is, Saint-Loupin. My dear Maître, if you would not mind. The lawyer ran to open the door. Two young women entered. One of them flung herself into Monsieur Gervois's arms. The other went up to Loupin. She was tall and shapely, with a very pale face, and her fair hair, which glittered like gold, was parted in two loosely-waved bundles. Dressed in black, wearing no ornament beyond a five-fold jet necklace, she nevertheless struck a note of elegance and refinement. Arsène de Pen spoke a few words to her, and then, bowing to Mademoiselle Gervois, said, I must apologize to you, Mademoiselle, for all this annoyance, but I hope, nevertheless, that you have not been too unhappy. Unhappy? I should even have been very happy if it had not been for my poor father. Then all is for the best. Embrace him once more and take the opportunity you will never have a better of speaking to him about your cousin. My cousin? What do you mean? Oh, I think you understand. Your cousin Philip, the young man whose letters you kept so preciously, Suzanne blushed, lost countenance, and then, taking Lupin's advice, threw herself once more into her father's arms. Lupin looked at them both with a melting-eye. Ha! We are always rewarded for doing good. What a touching sight! Happy father, happy daughter, and to think that this happiness will never work, Lupin. Those two beings will bless you later. Your name will be piercely headed down to their children, and their children's children. Oh, family life, family life! He turned to the window. Is our dear Ganyma there still? How he would love to witness this charming display of affection. But no, he's not there. There's nobody. They're all gone. By Jove, the position is growing serious. I wonder if they were in the gateway by now, or by the porter's lodge, or even on the stairs. Monsieur Gervois made an involuntary movement. Now that his daughter was restored to him, he began to see things in their true light. The arrest of his adversary meant half a million to him. Instinctively he took a step toward the door. Lupin barred his way as though by accident. Where are you going, Monsieur Gervois? To defend me against them you are too kind. Pray don't trouble. Besides, I assure you, they are more perplexed than I. And he continued reflectively. What do they know when all is said? That you are here? And perhaps that Mademois Gervois is here too, for they must have seen her come with an unknown lady. But they have no idea that I am here. How could I have entered a house which they searched this morning from Seller to Garrett? They are waiting for me to catch me on the wing. Poor fellows. Unless they have guessed that the unknown lady was sent by me and presumed that she has been commissioned to effect the exchange. In that case, they are preparing to arrest her when she leaves. The bell rang. Lupin stopped Monsieur Gervois with an abrupt gesture and in a harsh and peremptory voice said, Stay where you are, sir. Think of your daughter and be reasonable. Mademois, as for you, Monsieur Gervois stood, rooted to the floor. The lawyer did not move. Lupin took up his head without the least show of haste. There was a little dust on it. He brushed it with the back of his coat sleeve. My dear Mademois, if I can ever be of use to you, my best wishes, Mademois and Suzanne and kind regards to Monsieur Philippe. He took a heavy gold hunter from his pocket. Monsieur Gervois, it is now eighteen minutes to four. I authorize you to leave this room at fourteen minutes to four, not a moment before fourteen minutes to four. Is it understood? But they'll enter by force, Métro de Tina could not help saying. You forget the law, my dear Métro. Ghanimah would never dare to violate the sanctity of a Frenchman's home. We should have time for a pleasant rubber. But forgive me, I will all three seem a little upset and I would not for the world abuse. He placed the watch on the table, opened the door of the room and, addressing the fair-haired lady, said, shall we go, dear? He stood back for her to pass, made a parting and very respectful bow to Mademois Gervois, walked out and closed the door after him. And they heard him in the hall, saying aloud, Good afternoon, Ghanimah, how are you? Good afternoon, Madame Ghanimah. I must drop in on her to lunch one of these days. Goodbye, Ghanimah. The bell rang again, sharply, violently, followed by repeated knocks and by the sound of voices on the landing. A quarter to four stammered Monsieur Gervois. After a few seconds he stepped boldly into the hall. Arsène Dupin, the fair-haired lady, were not there. Father, you must not. Wait, you're mad. Show consideration to that scoundrel. And what about the half-million? He opened the door. Ghanimah rushed in. Where's that lady, and Lupin? He was there. He's there now. Ghanimah gave a shout of triumph. We've got him. The house is surrounded. Mette Auditina objected. But the servant staircase The servant staircase leads to the courtyard and there's only one outlet, the front door. I have ten men watching it. But he did not come in by the front door. He won't go out that way either. Which way then? Jeered Ghanimah through the air. He drew back a curtain. A long passage was revealed leading to the kitchen. Ghanimah ran down it and found that the door of the servant staircase was double-locked. Opening the window he called to one of the detectives. Seen anyone? No, sir. Then, he exclaimed, they are in the flat. They are hiding in one of the rooms. It is physically impossible for them to have escaped. Ha! Lupin, my lad. You did me once, but I'm having my revenge this time. At seven o'clock in the evening, astonished at receiving no news, the head of the detective service, Monsieur Dujoui, called at a rue Clapeyron in person. He put a few questions to the men who were watching the house and then went up to Mette Auditina who took him to his room. There he saw a man or rather a man's two legs struggling on the carpet, while the body to which they belonged was stuffed up the chimney. Hi! Hi! He helped a stifled voice and the more distant voice from right above echoed. Hi! Hi! Monsieur Dujoui left and exclaimed, Well, Ghanimah, what are you playing sweep for? The inspector withdrew his body from the chimney. He was unrecognizable with his black face, his sooty clothes and his eyes glowing with fever. I'm looking for him, he growled. For whom? Arsène Lupin. Arsène Lupin and his lady friend. But what next? You surely don't imagine they're hiding up the chimney. Ghanimah rose to his feet, put his five soot-covered fingers on the sleeve of his superior's coat, and in a hollow angry voice said, Where would you have them be, chief? They must be somewhere. They are beings of flesh and blood, like you and me. They can't vanish into thin air. No, but they vanish for all that. Where? Where? The house is surrounded. There are men on the roof. What about the next house? There is no communication. The flats on the other floors. I know all the tenants. They have seen nobody. They have heard nobody. Are you sure you know them all? Everyone. The porter answers for them. Besides, as an additional precaution, I have posted a man in each flat. We must find them, you know. That's what I say, chief. That's what I say. We must, and we shall, because they are both here. They can't be anywhere else. Be easy, chief. If I don't catch them tonight, I shall spend the night here. I shall spend the night here. He did, in fact, spend the night there, and the next night, and the night after that. And, when three whole days and three nights had elapsed, not only had he failed to discover the elusive Lupin and his no less elusive companion, but he had not even observed the slightest clue upon which to found the slightest supposition. He refused to budge from his first opinion. Once there's no trace of their flight, they must be here. It is possible that, in the depths of his mind, he was less firmly convinced, but he refused to admit as much to himself. No, a thousand times no. A man and a woman do not vanish into space like the wicked genii in the fairy tales. And, without losing courage, he continued his searchings and investigations, as though he hoped to discover them hidden in some impenetrable retreat, bricked up in the walls of the house. In the evening of the 27th of March, old General Baron d'Autrec, who had been French ambassador in Berlin, under the Second Empire, was sleeping comfortably in an easy chair in the house which his brother had left him six months before, at 134 Avenue Henri Martin. His lady companion continued to read aloud to him, while Sir Auguste warmed the bed and prepared the nightlight. As an exceptional case, the sister was returning to her convent that evening, to spend the night with the mother superior, and, at eleven o'clock, she said, I'm finished now, mademoiselle Antoinette, and I'm going. Very well, sister. And don't forget that the cook is sleeping out tonight and that you are aloning the house with the manservant. You need have no fear for Monsieur le Baron. I shall sleep in the next room, as arranged, and leave the door open. The nun went away. A minute later Charles, the manservant, came in for his orders. The Baron had woke up. He replied himself. Just the same as usual, Charles, try the electric bell, to see if it rings in your bedroom properly, and, if you hear it during the night, run down at once and go straight to the doctor. Are you still anxious, General? I don't feel well. I don't feel at all well. Come, mademoiselle Antoinette, where were we in your book? Aren't you going to bed, Monsieur le Baron? No, no. I don't care to go to bed till very late. Besides, I can do without help. Twenty minutes later the old man dozed off again and Antoinette moved away on tiptoe. At that moment Charles was carefully closing the shutters on the ground floor as usual. In the kitchen he pushed the bolt of the door that led to the garden. And in the front hall he not only locked the double door but put up the chain fastening the two leaves. Then he went up to his attic on the third floor, got into bed, and fell asleep. Perhaps an hour had elapsed when suddenly he jumped out of bed. The bell was ringing. It went on for quite a long time, seven or eight seconds perhaps, and in a steady, uninterrupted way. That's all right, said Charles, recovering his wits. Some fresh whim of the barons, I suppose. He huddled on his clothes, ran down the stairs, stopped before the door, and from habit knocked. No answer. He entered the room. Hello? he muttered. No light. What on earth have they put the light out for? And he called in a whisper. Mademoiselle! Are you there? Mademoiselle! What's the matter? Is Monsieur le baron ill? The same silence continued around him, a heavy silence that ended by impressing him. He took two steps forward. His foot knocked against the chair, and, untouching it, he perceived that it was overturned. And thereupon his hand came upon other object on the floor, a small table, a fire screen. Greatly alarmed he went back to the wall and fell for the electric switch. He found it and turned on the light. In the middle of the room between the table and the looking-glass wardrobe lay the body of his master, the baron d'hautaic. What! he stammered. Is it possible? He did not know what to do. And, without moving, with his eyes starting from his head, he stood gazing at the general disorder of the room. The chairs upset. A great crystal candle stood up, and he sat. A great crystal candlestick smashed into a thousand pieces. The clock lying on the marble hearthstone. All signs of a fierce and hideous struggle. The handle of a little steel dagger gleamed near the body. The blade was dripping with blood. A handkerchief stained with red marks hung down from the mattress. Charles gave a yell of horror. The body had suddenly stretched itself in one last effort and then shrunk up again. Two were three convulsions. And that was all. He stood forward. Blood was trickling from a tiny wound in the neck and spotting the carpet with dark stains. The face still wore an expression of mad terror. They've killed him, he stammered. They've killed him! And he shuddered at the thought of another probable crime. Was not the companion sleeping in the next room? And would not the Baron's murderer have killed her too? He pushed open the door. The room was empty. He concluded that either Antoinette had been carried off or that she had gone before the crime. He returned to the Baron's room and, his eyes falling upon the writing desk, he observed that it had not been broken open. More remarkable still, he saw a handful of lead door on the table, a bunch of keys and the pocketbook which the Baron plays there every evening. Charles took up the pocketbook and went through it. One of the compartments contained banknotes. He counted them. There were thirteen notes of a hundred francs each. Then the temptation became too strong for him. Instinctively, mechanically, while his thoughts did not even take part in the movement of his hand, he took the thirteen notes, put them in his jacket, rushed down the stairs, drew the bolt, unhooked the chain, closed the door after him and fled through the garden. Charles was an honest man at heart. He had no sooner pushed back the gate than, under the influence of the fresh air, with his face cold by the rain, he stopped. The deed of which he had been guilty appeared to him in its true light and struck him with sudden horror. A cab passed. Hi, mate, go to the police station and bring back the commissary. Gallop, there's murder being done. The driver whipped up his horse. But, when Charles tried to go in again, he could not. He had closed the gate himself and the gate could not be opened from the outside. On the other hand, it was of no use-ringing, for there was no one in the house. He therefore walked up and down along the garden switch, at the la-muette end, and lined the avenue with a pleasant border of trimmed green shrubs. And it was not until he had waited for nearly an hour that he was at last able to tell the commissary the details of the crime and hand him the thirteen banknotes. During this time, a locksmith was sent for, who, with great difficulty, succeeded in forcing the gate of the garden and the front door. The commissary went upstairs and, at once, at the first glance, wa, you told me that the room was in the greatest disorder. He turned round. Charles seemed pinned to the threshold, hypnotized. All the furniture had resumed its usual place. The little table was standing between the two windows. The chairs were on their legs and the clock in the middle of the mental piece. The shivers of the smashed candlestick had disappeared. Gaping with stupor, he articulated, his body, Monsieur le Baron. Yes, cried the commissary, where is the victim? He walked up to the bed. Under a large sheet, which he drew aside, lay General Baron d'Autrèque, late French ambassador in Berlin. His body was covered with his general's cloak, decorated with the cross of the Legion of Honor. The face was calm. The eyes were closed. The servants stammered. Which way? I can say. But someone has been here during my absence. Look, there was a very thin steel dagger there, on the floor. And then, on the table, a bloodstained handkerchief. That's all gone. They've taken away everything. They've arranged everything. But who? The murderer. We found all the doors closed. He must have remained in the house. Then he would be here still, as you never left the pavement. The man reflected and said slowly, That's all. That's all. And I did not go far from the gate either. Still. Let us see. Who was the last person you saw with the Baron? Mademoiselle Antoinette, the companion. What has become of her? I should say that, as her bed was not even touched, she must have taken advantage of her absence to go out also. It would only have surprised me if she had. She's young and pretty. But how could she have got out? Through the door. You pushed the bolt and fastened the chain. A good deal later. By that time, she must have left the house. And the crime was committed, you think, after she went? Of course. They searched the house from top to bottom, from the garrets to the cellars. But the murderer had fled. How? When? Was it he or an accomplice who had thought proper to return to the scene of the crime and do away with anything that might have betrayed him? Those were the questions that suggested themselves to the police. The divisional surgeon came upon the scene at seven o'clock, the head of the detective service at eight. Next came the turn of the public prosecutor in the examining magistrate. In addition, the house was filled with policemen, inspectors, journalists, Barondo Trec's nephew and other members of the family. They rummaged about. They studied the position of the body according to Charles's recollection. They questioned Serra Auguste the moment she arrived. They discovered nothing. At most, Serra Auguste was surprised at the disappearance of Antoinette Praia. She had engaged the girl twelve days before on the strength of excellent references and refused to believe that she could have abandoned the sick man confided to her care to go running about at night alone. All the more so the examining magistrate insisted as in that case she would have been in before now we therefore come back to the same point what has become of her. If you ask me, said Charles she has been carried off by the murderer. The suggestion was plausible enough and fitted in with certain details. The head of the detective service said carried off upon my word it's quite likely. It's not only unlikely said a voice but absolutely opposed to the facts to the results of the investigation in short to the evidence itself. The voice was harsh the accent gruff and no one was surprised to recognize Ganymar. He alone besides would be forgiven that rather free way of expressing himself. Hello, is that you Ganymar? cried Monsieur Dujoui. I hadn't seen you. I have been here for two hours. So, you do take an interest in something besides number 514 series 23 the Hugh Clapeyron mystery the blonde lady and Arsène Lupin. He, he grinned the old inspector. I won't go so far as to declare that Lupin has nothing to do with the case we're engaged on. But let us dismiss the story of the lottery ticket from our minds until further orders and look into this matter. Ganymar is not one of those mighty detectives whose proceedings form a school as it were and whose names will always remain inscribed on the judicial annals of Europe. He lacks the flashes of genius that illumin a dupin, a lecock or a homelock shears. But he possesses first rate average qualities perspicacity sagacity, perseverance and even a certain amount of intuition. His greatest merit lies in the fact that he is absolutely independent of outside influences. Short of a kind of fascination which Arsène Lupin wields over him he works without allowing himself to be biased or disturbed. At any rate the part which he played that morning did not lack brilliancy and his assistance was of the sort which a magistrate is able to appreciate. Just start with he began I will ask Charles here to be very definite on one point were all the objects which on the first occasion he saw upset or disturbed put back on the second exactly in their usual places? Exactly. It is obvious therefore that they can only have been put back by a person to whom the place of each of those objects was familiar. The remarking pressed the bystanders. Garimard resumed Another question Mr. Charles you were awoke by a ring who was it according to you that called you? Monsieur le Baron of course very well but at what moment do you take it that he rang after the struggle at the moment of dying? Impossible because you found him lying lifeless at a spot more than four yards removed from the bell push then he rang during the struggle Impossible because the bell you told us rang steadily without interruption and went on for seven or eight seconds do you think that his assailant would have given him time to ring like that? Then it was before at the moment when he was attacked Impossible you told us that between the ring of the bell and the instant when you enter the room three minutes elapsed at most if therefore the Baron had rung before it would be necessary for the struggle the murder, the dying agony and the flight to have taken place within that short space of three minutes I repeat it is impossible and yet said the examining magistrate someone rang if it was not the Baron who was it the murderer with what object? I can't tell his object but at least the fact that he rang he must have known that the bell communicated with the servant's bedroom now who could have known this detail except a person belonging to the house the circle of suppositions was becoming narrower in a few quick clear logical sentences Gunymar placed the question in its true light and as the old inspector allowed his thoughts to appear quite plainly it seemed only natural that the examining magistrate should conclude in short, in two words you suspect Antoinette Preah I don't suspect her I accuse her you accuse her of being the accomplice I accuse her of killing General Baron d'Autrêque come come and what truth this handful of hair which I found in the victim's right hand dug into his flesh by the point of his nails he showed the hair it was hair of a brilliant fairness unlike so many threads of gold and Charles muttered that is certainly Mademoiselle Antoinette's hair there's no mistaking it and he added besides, there's something more I believe the knife the one I didn't see the second time belonged to her she used it to cut the pages of the books the silence that followed was long and painful as though the crime increased in horror through having been committed by a woman the examining magistrate argued let us admit until further information is obtained that the Baron was murdered by Antoinette Preah we should still have to explain what way she can have taken to go out after committing the crime to return after Charles's departure and to go out again before the arrival of the commissary have you any opinion on this subject Monsieur Ganyma? no then for an ear of embarrassment at last he spoke not without a visible effort all that I can say is that I find in this the same way of setting to work as in the ticket 51423Ks the same phenomenon which one might call the faculty of disappearance Antoinette Preah appears and disappears in this house as mysteriously as Arsène Lupin made his way into Maitre-de-Tinance and escaped from there in the company of the blonde lady which means that I cannot help thinking of these two coincidences which to say the least are very odd first Antoinette Preah was engaged by Serre Auguste twelve days ago that is to say on the day after that on which the blonde lady slipped through my fingers in the second place the hair of the blonde lady has precisely the same violent coloring the metallic brilliancy with the golden sheen which we find in this so that according to you Antoinette Preah is none other than the blonde lady and Lupin consequently plotted both cases I think so there was a loud burst of laughter it was the chief of the detective service indulging his merriment Lupin always Lupin everything Lupin is everywhere he is just where he is said Ganyma and then he must have his reasons for being in any particular place remarked Monsieur Jujuie and in this case his reasons seem to me obscure the writing desk has not been broken open nor the pocketbook stolen there is even gold left lying on the table yes cried Ganyma but what about the famous diamond what diamond the blue diamond the celebrated diamond which formed part of the royal crown of France and which was presented by the Duke d'Alès to Leonide Latouche and on her death was bought by Baron d'Autrèque in memory of the brilliant actress whom he had passionately loved this is one of those recollections which an old Parisian like myself never forgets it is obvious said the examining magistrate the blue diamond is not found the thing explains itself but where are we to look on Monsieur le Baron's finger replied Charles the blue diamond was never off his left hand I have looked at that bad hand declared Ganyma going up to the corpse and as you can see for yourselves there is only a plain gold ring look inside the poem said the servant Ganyma unfolded the clenched fingers the bezel was turned inward and contained within the bezel glittered the blue diamond the devil muttered Ganyma absolutely non-plussed this is beyond me and I hope that we will now give up suspecting that unfortunate Arsène Lupin said Monsieur du Douis with a grin Ganyma took his time reflected and retorted in a sententious tone it is just when a thing gets beyond me that I suspect Arsène Lupin most these were the first discoveries affected by the police on the day following upon that strange murder vague inconsistent discoveries to which the subsequent inquiry imparted neither consistency nor certainty the movements of Antoinette Brea remained as absolutely inexplicable as those of the blonde lady nor was any light thrown upon the identity of that mysterious creature the golden hair who had killed Baron d'Otrec the fabulous diamond from the royal crown of France moreover and especially the curiosity which it inspired raised the murder above the level of a started crime to that of a mighty Yphénos Trespas the mystery of which irritated the public mind Baron d'Otrec's heirs were obliged to benefit by this great advertisement they arranged an exhibition of the furniture and personal effects in the Avenue Henri Martin in the house itself on the scene of the crime prior to the sale at the Saint-Druis the furniture was modern and in indifferent taste the knickknacks had no artistic value but in the middle of the bedroom on a stand covered with ruby velvet the ring with the blue diamonds sparkled under a glass shade closely watched by two detectives it was a magnificent diamond of enormous size and incomparable purity and of that undefined blue which clear water takes from the sky which it reflects the blue which we can just suspect in newly washed linen people admired it went into raptures over it and cast terrified glances around the victim's room at the spot where the corpse had lain at the floors stripped of its bloodstained carpet and especially at the walls those solid walls through which the criminal had passed they felt to make sure that the marble chimney piece did not swing on a pivot that there was no secret spring in the moldings of the mirrors they pictured yawning cavities tunnels communicating with the sewers with the catacombs the blue diamond was sold at the Hôtel-Tour on the 30th of January the auction room was crammed and the bidding proceeded madly all Paris night and great public functions was there all those who buy and all those who like others to think that they are in a position to buy stockbrokers artists, ladies in every class of society two members of the government an Italian tenor a king in exile who in order to re-establish his credit with great self-possession and in a resounding voice permitted himself the luxury of running up the price to 100,000 francs his majesty was quite safe in making the bid the Italian tenor was soon offering 150,000 an actress at the Francais 175 at 200,000 francs however the competition became less brisk at 250,000 only two bidders remained Hirschman the financial magnate known as the gold mine king and a wealthy American lady the contest de croissant whose collection of diamonds and other precious stones enjoys a worldwide fame 260,000 270,000 75 80, said the auctioneer with a questioning glance at either competitor in turn 280,000 for Madame no advance on 280,000 300,000 motored Hirschman a pause followed smiling but with a pallor that portrayed her excitement she stood leaning over the back of the chair before her in reality she knew and everybody present knew that there was no doubt about the finish of the duel it was logically and fatally bound to end in favor of the financier whose whims were served by a fortune of over 500,000,000 nevertheless she said 305,000 there was a further pause every glance was now turned on the gold mine king in expectation of the inevitable advance it was sure to come in all its brittle and crushing strength it did not come Hirschman remained impassive with his eyes fixed on a sheet of paper which he held in his right hand while the other crumpled up the pieces of a torn envelope 305,000 repeated the auctioneer going, going, no further bid no one spoke once more, going, going Hirschman did not move a last pause the hammer fell 400,000 shouted Hirschman starting up as though the tap of the hammer had roused him from his torpor too late the diamond was sold Hirschman's acquaintances crowded round him what had happened? why had he not spoken sooner? he gave a laugh what happened? upon my word my thoughts wondered for a second you don't mean that yes, someone brought me a letter and was that enough to put me off? yes, for the moment Ganyma was there he had watched the sale of the ring he went up to one of the porters did you hand Mr. Hirschman a letter? yes who gave it to you? a lady where is she? why sir, there she is a lady over there in a thick veil just going out? yes Ganyma rushed to the door and saw the lady going down the staircase he ran after her a stream of people stopped him at the entrance when he came outside he had lost sight of her he went back to the room spoke to Hirschman, introduced himself and asked him about the letter Hirschman gave it to him it contained the following simple words scribbled in pencil and in a handwriting unknown to the financier the blue diamond brings ill luck remember Baron d'Autrèque the tribulations of the blue diamond were not over already famous through the murder of Baron d'Autrèque and the incidents at the Hôtel Drouot it attained the height of its celebrity six months later in the summer the precious jewel which the contest de Crozon had been at such pains to acquire let me sum up this curious case marked by so many stirring dramatic and exciting episodes upon which I am at last permitted to throw some light on the evening of the 10th of August Monsieur and Madame de Crozon's guests were gathered in the drawing room of the magnificent château overlooking the Bay of Somme there was a request for some music the Countess sat down to the piano to cough her rings which included Baron d'Autrèques and lay them on a little table that stood beside the piano an hour later the Count went to bed as did his two cousins and Madame de Réal an intimate friend of the contest de Crozon who remained behind with Herr Bleichen the Austrian consul and his wife they sat and talked and then the Countess turned down the big lamp which stood on the drawing room table at the same moment Herr Bleichen put out the two lamps on the piano there was a second's darkness and groping then the consul lit a candle and they all three went to their rooms but the instant the Countess reached hers she remembered her jewels and told her maid to go and fetch them the woman returned and placed them on the mantelpiece Madame de Crozon did not examine them but the next morning she noticed that one of the rings was missing the ring with the blue diamond she told her husband both immediately came to the same conclusion the maid being above suspicion the thief could be none but Herr Bleichen the Count informed the centre commissary of police at Amiens who opened an inquiry and arranged discreetly for the house to be constantly watched so as to prevent the Austrian consul from selling or sending away the ring the château was surrounded by detectives night and day a fortnight elapsed without the least incident then Herr Bleichen announced his intention of leaving on the same day a formal accusation was laid against him the commissary made an official visit and ordered the luggage to be examined in a small bag of which the consul always carried a key they found a flask containing tooth powder and inside the flask the ring Mrs. Bleichen fainted her husband was arrested my readers will remember the defence set up by the accused he was unable, he said to explain the presence of the ring unless it was there as the result of an act of revenge on the part of Messier de Crozon the Count ill-treats his wife he declared and makes her life a misery I had a long conversation with her and warmly urged her to sue for a divorce the Count must have heard of this and revenge himself by taking the ring and slipping it into my dressing-bag when I was about to leave the Count and Countess persisted in their charge it was an even choice between their explanation and the consuls, both were equally probable no new fact came to a down either scale a month of gossip, of guesswork and investigations failed to produce a single element of certainty annoyed by all this worry and unable to bring forward a definite proof of guilt to justify their accusation Messier de Crozon wrote to Paris for a detective capable of unraveling the threads of the scheme the police sent Ganimar for four days the old inspector rummaged and hunted about strolled in the park had long talks with the maids the chauffeurs, the gardeners the people of the nearest post offices and examined the rooms occupied by the Bleichen couple the Dandel cousins and Madame de Réal one morning he disappeared without taking leave of his hosts but a week later they received this telegram please meet me five o'clock tomorrow Friday afternoon at Té Japonais Ganimar at five o'clock to the minute on the Friday their motor-car drew up in front of nine the old inspector was waiting for them on the pavement and without a word of explanation to the first floor of the Té Japonais in one of the rooms they found two persons whom Ganimar introduced to them Messier Gervois professor at Versailles College Arsène Lupin robbed of half a million Messier Léonce d'Autraic nephew and residuary legatee of the late Baron d'Autraic the four sat down a few minutes later a fifth arrived it was the chief of the detective service Messier Gervois appeared to be in a rather bad temper he bowed and said well what is it Ganimar they gave me your telephone message at headquarters is it serious very serious chief in less than an hour the last adventures in which I have assisted will come to an issue here I consider that your presence was indispensable and thus is applied also to the presence of Dieu Zi and Folenfemme whom I see below hanging round the door and what for is somebody to be arrested what a melodramatic display well Ganimar say what you have to say Ganimar hesitated for a few moments and then with the evident intention of impressing his hearer said first of all I wish to state that Heier Bleichen had nothing to do with the theft of the ring oh said Messier Gervois that's a mere statement and a serious one and the Count asked is this discovery the only thing that has come of our exertions no sir two days after the theft three of your guests happened to be at Récy in the course of a moderate trip two of them went on to visit the famous battlefield while the third hurried to the post office and sent off a little parcel packed up and sealed according to the regulations and insured to the value of 100 francs Messier Descrossement objected there's nothing out of the way in that perhaps you will think it less natural when I tell you that instead of the real name the sender gave the name of Rousseau and that the address C a Messier Belou residing in Paris changed his lodgings on the very evening of the day on which he received the parcel that is to say the ring was it one of my Dandel cousins by any chance asked the Count no it was neither of those gentlemen then it was Madame de Réal yes the Countess in amazement exclaimed do you accuse my friend Madame de Réal a simple question Madame replied Ghanimah was Madame de Réal present at the sale of the blue diamond yes but in a different part of the room we were not together did she advise you to buy the ring the Countess collected her memory yes as a matter of fact I think she was the first to mention it to me I know what your answer Madame said Ghanimah so it is quite certain that it was Madame de Réal who first spoke to you of the ring and advised you to buy it still my friend is incapable I beg your pardon Madame de Réal is only your chance acquaintance and not an intimate friend as the newspaper stated thus diverting suspicion from her you have only known her since last winter now I can undertake to prove to you that all that she has told you about herself her past, her connections is absolutely false that Madame de Réal did not exist before she met you and that she has seized to exist at this present moment well what next what next yes what next this is all very interesting but what has it to do with the case if Madame de Réal took the ring why was it found in her Bleichen's tooth powder come Ghanimah a person who takes the trouble to steal the blue diamond keeps it what have you to answer to that I nothing but Madame de Réal will answer then she exists she exists without existing in a few words here it is three days ago reading the paper hey I saw at the head of the list of arrivals at Truville, Hotel Bourri-Vage Madame de Réal and so on you can imagine that I was at Truville that same evening questioning the manager of the Bourri-Vage according to the description and certain clues which I gathered this Madame de Réal was indeed the person whom I was looking for but she had gone from the hotel leaving her address in Paris on Wednesday I called at that address that there was no Madame de Réal but just a woman called Réal who lived on the second floor followed the occupation of a diamond broker and was often away only the day before she had come back from a journey yesterday I rang at her door and under a false name offered my services to Madame de Réal as an intermediary to introduce her to people who were in a position to buy valuable stones we made an appointment to meet here today for a first transaction oh so you expect her at half past five and are you sure that it is Madame de Réal of the Château des Crozons I have indisputable proofs but ha fallen font-signal a whistle had sounded Ganyma rose briskly we have not a moment to lose Monsieur and Madame des Crozons go into the next room please you too Monsieur Dottrec the door will remain open and at the first sign I will ask you to intervene do you stay chief please and if anyone else comes in ask Monsieur Joujoui this is a new establishment and the proprietor who is a friend of mine will not let a living soul come up the stairs except the blonde lady the blonde lady what do you mean the blonde lady herself chief the friend and accomplice of Arsène Dupin the blonde lady against whom I have positive proofs but against whom I want over and above those and in your presence to collect the evidence of all the people whom she has robbed he leaned out of the window she's coming she has gone in she can't escape now fallen font-signal are guarding the door the blonde lady is ours chief we've got her almost at that moment a woman appeared upon the threshold a tall thin woman with a very pale face and violent golden hair Ganymar was tiffled by such emotion that he stood dumb incapable of articulating the least word she was there in front of him at his disposal what a victory over Arsène Dupin and what a revenge and at the same time that victory seemed to him to have been won with such ease that he wondered whether the blonde lady was not going to slip through his fingers thanks to one of those miracles which Lupin was in the habit of performing she stood waiting meanwhile surprised at the silence and looked around her without disguising her uneasiness she will go she'll disappear thought Ganymar in this may suddenly he placed himself between her and the door she turned and tried to go out no no he said why go but Missier I don't understand your ways yes there's no reason for you to go madame and every reason on the contrary why you should stay but to no use you are not going turning very pale she sank into a chair and stammered what do you want Ganymar triumphed he had got the blonde lady mastering himself he said let me introduce the friend of whom I spoke to you the one who would like to buy some jewels especially diamonds do you mean the one you promised me no no I don't know I forget oh yes just try someone you knew was to bring you a collared diamond something like the blue diamond I said laughing and you answered exactly I may have what you want do you remember she was silent a little wrist back which she was holding her hand fell to the ground she picked it up quickly and pressed it to her her fingers trembled a little come said Ganymar I see that you do not trust us madame der real I will set you a good example and let you see what I have got to show he took a piece of paper from his pocketbook and unfolded it here first of all is some of the hair of Antoinette Brea torn out by the Baron and found clutched in the dead men's hand I have seen Mademoiselle de Gervois she has most positively recognized the color of the hair of the blonde lady the same color as yours for that matter exactly the same color madame der real watched him with a stupid expression as though she really did not grasp the sense of his words he continued and now here are two bottles of scent they are empty it is true and have no labels but enough of the scent still clings to them to have enabled Mademoiselle de Gervois to recognize the perfume of the blonde lady who accompanied her on her fortnight's excursion now one of these bottles comes from the room which madame der real occupied at the château de croissant and the other from the room which you occupied at the hotel Bourri-Vage what are you talking about the blonde lady the château de croissant the inspector without replying spread four sheets of paper on the table lastly he said here on these four sheets we have a specimen of the handwriting of Antoinette Praia another of the lady who sent a note to Baron Hirschman during the sale of the blue diamond another of madame der real at the time of her stay at croissant and the fourth your own madame your name and address given by yourself to the whole porter of the hotel Bourri-Vage at Trouville now please compare these four handwriting they are one and the same but you are mad sir what does all this mean it means madame cried Ghanima with a great outburst that the blonde lady, the friend and accomplice of Arsene Lupin is none other than yourself he pushed open the door of the next room rushed at monsieur Gérbois shoved him along by his shoulders and planting him in front of madame real monsieur Gérbois do you recognize the person who took away your daughter and whom you saw at Maître de Tinas? no there was a commotion of which everyone felt the shock Ghanima staggered back no is it possible? come just think, I have thought madame is fair like the blonde lady and pale like her but she doesn't resemble her in the least I can't believe it a mistake like that is inconceivable monsieur Dottrec, do you recognize Antoinette Preah? I have seen Antoinette Preah at my uncles this is not she and madame is not madame de Real either they cleared the comm the croissant this was the finishing stroke it stunned Ghanima who stood motionless with hanging head and shifting eyes of all his contravences nothing remained the whole edifice was tumbling about his shoulders monsieur Dottrec I must beg you to forgive us madame there has been a regrettable confusion of identities which I will ask you to forget but what I cannot well understand is your agitation the strangeness of your manner since you arrived why monsieur? I was frightened there is over a hundred thousand francs worth of jewels in my bag and your friend's attitude was not very reassuring but your continual absences surely my occupation demands them monsieur Dujouy had no reply to make he turned to his subordinate you have made your inquiries with a deplorable want of thoroughness Ghanima and your behavior toward madame just now was uncouth you shall give me an explanation in my office the interview was over and the chief of the detective service was about to take his leave when a really disconcerting thing happened madame Chayal went up to the inspector and said do I understand your name to be monsieur Ghanima? did I catch the name right? yes in that case this letter must be for you I received it this morning addressed as you see monsieur Justin Ghanima care of madame Chayal I thought it was a joke as I did not know you under that name but I have no doubt the writer whoever he is Justin Ghanima was very nearly seizing the letter and destroying it he dared not to so however before his superior and he tore open the envelope the letter contained the following words which he uttered in a hardly intelligible voice there was once a blonde lady a loupin and a Ghanima now the naughty Ghanima wanted to harm the pretty blonde lady and the good loupin did not wish it so the good loupin who was anxious for the blonde lady to become friends with the contest de Croson made her take the name of madame de Réal which is the same or nearly as that of an honest straights woman whose hair is golden and her features pale and the good loupin sat to himself if ever the naughty Ghanima is on the track of the blonde lady how useful it will be for me to shunt him on to the track of the honest straights woman a wise precaution which has borrowed fruit a little note sent to the naughty Ghanima's newspaper a bottle of sand forgotten on purpose at the Hotel Bourri-Vage by the real blonde lady madame Réal's name and a dress written by the real blonde lady in the visitor's book at the hotel and the trick is done what do you say to it Ghanima I wanted to tell you the story in detail knowing that with your sense of humor you would be the first to laugh at it it is indeed a pretty story and I confess that for my part it has diverted me vastly my best thanks to you then my dear friend and kind regards to that capital Monsieur Jujuie Arsène Lupin but he knows everything Mont Ghanima who did not think of laughing he knows things that I have not told to a soul how could he know that I would ask you to come chief how could he know that I had discovered well how could he know he stamped about tore his hair a prey to the most tragic distress Monsieur Jujuie took pity on him calm Ghanima console yourself we must try to do better next time and the chief detective went away accompanied by madame Réal ten minutes elapsed while Ghanima read Lupin's letter over and over again and monsieur madame Décroison monsieur Dôtrec and monsieur Gérbois sustained an animated conversation in a corner at last the count crossed over to the inspector and said the upshot of all this my dear sir is that we are no further than we were pardon me my inquiry has established the fact that the blonde lady is the undoubted heroine of these adventures and that Lupin is directing her that is a huge step forward and not the smallest use to us if anything it makes the mystery darker still the blonde lady commits murder still the blue diamond and does not steal it she steals it and does so to get rid of it for another's benefit what can I do? nothing but someone else might what do you mean? the count hesitated but the count has said point blank there is one man one man only in my opinion besides yourself who would be capable of fighting Lupin and reducing him to cry for mercy Monsieur Ghanima would you very much mind if we call then the assistance of homelock shears? he was taken aback no no only I don't exactly understand well it's like this all this mystery is making me quite ill I want to know where I am Monsieur Gérbois, Monsieur Dottrec have the same wish and we have come to an agreement to apply to the famous English detective you are right madame said the inspector with a loyalty that did him credit you are right old Ghanima is not clever enough to fight against Arsène Lupin the question is will homelock shears be more successful? I hope so for I have the greatest admiration for him still it's hardly likely it's hardly likely that he will succeed that's what I think I consider that a duel between homelock shears and Arsène Lupin can only end in one way the Englishman will be beaten in any case can he rely on you? certainly madame I will assist him to the very best of my power do you know his address? yes, 219 Parker street that evening the Conte and Conteste de Croson withdrew the charge against her application and a collective letter was addressed to homelock shears end of chapter 2