The confessions of arsène Lupin. The gentleman thief E-Book

Leblanc Maurice

• Herausgeber: Parkstone International
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 339

Beschreibung

The confessions of arsène Lupin. The gentleman thief

Leseprobe

Maurice Leblanc

THE CONFESSIONS OF

ARSÈNE LUPIN

The author or publisher cannot be held responsible for the information (formulas, recipes, techniques, etc.) contained in the text, even though the utmost care has been taken in the writing of this work. In the case of specific - often unique - problems of each particular reader, it is advisable to consult a qualified person to obtain the most complete, accurate and up-to-date information possible. EDITORIAL DE VECCHI, S. A. U.

© Editorial De Vecchi, S. A. 2021

© [2021] Confidential Concepts International Ltd., Ireland

Subsidiary company of Confidential Concepts Inc, USA

ISBN: 978-1-64699-974-3

The current Penal Code provides: “Anyone who, for profit and to the detriment of a third party, reproduces, plagiarizes, distributes or publicly communicates, in whole or in part, a literary, artistic or scientific work, or its transformation, interpretation or artistic performance fixed in any medium or communicated by any means, without the authorization of the holders of the corresponding intellectual property rights or their assigns, shall be liable to imprisonment for a term of six months to two years or a fine of six to twenty-four months. The same penalty shall be imposed on anyone who intentionally imports, exports or stores copies of such works or productions or performances without the said authorization. (Article 270)

CONTENTS

I. EDITH SWAN NECK

II. THE INFERNAL TRAP

III. TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND FRANCS REWARD!...

IV. THE RED SILK SCARF

V. LUPIN'S MARRIAGE

VI. THE WEDDING RING

VII. A TRAGEDY IN THE FOREST OF MORGUES

VIII. THE SIGN OF THE OBSCURITY

IX. UNDER THE SHADOW OF DEATH

X. THE INVISIBLE PRISONER

I. EDITH SWAN NECK

“Arsène Lupin, what's your real opinion of Inspector Ganimard?”

“A very high one, my dear fellow.”

“An extremely high one?” Then why do you never miss a chance of turning him into ridicule?”

“It's a bad habit, and I'm sorry about that. However, what can I say? That's the way the world works. Here's a decent detective chap, here's a whole pack of decent men, who stand for law and order, who protect us against the Apaches, who risk their lives for honest people like you and me and we have nothing to give them in return but flouts and gibes. It's preposterous!”

“Bravo, Lupin! you're talking like a respectable taxpayer!”

“What else am I? I may have a particular view on other people's property, but I assure you that it's very different when my own is at stake. By Jove, it's not good to get hold of what I own! Then I'm out for blood! Aha! It's “my” pocket, “my” money, “my” watch ... hands off! I have the soul of a conservative, my dear fellow, the instinct of a retired tradesman and the respect due to any kind of tradition and authority. And that is why Ganimard inspires me with no little gratitude and esteem.”

“But not much admiration?”

“A lot of admiration also. Over and above the fearless courage that comes naturally to all these gentlemen of the Criminal Investigation Department, Ganimard possesses very sterling qualities: decision, insight and judgement. I looked at him on the job. He's somebody when all's said. Do you know the Edith Swan-neck story, as it was called?”

“I know as much as everybody knows.”

“That means you have no idea. Well, that job was, I daresay, the one which I thought out most cleverly, with the utmost care and the utmost precaution, the one which I shrouded in the greatest darkness and mystery, the one which it took the biggest generalship to carry through. This was a regular chess match, played according to strict scientific and mathematical rules. And yet Ganimard ended by unravelling the knot. Thanks to him, they know the truth today on the Quai des Orfèvres. And it is a very unusual truth, I assure you.”

“May I hope to hear it?”

“Certainly ... one of these days ... When I get a chance... but the Brunelli is dancing at the Opera tonight and if she were not to see me in my stall ...!”

I didn't spend much time with Lupin. It is hard for him to confess when it suits him. It was only gradually, by snatches, by odds and ends of confidences that I was able to obtain the different incidents and to piece the story together in all its details.

The key features are well known and I will only refer to the facts. Three years ago, when the Brest train reached Rennes, the door of one of the baggage vans was found smashed. This van was booked by Colonel Sparmiento, a rich Brazilian who was travelling with his wife on the same train. It contained a full set of wall hangings. The case in which one of them was packed had been shattered open and the tapestry had vanished.

Colonel Sparmiento started legal proceedings against the railway company, claiming heavy damages, including for the stolen tapestry and also for the loss in value which the whole collection suffered as a consequence of the theft.

The police started their investigation. The company offered a great award. Two weeks later, a letter which had come undone in the post was opened by the authorities and revealed the fact that the theft had been carried out under the direction of Arsène Lupin and that a package was to leave the next day for the United States. The same evening, the tapestry is discovered in a trunk placed in the cloakroom at the Saint-Lazare station.

As a result, the scheme had a mishap. Lupin felt the disappointment so much that he vented his ill humour in a communication to Colonel Sparmiento, ending with the following words, which were clear enough for anybody:

“It was very considerate of me to take only one. Next time, I'll take the Twelve. “Verbum sap.”

“A. L.”

Colonel Sparmiento had been living for some months in a house located at the end of a small garden at the corner of the Rue de la Faisanderie and the Rue Dufresnoy. He was a rather thick-set, broad-shouldered man, with black hair and swarthy skin, always well and quietly dressed. He was married to an extremely pretty but delicate British woman, who was very upset about the tapestry business. From the beginning, she implored her husband to sell them for what they were going to get. The colonel had been far too forcible and tenacious to give in to what he was entitled to describe as feminine fantasies. He sold nothing, but redoubled his precautions and took every measure that would make an attempted burglary impossible.

First of all, to be able to confine his watch to the facade of the garden, he fortified all the windows on the ground floor and the first floor overlooking Rue Dufresnoy. He then enlisted the services of a firm that specialized in protecting private houses against theft. Every window in the gallery in which the tapestries were hung had invisible burglar alarms, the position of which was known only by himself. These, at least touch, turned on all the electric lights and set a whole system of bells and gongs to sound.

What is more, the insurance companies to which he applied refused to grant policies to any considerable amount unless he consented to let three men, supplied by the companies and paid by himself, occupy the ground floor of his house every night. They chose for that purpose three ex-detectives, proven and trustworthy men, all of whom hated Lupin like poison. As for the servants, the colonel had known them for years and was ready to take responsibility for them.

After taking these actions and organizing the defence of the house as though it were a fortress, the colonel gave a great reception, a sort of private view, to which he invited the members of both his clubs, as well as a certain number of ladies, journalists, art patrons and critics.

They felt like they were walking through the garden door like they were entering a prison. The three private detectives, posted at the foot of the stairs, asked for each visitor's invitation card and eyed him up and down warily, making him feel as though they were going to search his pockets or take his fingerprints.

The colonel, who received his guests on the first floor, made apologies with a laugh and seemed delighted at the opportunity of explaining the arrangements which he had invented to secure the safety of his hangings. His wife stood by him, looking charmingly young and pretty, fair-haired, pale and sinuous, with a sad and gentle expression, the expression of resignation often worn by those who are threatened by fate.

When all the guests had arrived, the garden gates and the hall doors were closed. Then everybody filed into the middle gallery, which was reached through two steel doors, while its windows, with their huge shutters, were secured by iron bars. This was where the twelve tapestries were kept.

They were incomparable works of art and, taking inspiration from the famous Bayeux tapestry, attributed to Queen Matilda, they represented the history of the Norman conquest. They had been ordered in the fourteenth century by the descendant of a man-at-arms in William the Conqueror's army were executed by Jehan Gosset, a famous Arras weaver and were discovered, five hundred years later, in an old Breton manor house. When the colonel learnt of this, he made a deal for fifty thousand francs. They were worth tenfold.

But the finest of the twelve tapestries composing the set, the most uncommon because the subject had not been treated by Queen Matilda, was the one which Arsène Lupin had stolen and which had been so fortunately recovered. It represented Edith Swan-neck on the battlefield of Hastings, seeking among the dead for the body of her beloved Harold, last of the Saxon kings.

The guests were lost in enthusiasm over this tapestry, over the natural beauty of the design, over the faded colours, over the lifelike grouping of the figures and the pitiful sadness of the scene. Poor Edith Gooseneck bent over like an overweight lily. Her white dress reflected the features of her languid figure. Her long, slender hands were extended as a sign of terror and supplication. And nothing could be more mournful than her profile, over which flickered the most dejected and despairing of smiles.

«A heartbreaking smile», noted one of the critics, to whom the others listened with deference.

“A very charming smile, besides, and it reminds me, Colonel, of the smile of Ms Sparmiento.”

And seeing that the observation seemed to meet with unanimous approval, he developed his idea: “There are other points of resemblance that struck me at once, such as the very graceful curve of the neck and the delicacy of the hands ... and also something about the figure, about the general attitude....”

“What you say is so true,” said the colonel, “that I confess that it is this resemblance which has determined me to buy the hangings. And there was another reason, which was that, by some strange coincidence, my wife's name turns out to be Edith. I have called her Edith Swan-neck ever since.” And the colonel added, with a laugh, “I hope that the coincidence will stop at this and that my dear Edith will never have to go in search of her true love's body, like her prototype.”

He laughed as he said these words, but his laugh met with no echo, and we find the same impression of embarrassing silence in all the accounts of the evening that appeared during the next few days. The people who stood beside him did not know what to say. One of them tried to jest: “Your name isn't Harold, Colonel?”

“No, thank you,” he said, with continued cheerfulness.“No, that's not my name; nor am I in the least like the Saxon king.”

Everybody has since agreed in asserting that, at that moment, as the colonel finished speaking, the first alarm rang from the windows-the right or the middle window: opinions differ on this point - rang short and shrill on a single note. The sound of the alarm bell was followed by an exclamation of terror by Ms Sparmiento, who grabbed her husband's arm. He shouted, “whatis it? What does this mean?”

The guests stayed motionless, their eyes riveted on the windows. The Colonel reiterated: “What does this mean? I can't figure it out. No one but myself knows where that bell is fixed....”

And, at that very instant - here again, the evidence is unanimous - at that, the moment came unexpectedly, absolute darkness, followed immediately by the maddening noise of all the bells and all the gongs, from top to bottom of the house, in every room and at every window.

For a few seconds, a foolish disorder, a madness, reigned. The women screamed. The men punched with their fists on the closed doors. They hustled and fought. People fell on the floor and were stomped on. It was like a panicked crowd, afraid of menacing flames or a shell explosion. And over the tumult came the voice of the colonel, crying out, “Silence!... don't move!... it's all right!... the switch is right there in the corner... hang on a minute... here!”

He had pushed his way through his guests and reached a corner of the gallery; and, all at once, the electric light blazed up again, while the pandemonium of bells stopped. Then, in the sudden light, an odd sight met the eyes. Two women had blacked out. Ms Sparmiento, hanging to her husband's arm, with her knees dragging on the floor, and livid in the face, seemed half dead. The men, pale, with their neckties awry, appeared as if they had all been in the wars.

“The tapestries are there!“ exclaimed one of them.

There was a big surprise as if the disappearance of the hangings had to be the natural result and the only plausible explanation of the incident. Nothing was moved, though. Some valuable pictures, hanging from the walls, were still there. And, although the same sound had reverberated all over the house, although all the rooms had been thrown into darkness, the detectives had seen no one entering or trying to enter.

“As a matter of fact,” said the colonel, “only the windows of the gallery have alarms. Nobody but myself understands how they work, and I had not set them yet.”

People laughed loudly at how they had been frightened, but they laughed without conviction and in a more or less shamefaced fashion, for each of them was keenly alive to the absurdity of his conduct. And they had only one thought — to get out of that house where, say what you say, the atmosphere was agonizing.

Two journalists remained, however, and the colonel joined them, having taken care of Edith and handed her over to his servants. The three of them, along with the detectives, did a search that did not lead to the discovery of anything of any interest. Then the colonel sent for some champagne and the result was that it was not until a late hour - to be exact, a quarter to three in the morning - that the journalists left, the colonel retired to his quarters, and the detectives withdrew to the room, which had been set up for them on the ground floor.

They took the watch in turn, a watch consisting, in the first place, in staying awake and, then, in looking around the garden and visiting the gallery at regular intervals. These orders were scrupulously carried out, except between five and seven in the morning, when sleep gained control and the men ceased to make their rounds. But it was daylight outdoors. In fact, if there had been any bells, wouldn't they have woke up?

Nevertheless, when one of them, at twenty minutes past seven, opened the door of the gallery and pushed back the shutters, he saw that the twelve tapestries were gone.

This man and the others were later blamed for not giving the alarm immediately and for starting their own investigations before informing the colonel and telephoning the local commissioner. Yet, it is hardly possible to say that this very excusable delay hampered the action of the police. However, the colonel was only informed at eight and a half o'clock. He was clothed and ready to leave. The news did not seem to upset him beyond measurement, or at least he succeeded in controlling his emotion. But the effort must have been too much for him, for he suddenly dropped into a chair and, for a few minutes, gave way to a regular fit of despair and distress, most painful to behold in a man of his determined appearance.

Recovering and controlling himself, he went to the gallery, gazed at the bare walls and then sat down at a table and swiftly scribbled a letter, which he put into an envelope and sealed it.

“There,” he said. “I have to hurry... I have a really important appointment... Here is a letter for the commissary of police. And, seeing the detectives'eyes upon him, he added: I give my views to the commissioner telling him of a suspicion that occurs to me... He should follow him... I will do what I can....”

He ran away from the house, with excited gestures which the detectives must have remembered afterwards. In a few minutes, the police chief arrived. He was given a letter containing the following words:

“I'm running out of strength.“ The theft of these tapestries completes the crash I've been trying to cover in the last year. I bought them on a speculative basis and hoped to obtain a million francs for them, thanks to the agitation that was made about them. I was offered 600,000 by an American. It meant saving me. It means total destruction.

“I hope my dear wife will forgive the grief I cause her. Her name will be on my lips at the last moment.”

Mrs Sparmiento was informed of that. She remained aghast with horror, while inquiries were instituted and attempts made to trace the colonel's movements.

At the end of the afternoon, a phone message arrived from Ville d'Avray. A group of railwaymen had found the body of a man lying at the entrance of a tunnel after a train had passed. The body was horribly mutilated; the face had lost any resemblance to everything that was human. There weren't any papers in his pockets. But it matched the description of the colonel.

Ms Sparmiento arrived at Ville d'Avray by motor car at seven o'clock in the evening. She was taken to a room at the railway station. When the blanket was removed, Edith, Edith Gooseneck, recognized her husband's body.

In these circumstances, Lupin did not receive his usual good notices in the press: “Let him look to himself,” jeered one leader writer, summing up, the general opinion. “It would not take many exploits of this kind for him to give up the popularity that has not been reproached him so far. We do not need Lupin, except when his scams are perpetrated at the expense of promoters of dubious companies, foreign adventurers, German barons, banks and financial corporations. And most importantly, no murders! A thief that can be tolerated, but a murderer can't! If he's not directly culpable, he's at least responsible for that death. There is blood upon his hands; the arms on his escutcheon are stained gules....”

The anger and disgust of the audience were increased by the pity that Edith's pale face aroused. The guests of the previous night gave their version of what had happened, forgetting none of the impressive details and a legend formed immediately around the fair-haired Englishwoman, a legend that assumed a really tragic character, owing to the popular story of the swan-necked heroine.

And yet, the public could not hide its admiration for the extraordinary skill with which the theft had been performed. The police explained it to everyone. The detectives had noticed from the first and later reported that one of the gallery's three windows was wide open. There was no doubt that Lupin and his accomplices came in through this window. This seemed to be a very credible suggestion. Still, in that case, how were they able, firstly, to climb the garden fences, incoming and going, without being seen; secondly, to cross the garden and put up a ladder on the flower bed, without leaving the least trace behind; thirdly, to open the blinds and the window, without starting the bells and switching on the lights in the house?

The police charged the three detectives with complicity. The magistrate in charge of the case questioned them at length, made a thorough investigation of their private life and formally declared that they were above all suspicion. As for the tapestries, there seemed to be no hope of their recovery.

It was at this point that Chief-inspector Ganimard came back from India, where he had been hunting for Lupin on the strength of several most convincing proofs supplied by former complicit of Lupin himself. Feeling that he had once again been tricked by his eternal adversary, fully believing that Lupin had dispatched him on this wild-goose chase to be rid of him during the business of the tapestries, he asked for a couple of weeks‘ leave of absence, called on Ms Sparmiento and promised to get revenge for her husband.

Edith had reached the point where even the thought of vengeance did not alleviate the sufferer's pain. She had discharged the three detectives on the day of the burial and engaged just one man and an old housekeeper and cook to take the place of the large staff of servants the sight of whom reminded her too cruelly of the past. Regardless of what happened, she kept her room and let Ganimard do whatever he wanted.

He moved to the ground floor and immediately instituted a series of most minute investigations. He resumed the investigation, interviewed the people of the neighbourhood, studied the distribution of the rooms and set in motion thirty-forty times each of the burglar alarms.

At the end of the two-week period, he applied for an extension of leave. The chief of detectives, who was then Mr Dudouis came to see him and found him perched atop a ladder in the gallery. That day, the chief inspector recognized that all his research had been useless.

A couple of days later, Mr Dudouis called back and discovered Ganimard in a very reflective state of mind. A bundle of newspapers was spread in front of him. Finally, in response to his superior's urgent questions, the chief inspector murmured: “I know nothing, chief, absolutelynothing; but there is a confused notion that worries me... But it seems so ridiculous... Besides, it doesn't explain anything... On the contrary, it confuses them rather....”

“Then ...?”

“Then I beseech you, Chief, to have a little patience -“ to give me a chance to make my way. But if I call you, sooner or later, all of a sudden, you have to jump into a taxi, without losing a minute. It will mean that I have discovered the secret.”

Forty-eight hours went by. And then one morning. A telegram was delivered to Dudouis:

“I'm off to Lille.”

GANIMARD

“What the dickens can he want to go to Lille for?“ requested the chief detective.

The day went by without hearing from him, followed by another day. But Mr Dudouis trusted Ganimard. He knew his man, knew that the old detective wasn't one of those people who got excited about nothing. When Ganimard “got a move on him,” it meant that he had good reasons for doing so.

In fact, the night of the second day, M. Dudouis received a phone call.

“Is that you, Chief?”

“Is it Ganimard speaking?”

Careful men both, they started by ascertaining each other's identity. As soon as his mind was calmed in this matter, Ganimard continued in haste: Ten men, chief, at once. And please come yourself.”

“Where are you?”

“On the ground floor of the house.” But I will wait for you just inside the garden gate.”

“I shall be right with you. In a taxi, of course?”

“Yes, Chief. Stop the taxi fifty yards from the house. I'll let you in when you whistle.”

Everything happened as Ganimard had arranged. Shortly after midnight, when all the lights were off on the upper floors, he slid down the street and went to meet Mr Dudouis. A hasty consultation took place. The officers were divided as ordered by Ganimard. Then the chief and the chief inspector walked back together, noiselessly crossed the garden and closeted themselves with every precaution: “Well, what's it all about?“ requested Mr Dudouis. “What is that supposed to mean? Upon my word, we look like a pair of conspirators!”

However, Ganimard did not laugh. His chief had never seen him in such a state of perturbation, nor heard him speak in a voice denoting such excitement: “Any news, Ganimard?”

“Yes, Chef, and -“ this time ...! but I have trouble believing it myself... and yet I make no mistake: I know the truth... it may be as improbable as you please, but it is the truth, all the truth andnothing but the truth.”

He wiped the drops of sweat from his forehead and, following another question from Mr Dudouis, pulled himself together, swallowed a glass of water and began: “Lupin has often got the better of me....”

“Take a look, Ganimard,” said M. Dudouis, interrupting him. “Why can't you get to the bottom of it?” Tell me, in two words, what's happened.”

“No, Sir,” replied the chief inspector, “you must know the various steps I have gone through.” Excuse me, but I consider it indispensable. And he repeated: I said, chief, that Lupin often got the upper hand over me and made me dance a lot. But, you know, in this contest where I was always the worst... so far ... I have at least acquired the experience of his game and got to know his tactics. Now, as far as the tapestries are concerned, I almost thought from the outset that I would have two problems. In the first place, Lupin, who never makes a move without knowing what he is after, was clearly aware that Colonel Sparmiento had come to the end of his money and that the loss of the tapestries might drive him to suicide. Nonetheless, Lupin, who hates the very thought of bloodshed, stole the tapestries.”

“There was the incitement,” said M. Dudouis, “of the five or six hundred thousand francs which they are worth.”

“No, Chief, I tell you again, whatever the occasion might be, Lupin would not murder anybody, nor be the cause of another person's death, for anything in the world, for millions and millions. This is point number one. Secondly, what was the object of all this agitation, in the evening, during the housewarming? Evidently, don't you think, to surround the business with an ambience of anxiety and terror, in the shortest possible time, and also to deviate suspicion from the truth, which, otherwise, might easily have been suspected?... You don't seem to understand, Chief?”

“Take my word, I do not!”

“Actually,” said Ganimard, “as a matter of fact, it is not particularly obvious. And I myself, when I put the problem in my mind with those same words, I did not quite understand it ... And yet I felt that I was heading in the right direction... Yes, there was no doubt about it that Lupin intended to deflect suspicion ... to turn them towardshimself, Lupin, mark you ... so that the real person who worked in the business remains unknown....”

“A companion,” suggested M. Dudouis. “A companion, moving among the visitors, who set the alarms on... and who managed to hide in the house after the party had broken up.”

“You're getting warm, Chief, you're getting warm!” It is certain that the tapestries, as they cannot have been stolen by anyone making his way surreptitiously into the house, were stolen by somebody who remained in the house; and it is equally certain that, by taking the list of the people invited and enquiring into the antecedents of each of them, one might....”

“Well?”

“Well, Chief, there's a ‘but,'notably, that the three detectives had this list in their hands when the visitors arrived and that they still had it when they left. Now sixty-three came in and sixty-three went away. So you see....”

“Then do you suspect a servant?...”

“No.”

“The detectives?”

“No.”

“But, still ... but, still,” said the chief, impatiently, “if the theft was committed internally....”

“This is beyond dispute,” riposted the inspector, whose excitement seemed to be close to fever point. “No doubt about that.” All my investigations resulted in the same certainty. And my intimate belief gradually became so positive that I ended, one day, by drawing up this startling axiom: in theory and in fact, the theft can only have been committed with the assistance of an accomplice staying in the house. Whereas there was no accomplice!”

“This is ridiculous,” said Dudouis.

“Utter nonsense,” said Ganimard. “But, at the very moment when I uttered that absurd sentence, the truth flashed upon me.”

“Eh?”

“Oh, a very weak, very incomplete, but still sufficient truth! With this hint to guide me, I had to find a way. Do you follow me, Chief?”

M. Dudouis stood silent. The same phenomenon that occurred in Ganimard evidently happened to him. He murmured, “if this is not one of the guests, nor the servants, nor the private detectives, then there's no one left....”

“Yes, Chief, there is one left....”

M. Dudouis began as though he had begun shocked and, in a voice that betrayed his excitement:

“But, look here, that's absurd.”

“Why?”

“Just, think for yourself!”

“Come on, Chief, say what's in your mind.”

“Nonsense! What do you mean?”

“Go on, Chief.”

“It's impossible! How can Sparmiento have been Lupin's accomplice?”

Ganimard had a little giggle.

“Exactly, the accomplice of Arsene Lupin!... That accounts for all of this. In course of the night, while the three detectives were downstairs watching, or sleeping rather, for Colonel Sparmiento had given them champagne to drink and perhaps “alloyed “it beforehand, the said colonel took down the hangings and passed them out through the window of his bedroom. The room is on the second floor and looks out on another street, which was not watched because the lower windows are walled up.”

M. Dudouis reflected and shrugged, saying:

“It's preposterous!“ he reiterated.

“Why?”

“Why? Because, if the colonel had been Arsène Lupin's accomplice, he would not have committed suicide after achieving his success.”

“Who says that he committed suicide?”

“Why, he was found dead on the line!”

“I told you, there is no such thing as death with Lupin.”

“But it was quite authentic. Besides, Ms Sparmiento identified the body.”

“I thought you might say so, Sir.” I was also worried about the argument. There was me, all of a sudden, with three people before me instead of one: first, Arsène Lupin, the lunatic; secondly, Colonel Sparmiento, his accomplice; thirdly, a dead man. Spare us! It was too much of a good thing!”

Ganimard took a bundle of papers, detached it and gave one to M. Dudouis:

“You remember, Chief, the last time you came, I read the papers... I wanted to see if something had not happened, at that point, that might affect the case and confirm my supposition. Please read this paragraph.”

M. Dudouis took the paper and read aloud: “Our Lille correspondent informs us that a strange incident occurred in this city. A body disappeared from the local morgue, the body of a stranger who threw himself under the wheels of a steam tramway the day before. No one can suggest a reason for this disappearance.”

M. Dudouis thought about it and asked, “so... you believe ...?”

“I come from Lille,” replied Ganimard, “and my research leaves no doubt in my mind. The corpse was removed on the same night on which Colonel Sparmiento gave his housewarming. It was taken straight to Ville d'Avray by motor car, and the car remained near the railway line until the evening.”

“So, next to the tunnel,” said M. Dudouis.

“Next to it, Chief.”

“So that the body that has been found is but this body, clothed, Colonel Sparmiento's clothes.”

“Precisely, Chief.”

“Then Colonel Sparmiento is not dead?”

“No more dead than you or I, Chief.”

“Well, then, why all the complications?” Why steal a tapestry, then recover it, then steal the twelve? What's all this housewarming about? Why that disturbance? Why everything? Your story won't hold water, Ganimard.”

“Only because you, Chief, as myself, have stopped halfway; because, strange as this story already sounds, we must go still farther, very much farther, towards the improbable and the astounding. What's wrong with that? Remember, we're talking about Arsene Lupin. With him, isn't it always the improbable and bewildering that we must search for? Must we not always go straight for the wildest suppositions? And when I say the craziest, I don't use the right word. On the contrary, all of this is wonderfully logical and so straightforward that a child could understand it. Confederates only cheat on you. Why employ confederates, when it is so easy and so natural to act for yourself, by yourself, with your own hands and by the means within your own reach?”

“What are you talking about? What are you talking about? What are you talking about?” cried Mr Dudouis, in a kind of singing and a tone of perplexity that amplified with each exclamation.

Ganimard had a fresh giggle.

“That takes your breath away, Chief? So it did mine, on the day when you came to see me here and when the idea started to grow upon me. I was stunned in amazement. And yet I've had the experience of my customer. I know what he's able to do... But this, no, this was really a bit too stiff!”

“It's inconceivable! It's inconceivable!” said Mr Dudouis, in a low voice.

“On the contrary, Chief, it is perfectly possible, perfectly logical and perfectly normal. It is the threefold embodiment of the same individual. A schoolboy would solve the problem in a minute, by a simple process of elimination. Take the body of Sparmiento and Lupin away. Take away Sparmiento....”

“Lupin remains,” murmured the chief inspector.

“Yes, Chief, Lupin simply, Lupin in five letters and two syllables, Lupin removed out of his Brazilian skin, Lupin resurrected from the dead, Lupin converted, for the past six months, into Colonel Sparmiento, travelling in Brittany, hearing of the discovery of the twelve tapestries, buying them, planning the robbery of the best of them, to draw attention to himself, Lupin, and divert it from himself, Sparmiento. Next, he provokes, in full view of the gaping public, a noisy contest between Lupin and Sparmiento or Sparmiento and Lupin, plots and gives the housewarming party, terrifies his guests and, when everything is ready, arranges for Lupin to steal Sparmiento's tapestries and for Sparmiento, Lupin's victim, to vanish from sight and die unsuspected, not suspectable, mourned by his friends, sympathized by the public and leaving behind him, to pocket the profits of the scam....”

Ganimard stopped, looked the chief in the eyes and, in a voice that stressed the importance of his words, concluded: “Leaving behind him a distraught widow.”

“Ms Sparmiento! Do you really believe that....?

“Hang it all!” said the chief inspector. “People don't work up an entire case like that, without seeing something ahead of them ... solid profits.”

“But the profits, I think, reside in the sale of the tapestries which Lupin will effect in America or elsewhere.”

“In the first place, yes. But Colonel Sparmiento could make that sale just as well. And even better than that. I guess, there's something more.”

“Something more?”

“Come, Chief, you forget that Colonel Sparmiento was the victim of an important theft and that, although he may be dead, at least his widow remains. Therefore, the money will go to his widow.”

“What money?”

“What money? Why is the money due to her! The insurance money, of course!”

Mr Dudouis was stunned. The entire affair suddenly became clear to him, with its true significance. He murmured, “It's true!... That's true!... The colonel had insured his tapestries....”

“Rather! And for no trifle either.”

“For how much?”

“Eight hundred thousand francs.”

“Eight hundred thousand?”

“That's correct. To five different companies.”

“And has Ms Sparmiento received the money?”

“She obtained a hundred and fifty thousand francs yesterday and two hundred thousand today, while she was away. The remaining payments are to be made in the course of this week.”

“But this is terrible! You should have....”

“What, Chief? First, they took advantage of my absence to settle up matters with the companies. I didn't hear about it until my return when I ran up against an insurance manager whom I happen to know and took the opportunity to get him out.”

The chief detective was silent for a while, not sure what to say. Then he muttered: “What a guy, though!”

Ganimard nodded his head: “Yes, Chief, a blackguard, but, I can't help saying, a devil of asmart fellow. For his plan to achieve his goal, he must have managed in such a manner that, for four or five weeks, no one could express or even imagine the least suspicion of the part played by Colonel Sparmiento. All the anger and all the inquiries had to be concentrated upon Lupin alone. As a last resort, people had to find themselves faced simply with a miserable, pitiful, penniless widow, poor Edith Swan-neck, a beautiful and mystical vision, a creature so pathetic that the gentlemen of the insurance companies were almost happy to place something in her hands to relieve her poverty and her grief. That's what was wanted and that's what happened.”

The two men were close together and did not deviate from each other's eyes.

The chief asked: “Who is that woman?”

“Sonia Kritchnoff.”

“Sonia Kritchnoff?”

“Yes, the Russian girl whom I apprehended last year at the time of the theft of the coronet, and whom Lupin helped to disappear.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely. I was rebuffed, like everyone else, by Lupin's machinations, and had not paid special attention to her. But, when I found out the part which she was playing, I remembered. She is certainly Sonia, metamorphosed into an Englishwoman; Sonia, the most innocent looking and the most cunning of actresses; Sonia, who would not hesitate to face death for love of Lupin.”

“A good catch, Ganimard,” said M. Dudouis, approvingly.

“I've something even better for you, Chief!”

“Really? What?”

“Lupin's old adoptive mother.”

“Victoire?”

“She has been here since Ms Sparmiento began playing the role of the widow; she's the cook.”

“Oho!” said Mr Dudouis. “My compliments, Ganimard!”

“I've something for you, Chief, that's even much better than that!”

Mr Dudouis gave a start. The detective's hand squeezed his and trembled with excitement.

“What do you mean, Ganimard?”

“Do you think, Chief, that I would have brought you here at this late hour if I had had nothing more appealing to offer you than Sonia and Victoire?” Pah! They'd have kept!”

“You mean to say ...?“ muttered Mr Dudouis, at last, comprehending the agitation of the chief inspector.

“You've guessed it, Chief!”

“Is he here?”

“He's here.”

“In hiding?”

“Absolutely not.” Just in disguise, I guess. He's the man-servant.”

This time, Mr Dudouis never said a word nor made a move. The boldness of Lupin confounded him.

Ganimard giggled.

“This is no longer a triple incarnation, but a fourfold incarnation. It's possible Edith Swan-neck made a mistake. The master had to be present, and he had the cheek to come back. For three weeks, he has been beside me during my inquiry, calmly following the progress made.”

“Did you recognize him?”

“One doesn't recognize him. He has a knack for putting make-up on his face and altering the proportions of his body to prevent someone from knowing him. In addition, I was miles away from suspecting... but, this evening, as I was watching Sonia in the shadow of the stairs, I heard Victoire speak to the man-servant and call him, ‘Dearie.'A light flashed in upon me. ‘Dearie! That's the name she always used. And I knew where I was.”

Mr Dudouis seemed troubled, in his turn, by the presence of the enemy, so often pursued and still so intangible: “We have him, this time,” he said, between his teeth. “We've got him, and he can't escape us.”

“No, Chief, he can't: neither he nor the two women.”

“Where are they?”

“Sonia and Victoire are on the second floor; Lupin is on the third.”

Mr Dudouis suddenly became unquiet: “Why, it was through the windows of one of those floors that the tapestries were passed when they disappeared!”

“That's correct, Chief.”

“In this case, Lupin may also escape. The windows look out on the Rue Dufresnoy.”

“Certainly, Chief, but I have taken precautions. Upon your arrival, I sent four of our men to watch the windows of Dufresnoy Street. They have strict instructions to fire if someone appears in the windows and appears to be descending. Blank cartridges for the first shot, ball cartridges for the next.”

“Good, Ganimard! You figured everything out. We'll wait here and, immediately after sunrise....”

“Wait, Chief? Stand on ceremony with that rascal? Bother about rules and regulations, statuary hours and all that rubbish? And suppose he'