The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Burglar
Moreover, I was tired and sleepy. I felt my eyelids close and my head
drop.
“But, monsieur, you are not going to sleep!”
She seized my newspaper, and looked at me with indignation.
“Certainly not,” I said.
“That would be very imprudent.”
“Of course,” I assented.
I struggled to keep awake. I looked through the window at the landscape
and the fleeting clouds, but in a short time all that became confused
and indistinct; the image of the nervous lady and the drowsy gentleman
were effaced from my memory, and I was buried in the soothing depths of
a profound sleep. The tranquility of my response was soon disturbed by
disquieting dreams, wherein a creature that had played the part and bore
the name of Arsène Lupin held an important place. He appeared to me
with his back laden with articles of value; he leaped over walls, and
plundered castles. But the outlines of that creature, who was no longer
Arsène Lupin, assumed a more definite form. He came toward me, growing
larger and larger, leaped into the compartment with incredible agility,
and landed squarely on my chest. With a cry of fright and pain, I awoke.
The man, the traveller, our companion, with his knee on my breast, held
me by the throat.
My sight was very indistinct, for my eyes were suffused with blood.
I could see the lady, in a corner of the compartment, convulsed
with fright. I tried even not to resist. Besides, I did not have the
strength. My temples throbbed; I was almost strangled. One minute more,
and I would have breathed my last. The man must have realized it, for he
relaxed his grip, but did not remove his hand. Then he took a cord, in
which he had prepared a slip-knot, and tied my wrists together. In an
instant, I was bound, gagged, and helpless.
Certainly, he accomplished the trick with an ease and skill that
revealed the hand of a master; he was, no doubt, a professional thief.
Not a word, not a nervous movement; only coolness and audacity. And I
was there, lying on the bench, bound like a mummy, I--Arsène Lupin!
It was anything but a laughing matter, and yet, despite the gravity
of the situation, I keenly appreciated the humor and irony that it
involved. Arsène Lupin seized and bound like a novice! robbed as if I
were an unsophisticated rustic--for, you must understand, the scoundrel
had deprived me of my purse and wallet! Arsène Lupin, a victim, duped,
vanquished....What an adventure!
The lady did not move. He did not even notice her. He contented himself
with picking up her traveling-bag that had fallen to the floor and
taking from it the jewels, purse, and gold and silver trinkets that it
contained. The lady opened her eyes, trembled with fear, drew the rings
from her fingers and handed them to the man as if she wished to spare
him unnecessary trouble. He took the rings and looked at her. She
swooned.
Then, quite unruffled, he resumed his seat, lighted a cigarette, and
proceeded to examine the treasure that he had acquired. The examination
appeared to give him perfect satisfaction.
But I was not so well satisfied. I do not speak of the twelve thousand
francs of which I had been unduly deprived: that was only a temporary
loss, because I was certain that I would recover possession of that
money after a very brief delay, together with the important papers
contained in my wallet: plans, specifications, addresses, lists of
correspondents, and compromising letters. But, for the moment, a more
immediate and more serious question troubled me: How would this affair
end? What would be the outcome of this adventure?
As you can imagine, the disturbance created by my passage through the
Saint-Lazare station has not escaped my notice. Going to visit friends
who knew me under the name of Guillaume Berlat, and amongst whom my
resemblance to Arsène Lupin was a subject of many innocent jests, I
could not assume a disguise, and my presence had been remarked.
So, beyond question, the commissary of police at Rouen, notified by
telegraph, and assisted by numerous agents, would be awaiting the train,
would question all suspicious passengers, and proceed to search the
cars.
Of course, I had foreseen all that, but it had not disturbed me, as I
was certain that the police of Rouen would not be any shrewder than the
police of Paris and that I could escape recognition; would it not be
sufficient for me to carelessly display my card as “député,” thanks
to which I had inspired complete confidence in the gate-keeper at
Saint-Lazare?--But the situation was greatly changed. I was no longer
free. It was impossible to attempt one of my usual tricks. In one of
the compartments, the commissary of police would find Mon. Arsène Lupin,
bound hand and foot, as docile as a lamb, packed up, all ready to be
dumped into a prison-van. He would have simply to accept delivery of the
parcel, the same as if it were so much merchandise or a basket of fruit
and vegetables. Yet, to avoid that shameful dénouement, what could I
do?--bound and gagged, as I was? And the train was rushing on toward
Rouen, the next and only station.
Another problem was presented, in which I was less interested, but
the solution of which aroused my professional curiosity. What were the
intentions of my rascally companion? Of course, if I had been alone, he
could, on our arrival at Rouen, leave the car slowly and fearlessly. But
the lady? As soon as the door of the compartment should be opened, the
lady, now so quiet and humble, would scream and call for help. That was
the dilemma that perplexed me! Why had he not reduced her to a helpless
condition similar to mine? That would have given him ample time to
disappear before his double crime was discovered.
He was still smoking, with his eyes fixed upon the window that was
now being streaked with drops of rain. Once he turned, picked up my
time-table, and consulted it.
The lady had to feign a continued lack of consciousness in order to
deceive the enemy. But fits of coughing, provoked by the smoke, exposed
her true condition. As to me, I was very uncomfortable, and very tired.
And I meditated; I plotted.
The train was rushing on, joyously, intoxicated with its own speed.
Saint Etienne!....At that moment, the man arose and took two steps
toward us, which caused the lady to utter a cry of alarm and fall into
a genuine swoon. What was the man about to do? He lowered the window
on our side. A heavy rain was now falling, and, by a gesture, the man
expressed his annoyance at his not having an umbrella or an overcoat. He
glanced at the rack. The lady’s umbrella was there. He took it. He also
took my overcoat and put it on.
We were now crossing the Seine. He turned up the bottoms of his
trousers, then leaned over and raised the exterior latch of the door.
Was he going to throw himself upon the track? At that speed, it would
have been instant death. We now entered a tunnel. The man opened the
door half-way and stood on the upper step. What folly! The darkness, the
smoke, the noise, all gave a fantastic appearance to his actions. But
suddenly, the train diminished its speed. A moment later it increased
its speed, then slowed up again. Probably, some repairs were being made
in that part of the tunnel which obliged the trains to diminish their
speed, and the man was aware of the fact. He immediately stepped down to
the lower step, closed the door behind him, and leaped to the ground. He
was gone.
The lady immediately recovered her wits, and her first act was to lament
the loss of her jewels. I gave her an imploring look. She understood,
and quickly removed the gag that stifled me. She wished to untie the
cords that bound me, but I prevented her.
“No, no, the police must see everything exactly as it stands. I want
them to see what the rascal did to us.”
“Suppose I pull the alarm-bell?”
“Too late. You should have done that when he made the attack on me.”
“But he would have killed me. Ah! monsieur, didn’t I tell you that he
was on this train. I recognized him from his portrait. And now he has
gone off with my jewels.”
“Don’t worry. The police will catch him.”
“Catch Arsène Lupin! Never.”
“That depends on you, madame. Listen. When we arrive at Rouen, be at the
door and call. Make a noise. The police and the railway employees will
come. Tell what you have seen: the assault made on me and the flight of
Arsène Lupin. Give a description of him--soft hat, umbrella--yours--gray
overcoat....”
“Yours,” said she.
“What! mine? Not at all. It was his. I didn’t have any.”
“It seems to me he didn’t have one when he came in.”
“Yes, yes.... unless the coat was one that some one had forgotten and
left in the rack. At all events, he had it when he went away, and that
is the essential point. A gray overcoat--remember!....Ah! I forgot.
You must tell your name, first thing you do. Your husband’s official
position will stimulate the zeal of the police.”
We arrived at the station. I gave her some further instructions in a
rather imperious tone:
“Tell them my name--Guillaume Berlat. If necessary, say that you know
me. That will save time. We must expedite the preliminary investigation.
The important thing is the pursuit of Arsène Lupin. Your jewels,
remember! Let there be no mistake. Guillaume Berlat, a friend of your
husband.”
“I understand....Guillaume Berlat.”
She was already calling and gesticulating. As soon as the train stopped,
several men entered the compartment. The critical moment had come.
Panting for breath, the lady exclaimed:
“Arsène Lupin.... he attacked us.... he stole my jewels....I am Madame
Renaud.... my husband is a director of the penitentiary service....Ah!
here is my brother, Georges Ardelle, director of the Crédit
Rouennais.... you must know....”
She embraced a young man who had just joined us, and whom the commissary
saluted. Then she continued, weeping:
“Yes, Arsène Lupin.... while monsieur was sleeping, he seized him by the
throat....Mon. Berlat, a friend of my husband.”
The commissary asked:
“But where is Arsène Lupin?”
“He leaped from the train, when passing through the tunnel.”
“Are you sure that it was he?”
“Am I sure! I recognized him perfectly. Besides, he was seen at the
Saint-Lazare station. He wore a soft hat---”
“No, a hard felt, like that,” said the commissary, pointing to my hat.
“He had a soft hat, I am sure,” repeated Madame Renaud, “and a gray
overcoat.”
“Yes, that is right,” replied the commissary, “the telegram says he wore
a gray overcoat with a black velvet collar.”
“Exactly, a black velvet collar,” exclaimed Madame Renaud, triumphantly.
I breathed freely. Ah! the excellent friend I had in that little woman.
The police agents had now released me. I bit my lips until they ran
blood. Stooping over, with my handkerchief over my mouth, an attitude
quite natural in a person who has remained for a long time in an
uncomfortable position, and whose mouth shows the bloody marks of the
gag, I addressed the commissary, in a weak voice:
“Monsieur, it was Arsène Lupin. There is no doubt about that. If we make
haste, he can be caught yet. I think I may be of some service to you.”
The railway car, in which the crime occurred, was detached from the
train to serve as a mute witness at the official investigation. The
train continued on its way to Havre. We were then conducted to the
station-master’s office through a crowd of curious spectators.
Then, I had a sudden access of doubt and discretion. Under some pretext
or other, I must gain my automobile, and escape. To remain there was
dangerous. Something might happen; for instance, a telegram from Paris,
and I would be lost.
Yes, but what about my thief? Abandoned to my own resources, in an
unfamiliar country, I could not hope to catch him.