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

and two ladies of elegant appearance were already seated and who extended to Lupin a hearty greeting.

Sholmes now looked about for the four men and perceived them amongst a crowd of people who were listening to a gipsy orchestra that was playing in a neighboring café. It was a curious thing that they were paying no attention to Arsène Lupin, but seemed to be friendly with the people around them. One of them took a cigarette from his pocket and approached a gentleman who wore a frock coat and silk hat. The gentleman offered the other his cigar for a light, and Sholmes had the impression that they talked to each other much longer than the occasion demanded. Finally the gentleman approached the Hungarian restaurant, entered and looked around. When he caught sight of Lupin he advanced and spoke to him for a moment, then took a seat at an adjoining table. Sholmes now recognized this gentleman as the horseman who had tried to run him down in the avenue Henri-Martin.

Then Sholmes understood that these men were not tracking Arsène Lupin; they were a part of his band. They were watching over his safety. They were his bodyguard, his satellites, his vigilant escort. Wherever danger threatened Lupin, these confederates were at hand to avert it, ready to defend him. The four men were accomplices. The gentleman in the frock coat was an accomplice. These facts furnished the Englishman with food for reflection. Would he ever succeed in capturing that inaccessible individual? What unlimited power was possessed by such an organization, directed by such a chief!

He tore a leaf from his notebook, wrote a few lines in pencil, which he placed in an envelope, and said to a boy about fifteen years of age who was sitting on the bench beside him:

“Here, my boy; take a carriage and deliver this letter to the cashier of the Suisse tavern, Place du Châtelet. Be quick!”

He gave him a five-franc piece. The boy disappeared.

A half hour passed away. The crowd had grown larger, and Sholmes perceived only at intervals the accomplices of Arsène Lupin. Then someone brushed against him and whispered in his ear:

“Well! what is it, Monsieur Sholmes?”

“Ah! it is you, Ganimard?”

“Yes; I received your note at the tavern. What’s the matter?”

“He is there.”

“What do you mean?”

“There⁠ ⁠… in the restaurant. Lean to the right.⁠ ⁠… Do you see him now?”

“No.”

“He is pouring a glass of champagne for the lady.”

“That is not Lupin.”

“Yes, it is.”

“But I tell you.⁠ ⁠… Ah! yet, it may be. It looks a great deal like him,” said Ganimard, naively. “And the others⁠—accomplices?”

“No; the lady sitting beside him is Lady Cliveden; the other is the Duchess de Cleath. The gentleman sitting opposite Lupin is the Spanish Ambassador to London.”

Ganimard took a step forward. Sholmes retained him.

“Be prudent. You are alone.”

“So is he.”

“No, he has a number of men on the boulevard mounting guard. And inside the restaurant that gentleman⁠—”

“And I, when I take Arsène Lupin by the collar and announce his name, I shall have the entire room on my side and all the waiters.”

“I should prefer to have a few policemen.”

“But, Monsieur Sholmes, we have no choice. We must catch him when we can.”

He was right; Sholmes knew it. It was better to take advantage of the opportunity and make the attempt. Sholmes simply gave this advice to Ganimard:

“Conceal your identity as long as possible.”

Sholmes glided behind a newspaper kiosk, whence he could still watch Lupin, who was leaning toward Lady Cliveden, talking and smiling.

Ganimard crossed the street, hands in his pockets, as if he were going down the boulevard, but when he reached the opposite sidewalk he turned quickly and bounded up the steps of the restaurant. There was a shrill whistle. Ganimard ran against the head waiter, who had suddenly planted himself in the doorway and now pushed Ganimard back with a show of indignation, as if he were an intruder whose presence would bring disgrace upon the restaurant. Ganimard was surprised. At the same moment the gentleman in the frock coat came out. He took the part of the detective and entered into an exciting argument with the waiter; both of them hung on to Ganimard, one pushing him in, the other pushing him out in such a manner that, despite all his efforts and despite his furious protestations, the unfortunate detective soon found himself on the sidewalk.

The struggling men were surrounded by a crowd. Two policemen, attracted by the noise, tried to force their way through the crowd, but encountered a mysterious resistance and could make no headway through the opposing backs and pressing shoulders of the mob.

But suddenly, as if by magic, the crowd parted and the passage to the restaurant was clear. The head waiter, recognizing his mistake, was profuse in his apologies; the gentleman in the frock coat ceased his efforts on behalf of the detective, the crowd dispersed, the policemen passed on, and Ganimard hastened to the table at which the six guests were sitting. But now there were only five! He looked around.⁠ ⁠… The only exit was the door.

“The person who was sitting here!” he cried to the five astonished guests. “Where is he?”

“Monsieur Destro?”

“No; Arsène Lupin!”

A waiter approached and said:

“The gentleman went upstairs.”

Ganimard rushed up in the hope of finding him. The upper floor of the restaurant contained private dining-rooms and had a private stairway leading to the boulevard.

“No use looking for him now,” muttered Ganimard. “He is far away by this time.”

He was not far away⁠—two hundred yards at most⁠—in the Madeleine-Bastille omnibus, which was rolling along very peacefully with its three horses across the Place de l’Opéra toward the Boulevard des Capucines. Two sturdy fellows were talking together on the platform. On the roof of the omnibus near the stairs an old fellow was sleeping; it was Herlock Sholmes.

With bobbing head, rocked by the movement of the vehicle, the Englishman said to himself:

“If Wilson could see me now, how proud he would be