The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Burglar
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 stem 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 then 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