The Confessions of Arsène Lupin, Maurice Leblanc [top 10 novels of all time txt] 📗

“Oh, that’s all right!” said the farmer. “He’s the sort to find the notes for us, just as he found the man.”

“Unless⁠ ⁠…” said a voice.

“Unless what?” echoed the farmer. “What do you mean? Have you something in your head? Out with it, then! What is it?”

But he interrupted himself suddenly, seized with a doubt; and there was a moment’s silence. The same idea dawned on all the country-folk. The stranger’s arrival at Héberville, the breakdown of his motor, his manner of questioning the people at the inn and of gaining admission to the farm: were not all these part and parcel of a put-up job, the trick of a cracksman who had learnt the story from the papers and who had come to try his luck on the spot?⁠ ⁠…

“Jolly smart of him!” said the innkeeper. “He must have taken the money from old Trainard’s pocket, before our eyes, while he was searching him.”

“Impossible!” spluttered Farmer Goussot. “He would have been seen going out that way⁠ ⁠… by the house⁠ ⁠… whereas he’s strolling in the orchard.”

Mother Goussot, all of a heap, suggested:

“The little door at the end, down there?⁠ ⁠…”

“The key never leaves me.”

“But you showed it to him.”

“Yes; and I took it back again.⁠ ⁠… Look, here it is.”

He clapped his hand to his pocket and uttered a cry:

“Oh, dash it all, it’s gone!⁠ ⁠… He’s sneaked it!⁠ ⁠…”

He at once rushed away, followed and escorted by his sons and a number of the villagers.

When they were halfway down the orchard, they heard the throb of a motorcar, obviously the one belonging to the stranger, who had given orders to his chauffeur to wait for him at that lower entrance.

When the Goussots reached the door, they saw scrawled with a brick, on the worm-eaten panel, the two words:

“Arsène Lupin.”

Stick to it as the angry Goussots might, they found it impossible to prove that old Trainard had stolen any money. Twenty persons had to bear witness that, when all was said, nothing was discovered on his person. He escaped with a few months’ imprisonment for the assault.

He did not regret them. As soon as he was released, he was secretly informed that, every quarter, on a given date, at a given hour, under a given milestone on a given road, he would find three gold louis.

To a man like old Trainard that means wealth.

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

“A very high one, my dear fellow.”

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

“It’s a bad habit; and I’m sorry for it. But what can I say? It’s the way of the world. 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 ratepayer!”

“What else am I? I may have peculiar views about other people’s property; but I assure you that it’s very different when my own’s at stake. By Jove, it doesn’t do to lay hands on what belongs to me! 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 instincts of a retired tradesman and a due respect for every sort of tradition and authority. And that is why Ganimard inspires me with no little gratitude and esteem.”

“But not much admiration?”

“Plenty of admiration too. Over and above the dauntless courage which comes natural to all those gentry at the Criminal Investigation Department, Ganimard possesses very sterling qualities: decision, insight and judgment. I have watched him at work. 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 that you don’t know it at all. 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. It was a regular game of chess, 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 truth quite out of the common, I assure you.”

“May I hope to hear it?”

“Certainly⁠ ⁠… one of these days⁠ ⁠… when I have time.⁠ ⁠… But the Brunelli is dancing at the Opera tonight; and, if she were not to see me in my stall⁠ ⁠… !”

I do not meet Lupin often. He confesses with difficulty, 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 main features are well known and I will merely mention the facts.

Three years ago, when the train from Brest arrived at Rennes, the door of one of the luggage vans was found smashed in. This van had been booked by Colonel Sparmiento, a rich Brazilian, who was travelling with his wife in the same train. It contained a complete set of tapestry-hangings. The case in which one of these was packed had been broken open and the tapestry had disappeared.

Colonel Sparmiento started proceedings against the railway-company, claiming heavy damages, not only for the stolen tapestry, but also for the loss in value which the whole collection suffered in consequence of the theft.

The police instituted inquiries. The company offered a large reward. A fortnight 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 next day for