The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsene Lupin
The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsene LupinI. The Arrest of Arsène LupinII. Arsène Lupin in PrisonIII. The Escape of Arsène LupinIV. The Mysterious TravellerV. The Queen's NecklaceVI. The Seven of HeartsVII. Madame Imbert's SafeVIII. The Black PearlIX. Sherlock Holmes Arrives Too LateCopyright
The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsene Lupin
Maurice Leblanc
I. The Arrest of Arsène Lupin
It was a strange ending to a voyage that had commenced in a
most auspicious manner. The transatlantic steamship `La Provence'
was a swift and comfortable vessel, under the command of a most
affable man. The passengers constituted a select and delightful
society. The charm of new acquaintances and improvised amusements
served to make the time pass agreeably. We enjoyed the pleasant
sensation of being separated from the world, living, as it were,
upon an unknown island, and consequently obliged to be sociable
with each other.Have you ever stopped to consider how much originality and
spontaneity emanate from these various individuals who, on the
preceding evening, did not even know each other, and who are now,
for several days, condemned to lead a life of extreme intimacy,
jointly defying the anger of the ocean, the terrible onslaught of
the waves, the violence of the tempest and the agonizing monotony
of the calm and sleepy water? Such a life becomes a sort of tragic
existence, with its storms and its grandeurs, its monotony and its
diversity; and that is why, perhaps, we embark upon that short
voyage with mingled feelings of pleasure and fear.But, during the past few years, a new sensation had been
added to the life of the transatlantic traveler. The little
floating island is now attached to the world from which it was once
quite free. A bond united them, even in the very heart of the
watery wastes of the Atlantic. That bond is the wireless telegraph,
by means of which we receive news in the most mysterious manner. We
know full well that the message is not transported by the medium of
a hollow wire. No, the mystery is even more inexplicable, more
romantic, and we must have recourse to the wings of the air in
order to explain this new miracle. During the first day of the
voyage, we felt that we were being followed, escorted, preceded
even, by that distant voice, which, from time to time, whispered to
one of us a few words from the receding world. Two friends spoke to
me. Ten, twenty others sent gay or somber words of parting to other
passengers.On the second day, at a distance of five hundred miles from
the French coast, in the midst of a violent storm, we received the
following message by means of the wireless telegraph:"Arsène Lupin is on your vessel, first cabin, blonde hair,
wound right fore-arm, traveling alone under name of
R........"At that moment, a terrible flash of lightning rent the stormy
skies. The electric waves were interrupted. The remainder of the
dispatch never reached us. Of the name under which Arsène Lupin was
concealing himself, we knew only the initial.If the news had been of some other character, I have no doubt
that the secret would have been carefully guarded by the
telegraphic operator as well as by the officers of the vessel. But
it was one of those events calculated to escape from the most
rigorous discretion. The same day, no one knew how, the incident
became a matter of current gossip and every passenger was aware
that the famous Arsène Lupin was hiding in our midst.Arsène Lupin in our midst! the irresponsible burglar whose
exploits had been narrated in all the newspapers during the past
few months! the mysterious individual with whom Ganimard, our
shrewdest detective, had been engaged in an implacable conflict
amidst interesting and picturesque surroundings. Arsène Lupin, the
eccentric gentleman who operates only in the chateaux and salons,
and who, one night, entered the residence of Baron Schormann, but
emerged empty-handed, leaving, however, his card on which he had
scribbled these words: "Arsène Lupin, gentleman-burglar, will
return when the furniture is genuine." Arsène Lupin, the man of a
thousand disguises: in turn a chauffer, detective, bookmaker,
Russian physician, Spanish bull-fighter, commercial traveler,
robust youth, or decrepit old man.Then consider this startling situation: Arsène Lupin was
wandering about within the limited bounds of a transatlantic
steamer; in that very small corner of the world, in that dining
saloon, in that smoking room, in that music room! Arsène Lupin was,
perhaps, this gentleman.... or that one.... my neighbor at the
table.... the sharer of my stateroom...."And this condition of affairs will last for five days!"
exclaimed Miss Nelly Underdown, next morning. "It is unbearable! I
hope he will be arrested."Then, addressing me, she added:"And you, Monsieur d'Andrézy, you are on intimate terms with
the captain; surely you know something?"I should have been delighted had I possessed any information
that would interest Miss Nelly. She was one of those magnificent
creatures who inevitably attract attention in every assembly.
Wealth and beauty form an irresistible combination, and Nelly
possessed both.Educated in Paris under the care of a French mother, she was
now going to visit her father, the millionaire Underdown of
Chicago. She was accompanied by one of her friends, Lady
Jerland.At first, I had decided to open a flirtation with her; but,
in the rapidly growing intimacy of the voyage, I was soon impressed
by her charming manner and my feelings became too deep and
reverential for a mere flirtation. Moreover, she accepted my
attentions with a certain degree of favor. She condescended to
laugh at my witticisms and display an interest in my stories. Yet I
felt that I had a rival in the person of a young man with quiet and
refined tastes; and it struck me, at times, that she preferred his
taciturn humor to my Parisian frivolity. He formed one in the
circle of admirers that surrounded Miss Nelly at the time she
addressed to me the foregoing question. We were all comfortably
seated in our deck-chairs. The storm of the preceding evening had
cleared the sky. The weather was now delightful."I have no definite knowledge, mademoiselle," I replied, "but
can not we, ourselves, investigate the mystery quite as well as the
detective Ganimard, the personal enemy of Arsène
Lupin?""Oh! oh! you are progressing very fast,
monsieur.""Not at all, mademoiselle. In the first place, let me ask, do
you find the problem a complicated one?""Very complicated.""Have you forgotten the key we hold for the solution to the
problem?""What key?""In the first place, Lupin calls himself Monsieur
R———-.""Rather vague information," she replied."Secondly, he is traveling alone.""Does that help you?" she asked."Thirdly, he is blonde.""Well?""Then we have only to peruse the passenger-list, and proceed
by process of elimination."I had that list in my pocket. I took it out and glanced
through it. Then I remarked:"I find that there are only thirteen men on the
passenger-list whose names begin with the letter R.""Only thirteen?""Yes, in the first cabin. And of those thirteen, I find that
nine of them are accompanied by women, children or servants. That
leaves only four who are traveling alone. First, the Marquis de
Raverdan——""Secretary to the American Ambassador," interrupted Miss
Nelly. "I know him.""Major Rawson," I continued."He is my uncle," some one said."Mon. Rivolta.""Here!" exclaimed an Italian, whose face was concealed
beneath a heavy black beard.Miss Nelly burst into laughter, and exclaimed: "That
gentleman can scarcely be called a blonde.""Very well, then," I said, "we are forced to the conclusion
that the guilty party is the last one on the list.""What is his name?""Mon. Rozaine. Does anyone know him?"No one answered. But Miss Nelly turned to the taciturn young
man, whose attentions to her had annoyed me, and said:"Well, Monsieur Rozaine, why do you not answer?"All eyes were now turned upon him. He was a blonde. I must
confess that I myself felt a shock of surprise, and the profound
silence that followed her question indicated that the others
present also viewed the situation with a feeling of sudden alarm.
However, the idea was an absurd one, because the gentleman in
question presented an air of the most perfect
innocence."Why do I not answer?" he said. "Because, considering my
name, my position as a solitary traveler and the color of my hair,
I have already reached the same conclusion, and now think that I
should be arrested."He presented a strange appearance as he uttered these words.
His thin lips were drawn closer than usual and his face was ghastly
pale, whilst his eyes were streaked with blood. Of course, he was
joking, yet his appearance and attitude impressed us
strangely."But you have not the wound?" said Miss Nelly,
naively."That is true," he replied, "I lack the wound."Then he pulled up his sleeve, removing his cuff, and showed
us his arm. But that action did not deceive me. He had shown us his
left arm, and I was on the point of calling his attention to the
fact, when another incident diverted our attention. Lady Jerland,
Miss Nelly's friend, came running towards us in a state of great
excitement, exclaiming:"My jewels, my pearls! Some one has stolen them
all!"No, they were not all gone, as we soon found out. The thief
had taken only part of them; a very curious thing. Of the diamond
sunbursts, jeweled pendants, bracelets and necklaces, the thief had
taken, not the largest but the finest and most valuable stones. The
mountings were lying upon the table. I saw them there, despoiled of
their jewels, like flowers from which the beautiful colored petals
had been ruthlessly plucked. And this theft must have been
committed at the time Lady Jerland was taking her tea; in broad
daylight, in a stateroom opening on a much frequented corridor;
moreover, the thief had been obliged to force open the door of the
stateroom, search for the jewel-case, which was hidden at the
bottom of a hat-box, open it, select his booty and remove it from
the mountings.Of course, all the passengers instantly reached the same
conclusion; it was the work of Arsène Lupin.That day, at the dinner table, the seats to the right and
left of Rozaine remained vacant; and, during the evening, it was
rumored that the captain had placed him under arrest, which
information produced a feeling of safety and relief. We breathed
once more. That evening, we resumed our games and dances. Miss
Nelly, especially, displayed a spirit of thoughtless gayety which
convinced me that if Rozaine's attentions had been agreeable to her
in the beginning, she had already forgotten them. Her charm and
good-humor completed my conquest. At midnight, under a bright moon,
I declared my devotion with an ardor that did not seem to displease
her.But, next day, to our general amazement, Rozaine was at
liberty. We learned that the evidence against him was not
sufficient. He had produced documents that were perfectly regular,
which showed that he was the son of a wealthy merchant of Bordeaux.
Besides, his arms did not bear the slightest trace of a
wound."Documents! Certificates of birth!" exclaimed the enemies of
Rozaine, "of course, Arsène Lupin will furnish you as many as you
desire. And as to the wound, he never had it, or he has removed
it."Then it was proven that, at the time of the theft, Rozaine
was promenading on the deck. To which fact, his enemies replied
that a man like Arsène Lupin could commit a crime without being
actually present. And then, apart from all other circumstances,
there remained one point which even the most skeptical could not
answer: Who except Rozaine, was traveling alone, was a blonde, and
bore a name beginning with R? To whom did the telegram point, if it
were not Rozaine?And when Rozaine, a few minutes before breakfast, came boldly
toward our group, Miss Nelly and Lady Jerland arose and walked
away.An hour later, a manuscript circular was passed from hand to
hand amongst the sailors, the stewards, and the passengers of all
classes. It announced that Mon. Louis Rozaine offered a reward of
ten thousand francs for the discovery of Arsène Lupin or other
person in possession of the stolen jewels."And if no one assists me, I will unmask the scoundrel
myself," declared Rozaine.Rozaine against Arsène Lupin, or rather, according to current
opinion, Arsène Lupin himself against Arsène Lupin; the contest
promised to be interesting.Nothing developed during the next two days. We saw Rozaine
wandering about, day and night, searching, questioning,
investigating. The captain, also, displayed commendable activity.
He caused the vessel to be searched from stern to stern; ransacked
every stateroom under the plausible theory that the jewels might be
concealed anywhere, except in the thief's own room."I suppose they will find out something soon," remarked Miss
Nelly to me. "He may be a wizard, but he cannot make diamonds and
pearls become invisible.""Certainly not," I replied, "but he should examine the lining
of our hats and vests and everything we carry with
us."Then, exhibiting my Kodak, a 9x12 with which I had been
photographing her in various poses, I added: "In an apparatus no
larger than that, a person could hide all of Lady Jerland's jewels.
He could pretend to take pictures and no one would suspect the
game.""But I have heard it said that every thief leaves some clue
behind him.""That may be generally true," I replied, "but there is one
exception: Arsène Lupin.""Why?""Because he concentrates his thoughts not only on the theft,
but on all the circumstances connected with it that could serve as
a clue to his identity.""A few days ago, you were more confident.""Yes, but since I have seen him at work.""And what do you think about it now?" she asked."Well, in my opinion, we are wasting our time."And, as a matter of fact, the investigation had produced no
result. But, in the meantime, the captain's watch had been stolen.
He was furious. He quickened his efforts and watched Rozaine more
closely than before. But, on the following day, the watch was found
in the second officer's collar box.This incident caused considerable astonishment, and displayed
the humorous side of Arsène Lupin, burglar though he was, but
dilettante as well. He combined business with pleasure. He reminded
us of the author who almost died in a fit of laughter provoked by
his own play. Certainly, he was an artist in his particular line of
work, and whenever I saw Rozaine, gloomy and reserved, and thought
of the double role that he was playing, I accorded him a certain
measure of admiration.On the following evening, the officer on deck duty heard
groans emanating from the darkest corner of the ship. He approached
and found a man lying there, his head enveloped in a thick gray
scarf and his hands tied together with a heavy cord. It was
Rozaine. He had been assaulted, thrown down and robbed. A card,
pinned to his coat, bore these words: "Arsène Lupin accepts with
pleasure the ten thousand francs offered by Mon. Rozaine." As a
matter of fact, the stolen pocket-book contained twenty thousand
francs.Of course, some accused the unfortunate man of having
simulated this attack on himself. But, apart from the fact that he
could not have bound himself in that manner, it was established
that the writing on the card was entirely different from that of
Rozaine, but, on the contrary, resembled the handwriting of Arsène
Lupin as it was reproduced in an old newspaper found on
board.Thus it appeared that Rozaine was not Arsène Lupin; but was
Rozaine, the son of a Bordeaux merchant. And the presence of Arsène
Lupin was once more affirmed, and that in a most alarming
manner.Such was the state of terror amongst the passengers that none
would remain alone in a stateroom or wander singly in unfrequented
parts of the vessel. We clung together as a matter of safety. And
yet the most intimate acquaintances were estranged by a mutual
feeling of distrust. Arsène Lupin was, now, anybody and everybody.
Our excited imaginations attributed to him miraculous and unlimited
power. We supposed him capable of assuming the most unexpected
disguises; of being, by turns, the highly respectable Major Rawson
or the noble Marquis de Raverdan, or even—for we no longer stopped
with the accusing letter of R—or even such or such a person well
known to all of us, and having wife, children and
servants.The first wireless dispatches from America brought no news;
at least, the captain did not communicate any to us. The silence
was not reassuring.Our last day on the steamer seemed interminable. We lived in
constant fear of some disaster. This time, it would not be a simple
theft or a comparatively harmless assault; it would be a crime, a
murder. No one imagined that Arsène Lupin would confine himself to
those two trifling offenses. Absolute master of the ship, the
authorities powerless, he could do whatever he pleased; our
property and lives were at his mercy.Yet those were delightful hours for me, since they secured to
me the confidence of Miss Nelly. Deeply moved by those startling
events and being of a highly nervous nature, she spontaneously
sought at my side a protection and security that I was pleased to
give her. Inwardly, I blessed Arsène Lupin. Had he not been the
means of bringing me and Miss Nelly closer to each other? Thanks to
him, I could now indulge in delicious dreams of love and
happiness—dreams that, I felt, were not unwelcome to Miss Nelly.
Her smiling eyes authorized me to make them; the softness of her
voice bade me hope.As we approached the American shore, the active search for
the thief was apparently abandoned, and we were anxiously awaiting
the supreme moment in which the mysterious enigma would be
explained. Who was Arsène Lupin? Under what name, under what
disguise was the famous Arsène Lupin concealing himself? And, at
last, that supreme moment arrived. If I live one hundred years, I
shall not forget the slightest details of it."How pale you are, Miss Nelly," I said to my companion, as
she leaned upon my arm, almost fainting."And you!" she replied, "ah! you are so
changed.""Just think! this is a most exciting moment, and I am
delighted to spend it with you, Miss Nelly. I hope that your memory
will sometimes revert—-"But she was not listening. She was nervous and excited. The
gangway was placed in position, but, before we could use it, the
uniformed customs officers came on board. Miss Nelly
murmured:"I shouldn't be surprised to hear that Arsène Lupin escaped
from the vessel during the voyage.""Perhaps he preferred death to dishonor, and plunged into the
Atlantic rather than be arrested.""Oh, do not laugh," she said.Suddenly I started, and, in answer to her question, I
said:"Do you see that little old man standing at the bottom of the
gangway?""With an umbrella and an olive-green coat?""It is Ganimard.""Ganimard?""Yes, the celebrated detective who has sworn to capture
Arsène Lupin. Ah! I can understand now why we did not receive any
news from this side of the Atlantic. Ganimard was here! and he
always keeps his business secret.""Then you think he will arrest Arsène Lupin?""Who can tell? The unexpected always happens when Arsène
Lupin is concerned in the affair.""Oh!" she exclaimed, with that morbid curiosity peculiar to
women, "I should like to see him arrested.""You will have to be patient. No doubt, Arsène Lupin has
already seen his enemy and will not be in a hurry to leave the
steamer."The passengers were now leaving the steamer. Leaning on his
umbrella, with an air of careless indifference, Ganimard appeared
to be paying no attention to the crowd that was hurrying down the
gangway. The Marquis de Raverdan, Major Rawson, the Italian
Rivolta, and many others had already left the vessel before Rozaine
appeared. Poor Rozaine!"Perhaps it is he, after all," said Miss Nelly to me. "What
do you think?""I think it would be very interesting to have Ganimard and
Rozaine in the same picture. You take the camera. I am loaded
down."I gave her the camera, but too late for her to use it.
Rozaine was already passing the detective. An American officer,
standing behind Ganimard, leaned forward and whispered in his ear.
The French detective shrugged his shoulders and Rozaine passed on.
Then, my God, who was Arsène Lupin?"Yes," said Miss Nelly, aloud, "who can it be?"Not more than twenty people now remained on board. She
scrutinized them one by one, fearful that Arsène Lupin was not
amongst them."We cannot wait much longer," I said to her.She started toward the gangway. I followed. But we had not
taken ten steps when Ganimard barred our passage."Well, what is it?" I exclaimed."One moment, monsieur. What's your hurry?""I am escorting mademoiselle.""One moment," he repeated, in a tone of authority. Then,
gazing into my eyes, he said:"Arsène Lupin, is it not?"I laughed, and replied: "No, simply Bernard
d'Andrézy.""Bernard d'Andrézy died in Macedonia three years
ago.""If Bernard d'Andrézy were dead, I should not be here. But
you are mistaken. Here are my papers.""They are his; and I can tell you exactly how they came into
your possession.""You are a fool!" I exclaimed. "Arsène Lupin sailed under the
name of R—-""Yes, another of your tricks; a false scent that deceived
them at Havre. You play a good game, my boy, but this time luck is
against you."I hesitated a moment. Then he hit me a sharp blow on the
right arm, which caused me to utter a cry of pain. He had struck
the wound, yet unhealed, referred to in the telegram.I was obliged to surrender. There was no alternative. I
turned to Miss Nelly, who had heard everything. Our eyes met; then
she glanced at the Kodak I had placed in her hands, and made a
gesture that conveyed to me the impression that she understood
everything. Yes, there, between the narrow folds of black leather,
in the hollow centre of the small object that I had taken the
precaution to place in her hands before Ganimard arrested me, it
was there I had deposited Rozaine's twenty thousand francs and Lady
Jerland's pearls and diamonds.Oh! I pledge my oath that, at that solemn moment, when I was
in the grasp of Ganimard and his two assistants, I was perfectly
indifferent to everything, to my arrest, the hostility of the
people, everything except this one question: what will Miss Nelly
do with the things I had confided to her?In the absence of that material and conclusive proof, I had
nothing to fear; but would Miss Nelly decide to furnish that proof?
Would she betray me? Would she act the part of an enemy who cannot
forgive, or that of a woman whose scorn is softened by feelings of
indulgence and involuntary sympathy?She passed in front of me. I said nothing, but bowed very
low. Mingled with the other passengers, she advanced to the gangway
with my Kodak in her hand. It occurred to me that she would not
dare to expose me publicly, but she might do so when she reached a
more private place. However, when she had passed only a few feet
down the gangway, with a movement of simulated awkwardness, she let
the camera fall into the water between the vessel and the pier.
Then she walked down the gangway, and was quickly lost to sight in
the crowd. She had passed out of my life forever.For a moment, I stood motionless. Then, to Ganimard's great
astonishment, I muttered:"What a pity that I am not an honest man!"Such was the story of his arrest as narrated to me by Arsène
Lupin himself. The various incidents, which I shall record in
writing at a later day, have established between us certain
ties.... shall I say of friendship? Yes, I venture to believe that
Arsène Lupin honors me with his friendship, and that it is through
friendship that he occasionally calls on me, and brings, into the
silence of my library, his youthful exuberance of spirits, the
contagion of his enthusiasm, and the mirth of a man for whom
destiny has naught but favors and smiles.His portrait? How can I describe him? I have seen him twenty
times and each time he was a different person; even he himself said
to me on one occasion: "I no longer know who I am. I cannot
recognize myself in the mirror." Certainly, he was a great actor,
and possessed a marvelous faculty for disguising himself. Without
the slightest effort, he could adopt the voice, gestures and
mannerisms of another person."Why," said he, "why should I retain a definite form and
feature? Why not avoid the danger of a personality that is ever the
same? My actions will serve to identify me."Then he added, with a touch of pride:"So much the better if no one can ever say with absolute
certainty: There is Arsène Lupin! The essential point is that the
public may be able to refer to my work and say, without fear of
mistake: Arsène Lupin did that!"
II. Arsène Lupin in Prison
There is no tourist worthy of the name who does not know the
banks of the Seine, and has not noticed, in passing, the little
feudal castle of the Malaquis, built upon a rock in the centre of
the river. An arched bridge connects it with the shore. All around
it, the calm waters of the great river play peacefully amongst the
reeds, and the wagtails flutter over the moist crests of the
stones.
The history of the Malaquis castle is stormy like its name,
harsh like its outlines. It has passed through a long series of
combats, sieges, assaults, rapines and massacres. A recital of the
crimes that have been committed there would cause the stoutest
heart to tremble. There are many mysterious legends connected with
the castle, and they tell us of a famous subterranean tunnel that
formerly led to the abbey of Jumieges and to the manor of Agnes
Sorel, mistress of Charles VII.
In that ancient habitation of heroes and brigands, the Baron
Nathan Cahorn now lived; or Baron Satan as he was formerly called
on the Bourse, where he had acquired a fortune with incredible
rapidity. The lords of Malaquis, absolutely ruined, had been
obliged to sell the ancient castle at a great sacrifice. It
contained an admirable collection of furniture, pictures, wood
carvings, and faience. The Baron lived there alone, attended by
three old servants. No one ever enters the place. No one had ever
beheld the three Rubens that he possessed, his two Watteau, his
Jean Goujon pulpit, and the many other treasures that he had
acquired by a vast expenditure of money at public sales.
Baron Satan lived in constant fear, not for himself, but for
the treasures that he had accumulated with such an earnest devotion
and with so much perspicacity that the shrewdest merchant could not
say that the Baron had ever erred in his taste or judgment. He
loved them—his bibelots. He loved them intensely, like a miser;
jealously, like a lover. Every day, at sunset, the iron gates at
either end of the bridge and at the entrance to the court of honor
are closed and barred. At the least touch on these gates, electric
bells will ring throughout the castle.
One Thursday in September, a letter-carrier presented himself
at the gate at the head of the bridge, and, as usual, it was the
Baron himself who partially opened the heavy portal. He scrutinized
the man as minutely as if he were a stranger, although the honest
face and twinkling eyes of the postman had been familiar to the
Baron for many years. The man laughed, as he said:
"It is only I, Monsieur le Baron. It is not another man
wearing my cap and blouse."
"One can never tell," muttered the Baron.
The man handed him a number of newspapers, and then
said:
"And now, Monsieur le Baron, here is something new."
"Something new?"
"Yes, a letter. A registered letter."
Living as a recluse, without friends or business relations,
the baron never received any letters, and the one now presented to
him immediately aroused within him a feeling of suspicion and
distrust. It was like an evil omen. Who was this mysterious
correspondent that dared to disturb the tranquility of his
retreat?
"You must sign for it, Monsieur le Baron."
He signed; then took the letter, waited until the postman had
disappeared beyond the bend in the road, and, after walking
nervously to and fro for a few minutes, he leaned against the
parapet of the bridge and opened the envelope. It contained a sheet
of paper, bearing this heading: Prison de la Santé, Paris. He
looked at the signature: Arsène Lupin. Then he read:
"Monsieur le Baron: "There is, in the gallery in your castle, a picture of
Philippe de Champaigne, of exquisite finish, which pleases me
beyond measure. Your Rubens are also to my taste, as
well as your smallest Watteau. In the salon to the right, I
have noticed the Louis XIII cadence-table, the tapestries of Beauvais,
the Empire gueridon signed `Jacob,' and the Renaissance
chest. In the salon to the left, all the cabinet full of jewels and
miniatures. "For the present, I will content myself with those
articles that can be conveniently removed. I will therefore
ask you to pack them carefully and ship them to me, charges prepaid,
to the station at Batignolles, within eight days, otherwise I
shall be obliged to remove them myself during the night of 27
September; but, under those circumstances, I shall not content
myself with the articles above mentioned. "Accept my apologies for any inconvenience I may cause
you, and believe me to be your humble servant,
"Arsène Lupin." "P. S.—Please do not send the largest Watteau.
Although you paid thirty thousand francs for it, it is only a copy,
the original having been burned, under the Directoire by
Barras, during a night of debauchery. Consult the
memoirs of Garat. "I do not care for the Louis XV chatelaine, as I doubt
its authenticity."
That letter completely upset the baron. Had it borne any
other signature, he would have been greatly alarmed—but signed by
Arsène Lupin!
As an habitual reader of the newspapers, he was versed in the
history of recent crimes, and was therefore well acquainted with
the exploits of the mysterious burglar. Of course, he knew that
Lupin had been arrested in America by his enemy Ganimard and was at
present incarcerated in the Prison de la Santé. But he knew also
that any miracle might be expected from Arsène Lupin. Moreover,
that exact knowledge of the castle, the location of the pictures
and furniture, gave the affair an alarming aspect. How could he
have acquired that information concerning things that no one had
ever seen?
The baron raised his eyes and contemplated the stern outlines
of the castle, its steep rocky pedestal, the depth of the
surrounding water, and shrugged his shoulders. Certainly, there was
no danger. No one in the world could force an entrance to the
sanctuary that contained his priceless treasures.
No one, perhaps, but Arsène Lupin! For him, gates, walls and
drawbridges did not exist. What use were the most formidable
obstacles or the most careful precautions, if Arsène Lupin had
decided to effect an entrance?
That evening, he wrote to the Procurer of the Republique at
Rouen. He enclosed the threatening letter and solicited aid and
protection.
