The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Burglar
“Come, Ganimard, that is absurd. Arsène Lupin is in prison.”
“I grant you that Arsène Lupin is in prison, closely guarded; but he
must have fetters on his feet, manacles on his wrists, and gag in his
mouth before I change my opinion.”
“Why so obstinate, Ganimard?”
“Because Arsène Lupin is the only man in France of sufficient calibre to
invent and carry out a scheme of that magnitude.”
“Mere words, Ganimard.”
“But true ones. Look! What are they doing? Searching for subterranean
passages, stones swinging on pivots, and other nonsense of that kind.
But Lupin doesn’t employ such old-fashioned methods. He is a modern
cracksman, right up to date.”
“And how would you proceed?”
“I should ask your permission to spend an hour with him.”
“In his cell?”
“Yes. During the return trip from America we became very friendly, and
I venture to say that if he can give me any information without
compromising himself he will not hesitate to save me from incurring
useless trouble.”
It was shortly after noon when Ganimard entered the cell of Arsène
Lupin. The latter, who was lying on his bed, raised his head and uttered
a cry of apparent joy.
“Ah! This is a real surprise. My dear Ganimard, here!”
“Ganimard himself.”
“In my chosen retreat, I have felt a desire for many things, but my
fondest wish was to receive you here.”
“Very kind of you, I am sure.”
“Not at all. You know I hold you in the highest regard.”
“I am proud of it.”
“I have always said: Ganimard is our best detective. He is almost,--you
see how candid I am!--he is almost as clever as Sherlock Holmes. But I
am sorry that I cannot offer you anything better than this hard stool.
And no refreshments! Not even a glass of beer! Of course, you will
excuse me, as I am here only temporarily.”
Ganimard smiled, and accepted the proffered seat. Then the prisoner
continued:
“Mon Dieu, how pleased I am to see the face of an honest man. I am so
tired of those devils of spies who come here ten times a day to ransack
my pockets and my cell to satisfy themselves that I am not preparing to
escape. The government is very solicitous on my account.”
“It is quite right.”
“Why so? I should be quite contented if they would allow me to live in
my own quiet way.”
“On other people’s money.”
“Quite so. That would be so simple. But here, I am joking, and you are,
no doubt, in a hurry. So let us come to business, Ganimard. To what do I
owe the honor of this visit?
“The Cahorn affair,” declared Ganimard, frankly.
“Ah! Wait, one moment. You see I have had so many affairs! First, let me
fix in my mind the circumstances of this particular case....Ah! yes, now
I have it. The Cahorn affair, Malaquis castle, Seine-Inférieure....Two
Rubens, a Watteau, and a few trifling articles.”
“Trifling!”
“Oh! ma foi, all that is of slight importance. But it suffices to know
that the affair interests you. How can I serve you, Ganimard?”
“Must I explain to you what steps the authorities have taken in the
matter?”
“Not at all. I have read the newspapers and I will frankly state that
you have made very little progress.”
“And that is the reason I have come to see you.”
“I am entirely at your service.”
“In the first place, the Cahorn affair was managed by you?”
“From A to Z.”
“The letter of warning? the telegram?”
“All mine. I ought to have the receipts somewhere.”
Arsène opened the drawer of a small table of plain white wood which,
with the bed and stool, constituted all the furniture in his cell, and
took therefrom two scraps of paper which he handed to Ganimard.
“Ah!” exclaimed the detective, in surprise, “I thought you were closely
guarded and searched, and I find that you read the newspapers and
collect postal receipts.”
“Bah! these people are so stupid! They open the lining of my vest, they
examine the soles of my shoes, they sound the walls of my cell, but they
never imagine that Arsène Lupin would be foolish enough to choose such a
simple hiding place.”
Ganimard laughed, as he said:
“What a droll fellow you are! Really, you bewilder me. But, come now,
tell me about the Cahorn affair.”
“Oh! oh! not quite so fast! You would rob me of all my secrets; expose
all my little tricks. That is a very serious matter.”
“Was I wrong to count on your complaisance?”
“No, Ganimard, and since you insist---”
Arsène Lupin paced his cell two or three times, then, stopping before
Ganimard, he asked:
“What do you think of my letter to the baron?”
“I think you were amusing yourself by playing to the gallery.”
“Ah! playing to the gallery! Come, Ganimard, I thought you knew me
better. Do I, Arsène Lupin, ever waste my time on such puerilities?
Would I have written that letter if I could have robbed the baron
without writing to him? I want you to understand that the letter was
indispensable; it was the motor that set the whole machine in motion.
Now, let us discuss together a scheme for the robbery of the Malaquis
castle. Are you willing?”
“Yes, proceed.”
“Well, let us suppose a castle carefully closed and barricaded like
that of the Baron Cahorn. Am I to abandon my scheme and renounce the
treasures that I covet, upon the pretext that the castle which holds
them is inaccessible?”
“Evidently not.”
“Should I make an assault upon the castle at the head of a band of
adventurers as they did in ancient times?”
“That would be foolish.”
“Can I gain admittance by stealth or cunning?”
“Impossible.”
“Then there is only one way open to me. I must have the owner of the
castle invite me to it.”
“That is surely an original method.”
“And how easy! Let us suppose that one day the owner receives a letter
warning him that a notorious burglar known as Arsène Lupin is plotting
to rob him. What will he do?”
“Send a letter to the Procureur.”
“Who will laugh at him, _because the said Arsène Lupin is actually in
prison_. Then, in his anxiety and fear, the simple man will ask the
assistance of the first-comer, will he not?”
“Very likely.”
“And if he happens to read in a country newspaper that a celebrated
detective is spending his vacation in a neighboring town---”
“He will seek that detective.”
“Of course. But, on the other hand, let us presume that, having foreseen
that state of affairs, the said Arsène Lupin has requested one of his
friends to visit Caudebec, make the acquaintance of the editor of the
‘Réveil,’ a newspaper to which the baron is a subscriber, and let said
editor understand that such person is the celebrated detective--then,
what will happen?”
“The editor will announce in the ‘Réveil’ the presence in Caudebec of
said detective.”
“Exactly; and one of two things will happen: either the fish--I mean
Cahorn--will not bite, and nothing will happen; or, what is more likely,
he will run and greedily swallow the bait. Thus, behold my Baron Cahorn
imploring the assistance of one of my friends against me.”
“Original, indeed!”
“Of course, the pseudo-detective at first refuses to give any
assistance. On top of that comes the telegram from Arsène Lupin. The
frightened baron rushes once more to my friend and offers him a definite
sum of money for his services. My friend accepts and summons two members
of our band, who, during the night, whilst Cahorn is under the watchful
eye of his protector, removes certain articles by way of the window
and lowers them with ropes into a nice little launch chartered for the
occasion. Simple, isn’t it?”
“Marvelous! Marvelous!” exclaimed Ganimard. “The boldness of the scheme
and the ingenuity of all its details are beyond criticism. But who is
the detective whose name and fame served as a magnet to attract the
baron and draw him into your net?”
“There is only one name could do it--only one.”
“And that is?”
“Arsène Lupin’s personal enemy--the most illustrious Ganimard.”
“I?”
“Yourself, Ganimard. And, really, it is very funny. If you go there, and
the baron decides to talk, you will find that it will be your duty to
arrest yourself, just as you arrested me in America. Hein! the revenge
is really amusing: I cause Ganimard to arrest Ganimard.”
Arsène Lupin laughed heartily. The detective, greatly vexed, bit his
lips; to him the joke was quite devoid of humor. The arrival of a prison
guard gave Ganimard an opportunity to recover himself. The man brought
Arsène Lupin’s luncheon, furnished by a neighboring restaurant. After
depositing the tray upon the table, the guard retired. Lupin broke his
bread, ate a few morsels, and continued:
“But, rest easy, my dear Ganimard, you will not go to Malaquis. I can
tell you something that will astonish you: the Cahorn affair is on the
point of being settled.”
“Excuse me; I have just seen the Chief of the Sureté.”
“What of that? Does Mon. Dudouis know my business better than I
do myself? You will learn that Ganimard--excuse me--that the
pseudo-Ganimard still remains on very good terms with the baron. The
latter has authorized him to negotiate a very delicate transaction with
me, and, at the present moment, in consideration of a certain sum, it
is probable that the baron has recovered possession of his pictures and
other treasures. And on their return, he will withdraw his complaint.
Thus, there is no longer any theft, and the law must abandon the case.”
Ganimard regarded the prisoner with a bewildered air.
“And how do you know all that?”
“I have just received the telegram I was expecting.”
“You have just received a telegram?”
“This very moment, my dear friend. Out of politeness, I did not wish to
read it in your presence. But if you will permit me---”
“You are joking, Lupin.”
“My dear friend, if you will be so kind as to break that egg, you will
learn for yourself that I am not joking.”
Mechanically, Ganimard obeyed, and cracked the egg-shell with the blade
of a knife. He uttered a cry of surprise. The shell contained nothing
but a small piece of blue paper. At the request of Arsène he unfolded
it. It was a telegram, or rather a portion of a telegram from which the
post-marks had been removed. It read as follows:
“Contract closed. Hundred thousand balls delivered. All well.”
“One hundred thousand balls?” said Ganimard.
“Yes, one hundred thousand francs. Very little, but then, you know,
these are hard times....And I have some heavy bills to meet. If you only
knew my budget.... living in the city comes very high.”
Ganimard arose. His ill humor had disappeared. He reflected for a
moment, glancing over the whole affair in an effort to discover a weak
point; then, in a tone and manner that betrayed his admiration of the
prisoner, he said:
“Fortunately, we do not have a dozen such as you to deal with; if we
did, we would have to close up shop.”
Arsène Lupin assumed a modest air, as he replied:
“Bah! a person must have some diversion to occupy his leisure hours,
especially when he is in prison.”
“What!” exclaimed Ganimard, “your trial, your defense, the
examination--isn’t that sufficient to occupy your mind?”
“No, because I have decided not to be present at my trial.”
“Oh! oh!”
Arsène Lupin repeated, positively:
“I shall not be present at my trial.”
“Really!”
“Ah! my dear monsieur, do you suppose I am going to rot upon the wet
straw? You insult me. Arsène Lupin remains in prison just as long as it
pleases him, and not one minute more.”
“Perhaps it would have been more prudent if you had avoided getting
there,” said the detective, ironically.
“Ah! monsieur jests? Monsieur must remember that he had the honor to
effect my arrest. Know then, my worthy friend, that no one, not even
you, could have placed a hand upon me if a much more important event had
not occupied my attention at that critical moment.”
“You astonish me.”