The Confessions of Arsène Lupin (3 page)

“Do you really mean it? Quick, I entreat you …”

He pushed forward a chair. Lupin sat down and began:

“Monsieur le baron, the circumstances are very serious. I will be brief.”

“Yes, do, please.”

“Well, monsieur le baron, in a few words, it amounts to this: five or six hours ago, Lavernoux, who, for the last fortnight, had been kept in a sort of enforced confinement by his doctor, Lavernoux—how shall I put it?—telegraphed certain revelations by means of signals which were partly taken down by me and which put me on the track of this case. He himself was surprised in the act of making this communication and was murdered.”

“But by whom? By whom?”

“By his doctor.”

“Who is this doctor?”

“I don’t know. But one of M. Lavernoux’s friends, an Englishman called Hargrove, the friend, in fact, with whom he was communicating, is bound to know and is also bound to know the exact and complete meaning of the communication, because, without waiting for the end, he jumped into a motor-cab and drove to the Prefecture of Police.”

“Why? Why? … And what is the result of that step?”

“The result, monsieur le baron, is that your house is surrounded. There are twelve detectives under your windows. The moment the sun rises, they will enter in the name of the law and arrest the criminal.”

“Then is Lavernoux’s murderer concealed in my house? Who is he? One of the servants? But no, for you were speaking of a doctor! …”

“I would remark, monsieur le baron, that when this Mr. Hargrove went to the police to tell them of the revelations made by his friend Lavernoux, he was not aware that his friend Lavernoux was going to be murdered. The step taken by Mr Hargrove had to do with something else …”

“With what?”

“With the disappearance of madame la baronne, of which he knew the secret, thanks to the communication made by Lavernoux.”

“What! They know at last! They have found the baroness! Where is she? And the jewels? And the money she robbed me of?”

Baron Repstein was talking in a great state of excitement. He rose and, almost shouting at Lupin, cried:

“Finish your story, sir! I can’t endure this suspense!”

Lupin continued, in a slow and hesitating voice:

“The fact is … you see … it is rather difficult to explain … for you and I are looking at the thing from a totally different point of view.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And yet you ought to understand, monsieur le baron … We begin by saying—I am quoting the newspapers—by saying, do we not, that Baroness Repstein knew all the secrets of your business and that she was able to open not only that safe over there, but also the one at the Crédit Lyonnais in which you kept your securities locked up?”

“Yes.”

“Well, one evening, a fortnight ago, while you were at your club, Baroness Repstein, who, unknown to yourself, had converted all those securities into cash, left this house with a travelling-bag, containing your money and all the Princesse de Berny’s jewels?”

“Yes.”

“And, since then, she has not been seen?”

“No.”

“Well, there is an excellent reason why she has not been seen.”

“What reason?”

“This, that Baroness Repstein has been murdered …”

“Murdered! … The baroness! … But you’re mad!”

“Murdered … and probably that same evening.”

“I tell you again, you are mad! How can the baroness have been murdered, when the police are following her tracks, so to speak, step by step?”

“They are following the tracks of another woman.”

“What woman?”

“The murderer’s accomplice.”

“And who is the murderer?”

“The same man who, for the last fortnight, knowing that Lavernoux, through the situation which he occupied in this house, had discovered the truth, kept him imprisoned, forced him to silence, threatened him, terrorized him; the same man who, finding Lavernoux in the act of communicating with a friend, made away with him in cold blood by stabbing him to the heart.”

“The doctor, therefore?”

“Yes.”

“But who is this doctor? Who is this malevolent genius, this infernal being who appears and disappears, who slays in the dark and whom nobody suspects?”

“Can’t you guess?”

“No.”

“And do you want to know?”

“Do I want to know? … Why, speak, man, speak! … You know where he is hiding?”

“Yes.”

“In this house?”

“Yes.”

“And it is he whom the police are after?”

“Yes.”

“And I know him?”

“Yes.”

“Who is it?”

“You!”

“I! …”

Lupin had not been more than ten minutes with the baron; and the duel was commencing. The accusation was hurled, definitely, violently, implacably.

Lupin repeated:

“You yourself, got up in a false beard and a pair of spectacles, bent in two, like an old man. In short, you, Baron Repstein; and it is you for a very good reason, of which nobody has thought, which is that, if it was not you who contrived the whole plot, the case becomes inexplicable. Whereas, taking you as the criminal, you as murdering the baroness in order to get rid of her and run through those millions with another woman, you as murdering Lavernoux, your agent, in order to suppress an unimpeachable witness, oh, then the whole case is explained! Well, is it pretty clear? And are not you yourself convinced?”

The baron, who, throughout this conversation, had stood bending over his visitor, waiting for each of his words with feverish avidity, now drew himself up and looked at Lupin as though he undoubtedly had to do with a madman. When Lupin had finished speaking, the baron stepped back two or three paces, seemed on the point of uttering words which he ended by not saying, and then, without taking his eyes from his strange visitor, went to the fireplace and rang the bell.

Lupin did not make a movement. He waited smiling.

The butler entered. His master said:

“You can go to bed, Antoine. I will let this gentleman out.”

“Shall I put out the lights, sir?”

“Leave a light in the hall.”

Antoine left the room and the baron, after taking a revolver from his desk, at once came back to Lupin, put the weapon in his pocket and said, very calmly:

“You must excuse this little precaution, sir. I am obliged to take it in case you should be mad, though that does not seem likely. No, you are not mad. But you have come here with an object which I fail to grasp; and you have sprung upon me an accusation of so astounding a character that I am curious to know the reason. I have experienced so much disappointment and undergone so much suffering that an outrage of this kind leaves me indifferent. Continue, please.”

His voice shook with emotion and his sad eyes seemed moist with tears.

Lupin shuddered. Had he made a mistake? Was the surmise which his intuition had suggested to him and which was based upon a frail groundwork of slight facts, was this surmise wrong?

His attention was caught by a detail: through the opening in the baron’s waistcoat he saw the point of the pin fixed in the tie and was thus able to realize the unusual length of the pin. Moreover, the gold stem was triangular and formed a sort of miniature dagger, very thin and very delicate, yet formidable in an expert hand.

And Lupin had no doubt but that the pin attached to that magnificent pearl was the weapon which had pierced the heart of the unfortunate M. Lavernoux.

He muttered:

“You’re jolly clever, monsieur le baron!”

The other, maintaining a rather scornful gravity, kept silence, as though he did not understand and as though waiting for the explanation to which he felt himself entitled. And, in spite of everything, this impassive attitude worried Arsène Lupin. Nevertheless, his conviction was so profound and, besides, he had staked so much on the adventure that he repeated:

“Yes, jolly clever, for it is evident that the baroness only obeyed your orders in realizing your securities and also in borrowing the princess’s jewels on the pretence of buying them. And it is evident that the person who walked out of your house with a bag was not your wife, but an accomplice, that chorus-girl probably, and that it is your chorus-girl who is deliberately allowing herself to be chased across the continent by our worthy Ganimard. And I look upon the trick as marvellous. What does the woman risk, seeing that it is the baroness who is being looked for? And how could they look for any other woman than the baroness, seeing that you have promised a reward of two hundred thousand francs to the person who finds the baroness? … Oh, that two hundred thousand francs lodged with a solicitor: what a stroke of genius! It has dazzled the police! It has thrown dust in the eyes of the most clear-sighted! A gentleman who lodges two hundred thousand francs with a solicitor is a gentleman who speaks the truth … So they go on hunting the baroness! And they leave you quietly to settle your affairs, to sell your stud and your two houses to the highest bidder and to prepare your flight! Heavens, what a joke!”

The baron did not wince. He walked up to Lupin and asked, without abandoning his imperturbable coolness:

“Who are you?”

Lupin burst out laughing.

“What can it matter who I am? Take it that I am an emissary of fate, looming out of the darkness for your destruction!”

He sprang from his chair, seized the baron by the shoulder and jerked out:

“Yes, for your destruction, my bold baron! Listen to me! Your wife’s three millions, almost all the princess’s jewels, the money you received to-day from the sale of your stud and your real estate: it’s all there, in your pocket, or in that safe. Your flight is prepared. Look, I can see the leather of your portmanteau behind that hanging. The papers on your desk are in order. This very night, you would have done a guy. This very night, disguised beyond recognition, after taking all your precautions, you would have joined your chorus-girl, the creature for whose sake you have committed murder, that same Nelly Darbal, no doubt, whom Ganimard arrested in Belgium. But for one sudden, unforeseen obstacle: the police, the twelve detectives who, thanks to Lavernoux’s revelations, have been posted under your windows. They’ve cooked your goose, old chap! … Well, I’ll save you. A word through the telephone; and, by three or four o’clock in the morning, twenty of my friends will have removed the obstacle, polished off the twelve detectives, and you and I will slip away quietly. My conditions? Almost nothing; a trifle to you: we share the millions and the jewels. Is it a bargain?”

He was leaning over the baron, thundering at him with irresistible energy. The baron whispered:

“I’m beginning to understand. It’s blackmail …”

“Blackmail or not, call it what you please, my boy, but you’ve got to go through with it and do as I say. And don’t imagine that I shall give way at the last moment. Don’t say to yourself, ‘Here’s a gentleman whom the fear of the police will cause to think twice. If I run a big risk in refusing, he also will be risking the handcuffs, the cells and the rest of it, seeing that we are both being hunted down like wild beasts.’ That would be a mistake, monsieur le baron. I can always get out of it. It’s a question of yourself, of yourself alone … Your money or your life, my lord! Share and share alike … if not, the scaffold! Is it a bargain?”

A quick movement. The baron released himself, grasped his revolver and fired.

But Lupin was prepared for the attack, the more so as the baron’s face had lost its assurance and gradually, under the slow impulse of rage and fear, acquired an expression of almost bestial ferocity that heralded the rebellion so long kept under control.

He fired twice. Lupin first flung himself to one side and then dived at the baron’s knees, seized him by both legs and brought him to the ground. The baron freed himself with an effort. The two enemies rolled over in each other’s grip; and a stubborn, crafty, brutal, savage struggle followed.

Suddenly, Lupin felt a pain at his chest:

“You villain!” he yelled. “That’s your Lavernoux trick; the tie-pin!”

Stiffening his muscles with a desperate effort, he overpowered the baron and clutched him by the throat victorious at last and omnipotent.

“You ass!” he cried. “If you hadn’t shown your cards, I might have thrown up the game! You have such a look of the honest man about you! But what a biceps, my lord! … I thought for a moment … But it’s all over, now! … Come, my friend, hand us the pin and look cheerful … No, that’s what I call pulling a face … I’m holding you too tight, perhaps? My lord’s at his last gasp? … Come, be good! … That’s it, just a wee bit of string round the wrists; do you allow me? … Why, you and I are agreeing like two brothers! It’s touching! … At heart, you know, I’m rather fond of you … And now, my bonnie lad, mind yourself! And a thousand apologies! …”

Half raising himself, with all his strength he caught the other a terrible blow in the pit of the stomach. The baron gave a gurgle and lay stunned and unconscious.

“That comes of having a deficient sense of logic, my friend,” said Lupin. “I offered you half your money. Now I’ll give you none at all … provided I know where to find any of it. For that’s the main thing. Where has the beggar hidden his dust? In the safe? By George, it’ll be a tough job! Luckily, I have all the night before me …”

He began to feel in the baron’s pockets, came upon a bunch of keys, first made sure that the portmanteau behind the curtain held no papers or jewels, and then went to the safe.

But, at that moment, he stopped short: he heard a noise somewhere. The servants? Impossible. Their attics were on the top floor. He listened. The noise came from below. And, suddenly, he understood: the detectives, who had heard the two shots, were banging at the front door, as was their duty, without waiting for daybreak. Then an electric bell rang, which Lupin recognized as that in the hall:

“By Jupiter!” he said. “Pretty work! Here are these jokers coming … and just as we were about to gather the fruits of our laborious efforts! Tut, tut, Lupin, keep cool! What’s expected of you? To open a safe, of which you don’t know the secret, in thirty seconds. That’s a mere trifle to lose your head about! Come, all you have to do is to discover the secret! How many letters are there in the word? Four?”