Arsène Lupin Versus Herlock Sholmes, Maurice Leblanc [i read a book txt] 📗

“Not a minute, Monsieur Wilson; but I wish to express my pleasure at having met you, and to tell you how much I envy the master in having such a valuable assistant as you seem to be.”

Then, after they had courteously saluted each other, like adversaries in a duel who entertain no feeling of malice but are obliged to fight by force of circumstances, Lupin seized me by the arm and drew me outside.

“What do you think of it, dear boy? The strange events of this evening will form an interesting chapter in the memoirs you are now preparing for me.”

He closed the door of the restaurant behind us, and, after taking a few steps, he stopped and said:

“Do you smoke?”

“No. Nor do you, it seems to me.”

“You are right, I don’t.”

He lighted a cigarette with a wax-match, which he shook several times in an effort to extinguish it. But he threw away the cigarette immediately, ran across the street, and joined two men who emerged from the shadows as if called by a signal. He conversed with them for a few minutes on the opposite sidewalk, and then returned to me.

“I beg your pardon, but I fear that cursed Sholmes is going to give me trouble. But, I assure you, he is not yet through with Arsène Lupin. He will find out what kind of fuel I use to warm my blood. And now⁠—au revoir! The genial Wilson is right; there is not a moment to lose.”

He walked away rapidly.

Thus ended the events of that exciting evening, or, at least, that part of them in which I was a participant. Subsequently, during the course of the evening, other stirring incidents occurred which have come to my knowledge through the courtesy of other members of that unique dinner-party.

At the very moment in which Lupin left me, Herlock Sholmes rose from the table, and looked at his watch.

“Twenty minutes to nine. At nine o’clock I am to meet the Count and Countess at the railway station.”

“Then, we must be off!” exclaimed Wilson, between two drinks of whisky.

They left the restaurant.

“Wilson, don’t look behind. We may be followed, and, in that case, let us act as if we did not care. Wilson, I want your opinion: why was Lupin in that restaurant?”

“To get something to eat,” replied Wilson, quickly.

“Wilson, I must congratulate you on the accuracy of your deduction. I couldn’t have done better myself.”

Wilson blushed with pleasure, and Sholmes continued:

“To get something to eat. Very well, and, after that, probably, to assure himself whether I am going to the Château de Crozon, as announced by Ganimard in his interview. I must go in order not to disappoint him. But, in order to gain time on him, I shall not go.”

“Ah!” said Wilson, nonplussed.

“You, my friend, will walk down this street, take a carriage, two, three carriages. Return later and get the valises that we left at the station, and make for the Élysée-Palace at a galop.”

“And when I reach the Élysée-Palace?”

“Engage a room, go to sleep, and await my orders.”

Quite proud of the important role assigned to him, Wilson set out to perform his task. Herlock Sholmes proceeded to the railway station, bought a ticket, and repaired to the Amiens’ express in which the Count and Countess de Crozon were already installed. He bowed to them, lighted his pipe, and had a quiet smoke in the corridor. The train started. Ten minutes later he took a seat beside the Countess, and said to her:

“Have you the ring here, madame?”

“Yes.”

“Will you kindly let me see it?”

He took it, and examined it closely.

“Just as I suspected: it is a manufactured diamond.”

“A manufactured diamond?”

“Yes; a new process which consists in submitting diamond dust to a tremendous heat until it melts and is then molded into a single stone.”

“But my diamond is genuine.”

“Yes, your diamond is; but this is not yours.”

“Where is mine?”

“It is held by Arsène Lupin.”

“And this stone?”

“Was substituted for yours, and slipped into Herr Bleichen’s tooth-powder, where it was afterwards found.”

“Then you think this is false?”

“Absolutely false.”

The Countess was overwhelmed with surprise and grief, while her husband scrutinized the diamond with an incredulous air. Finally she stammered:

“Is it possible? And why did they not merely steal it and be done with it? And how did they steal it?”

“That is exactly what I am going to find out.”

“At the Château de Crozon?”

“No. I shall leave the train at Creil and return to Paris. It is there the game between me and Arsène Lupin must be played. In fact, the game has commenced already, and Lupin thinks I am on my way to the château.”

“But⁠—”

“What does it matter to you, madame? The essential thing is your diamond, is it not?”

“Yes.”

“Well, don’t worry. I have just undertaken a much more difficult task than that. You have my promise that I will restore the true diamond to you within ten days.”

The train slackened its speed. He put the false diamond in his pocket and opened the door. The Count cried out:

“That is the wrong side of the train. You are getting out on the tracks.”

“That is my intention. If Lupin has anyone on my track, he will lose sight of me now. Adieu.”

An employee protested in vain. After the departure of the train, the Englishman sought the stationmaster’s office. Forty minutes later he leaped into a train that landed him in Paris shortly before midnight. He ran across the platform, entered the lunchroom, made his exit at another door, and jumped into a cab.

“Driver⁠—rue Clapeyron.”

Having reached the conclusion that he was not followed, he stopped the carriage at the end of the street, and proceeded to make a careful examination of Monsieur Detinan’s house and the two adjoining houses. He made measurements of certain distances and entered the figures in his notebook.

“Driver⁠—avenue Henri-Martin.”

At the corner of the avenue and the rue de la Pompe, he dismissed the carriage, walked down the street to number 134, and performed the same operations