The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Burglar
face. Suddenly, he leaped from the chair and walked away from it. He had
heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Mon. Andermatt appeared at the
door.
“You! You!” exclaimed the banker. “Was it you who brought me here?”
“I? By no means,” protested Varin, in a rough, jerky voice that reminded
me of his brother, “on the contrary, it was your letter that brought me
here.”
“My letter?”
“A letter signed by you, in which you offered---”
“I never wrote to you,” declared Mon. Andermatt.
“You did not write to me!”
Instinctively, Varin was put on his guard, not against the banker, but
against the unknown enemy who had drawn him into this trap. A second
time, he looked in our direction, then walked toward the door. But Mon.
Andermatt barred his passage.
“Well, where are you going, Varin?”
“There is something about this affair I don’t like. I am going home.
Good evening.”
“One moment!”
“No need of that, Mon. Andermatt. I have nothing to say to you.”
“But I have something to say to you, and this is a good time to say it.”
“Let me pass.”
“No, you will not pass.”
Varin recoiled before the resolute attitude of the banker, as he
muttered:
“Well, then, be quick about it.”
One thing astonished me; and I have no doubt my two companions
experienced a similar feeling. Why was Salvator not there? Was he not a
necessary party at this conference? Or was he satisfied to let these two
adversaries fight it out between themselves? At all events, his absence
was a great disappointment, although it did not detract from the
dramatic strength of the situation.
After a moment, Mon. Andermatt approached Varin and, face to face, eye
to eye, said:
“Now, after all these years and when you have nothing more to fear, you
can answer me candidly: What have you done with Louis Lacombe?”
“What a question! As if I knew anything about him!”
“You do know! You and your brother were his constant companions, almost
lived with him in this very house. You knew all about his plans and his
work. And the last night I ever saw Louis Lacombe, when I parted with
him at my door, I saw two men slinking away in the shadows of the trees.
That, I am ready to swear to.”
“Well, what has that to do with me?”
“The two men were you and your brother.”
“Prove it.”
“The best proof is that, two days later, you yourself showed me the
papers and the plans that belonged to Lacombe and offered to sell them.
How did these papers come into your possession?”
“I have already told you, Mon. Andermatt, that we found them on Louis
Lacombe’s table, the morning after his disappearance.”
“That is a lie!”
“Prove it.”
“The law will prove it.”
“Why did you not appeal to the law?”
“Why? Ah! Why---,” stammered the banker, with a slight display of
emotion.
“You know very well, Mon. Andermatt, if you had the least certainty of
our guilt, our little threat would not have stopped you.”
“What threat? Those letters? Do you suppose I ever gave those letters a
moment’s thought?”
“If you did not care for the letters, why did you offer me thousands of
francs for their return? And why did you have my brother and me tracked
like wild beasts?”
“To recover the plans.”
“Nonsense! You wanted the letters. You knew that as soon as you had the
letters in your possession, you could denounce us. Oh! no, I couldn’t
part with them!”
He laughed heartily, but stopped suddenly, and said:
“But, enough of this! We are merely going over old ground. We make no
headway. We had better let things stand as they are.”
“We will not let them stand as they are,” said the banker, “and since
you have referred to the letters, let me tell you that you will not
leave this house until you deliver up those letters.”
“I shall go when I please.”
“You will not.”
“Be careful, Mon. Andermatt. I warn you---”
“I say, you shall not go.”
“We will see about that,” cried Varin, in such a rage that Madame
Andermatt could not suppress a cry of fear. Varin must have heard it,
for he now tried to force his way out. Mon. Andermatt pushed him back.
Then I saw him put his hand into his coat pocket.
“For the last time, let me pass,” he cried.
“The letters, first!”
Varin drew a revolver and, pointing it at Mon. Andermatt, said:
“Yes or no?”
The banker stooped quickly. There was the sound of a pistol-shot. The
weapon fell from Varin’s hand. I was amazed. The shot was fired close
to me. It was Daspry who had fired it at Varin, causing him to drop the
revolver. In a moment, Daspry was standing between the two men, facing
Varin; he said to him, with a sneer:
“You were lucky, my friend, very lucky. I fired at your hand and struck
only the revolver.”
Both of them looked at him, surprised. Then he turned to the banker, and
said:
“I beg your pardon, monsieur, for meddling in your business; but,
really, you play a very poor game. Let me hold the cards.”
Turning again to Varin, Daspry said:
“It’s between us two, comrade, and play fair, if you please. Hearts are
trumps, and I play the seven.”
Then Daspry held up, before Varin’s bewildered eyes, the little iron
plate, marked with the seven red spots. It was a terrible shock to
Varin. With livid features, staring eyes, and an air of intense agony,
the man seemed to be hypnotized at the sight of it.
“Who are you?” he gasped.
“One who meddles in other people’s business, down to the very bottom.”
“What do you want?”
“What you brought here tonight.”
“I brought nothing.”
“Yes, you did, or you wouldn’t have come. This morning, you received
an invitation to come here at nine o’clock, and bring with you all the
papers held by you. You are here. Where are the papers?”
There was in Daspry’s voice and manner a tone of authority that I did
not understand; his manner was usually quite mild and conciliatory.
Absolutely conquered, Varin placed his hand on one of his pockets, and
said:
“The papers are here.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“All that you took from Louis Lacombe and afterwards sold to Major von
Lieben?”
“Yes.”
“Are these the copies or the originals?”
“I have the originals.”
“How much do you want for them?”
“One hundred thousand francs.”
“You are crazy,” said Daspry. “Why, the major gave you only twenty
thousand, and that was like money thrown into the sea, as the boat was a
failure at the preliminary trials.”
“They didn’t understand the plans.”
“The plans are not complete.”
“Then, why do you ask me for them?”
“Because I want them. I offer you five thousand francs--not a sou more.”
“Ten thousand. Not a sou less.”
“Agreed,” said Daspry, who now turned to Mon. Andermatt, and said:
“Monsieur will kindly sign a check for the amount.”
“But....I haven’t got---”
“Your check-book? Here it is.”
Astounded, Mon. Andermatt examined the check-book that Daspry handed to
him.
“It is mine,” he gasped. “How does that happen?”
“No idle words, monsieur, if you please. You have merely to sign.”
The banker took out his fountain pen, filled out the check and signed
it. Varin held out his hand for it.
“Put down your hand,” said Daspry, “there is something more.” Then, to
the banker, he said: “You asked for some letters, did you not?”
“Yes, a package of letters.”
“Where are they, Varin?”
“I haven’t got them.”
“Where are they, Varin?”
“I don’t know. My brother had charge of them.”
“They are hidden in this room.”
“In that case, you know where they are.”
“How should I know?”
“Was it not you who found the hiding-place? You appear to be as well
informed.... as Salvator.”
“The letters are not in the hiding-place.”
“They are.”
“Open it.”
Varin looked at him, defiantly. Were not Daspry and Salvator the same
person? Everything pointed to that conclusion. If so, Varin risked
nothing in disclosing a hiding-place already known.
“Open it,” repeated Daspry.
“I have not got the seven of hearts.”
“Yes, here it is,” said Daspry, handing him the iron plate. Varin
recoiled in terror, and cried:
“No, no, I will not.”
“Never mind,” replied Daspry, as he walked toward the bearded king,
climbed on a chair and applied the seven of hearts to the lower part of
the sword in such a manner that the edges of the iron plate coincided
exactly with the two edges of the sword. Then, with the assistance of
an awl which he introduced alternately into each of the seven holes, he
pressed upon seven of the little mosaic stones. As he pressed upon the
seventh one, a clicking sound was heard, and the entire bust of the King
turned upon a pivot, disclosing a large opening lined with steel. It was
really a fire-proof safe.
“You can see, Varin, the safe is empty.”
“So I see. Then, my brother has taken out the letters.”
Daspry stepped down from the chair, approached Varin, and said:
“Now, no more nonsense with me. There is another hiding-place. Where is
it?”
“There is none.”
“Is it money you want? How much?”
“Ten thousand.”
“Monsieur Andermatt, are those letters worth ten thousand francs to
you?”
“Yes,” said the banker, firmly.
Varin closed the safe, took the seven of hearts and placed it again on
the sword at the same spot. He thrust the awl into each of the seven
holes. There was the same clicking sound, but this time, strange to
relate, it was only a portion of the safe that revolved on the pivot,
disclosing quite a small safe that was built within the door of the
larger one. The packet of letters was here, tied with a tape, and
sealed. Varin handed the packet to Daspry. The latter turned to the
banker, and asked:
“Is the check ready, Monsieur Andermatt?”
“Yes.”
“And you have also the last document that you received from Louis
Lacombe--the one that completes the plans of the sub-marine?”
“Yes.”
The exchange was made. Daspry pocketed the document and the checks, and
offered the packet of letters to Mon. Andermatt.
“This is what you wanted, Monsieur.”
The banker hesitated a moment, as if he were afraid to touch those
cursed letters that he had sought so eagerly. Then, with a nervous
movement, he took them. Close to me, I heard a moan. I grasped Madame
Andermatt’s hand. It was cold.
“I believe, monsieur,” said Daspry to the banker, “that our business is
ended. Oh! no thanks. It was only by a mere chance that I have been able
to do you a good turn. Good-night.”
Mon. Andermatt retired. He carried with him the letters written by his
wife to Louis Lacombe.
“Marvelous!” exclaimed Daspry, delighted. “Everything is coming our
way. Now, we have only to close our little affair, comrade. You have the
papers?”
“Here they are--all of them.”
Daspry examined them carefully, and then placed them in his pocket.
“Quite right. You have kept your word,” he said.
“But---”
“But what?”
“The two checks? The money?” said Varin, eagerly.
“Well, you have a great deal of assurance, my man. How dare you ask such
a thing?”
“I ask only what is due to me.”
“Can you ask pay for returning papers that you stole? Well, I think
not!”
Varin was beside himself. He trembled with rage; his eyes were
bloodshot.
“The money.... the twenty thousand....” he stammered.
“Impossible! I need it myself.”
“The money!”
“Come, be reasonable, and don’t get excited. It won’t do you any good.”
Daspry seized his arm so forcibly, that Varin uttered a cry of pain.
Daspry continued:
“Now, you can go. The air will do you good. Perhaps you want me to show
you the way. Ah! yes, we will go together to the vacant lot near here,
and I will show you a little mound of earth and stones and under it---”
“That is false! That is false!”
“Oh! no, it is true. That little iron plate with the seven spots on it
came from there. Louis Lacombe always carried it, and you buried it with