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

“Come, chief, you’re forgetting that Colonel Sparmiento has been the victim of an important robbery and that, though he may be dead, at least his widow remains. So it’s his widow who will get the money.”

“What money?”

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

M. Dudouis was staggered. The whole business suddenly became clear to him, with its real meaning. He muttered:

“That’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?”

“Just so. In five different companies.”

“And has Mme. Sparmiento had the money?”

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

“But this is terrible! You ought to have.⁠ ⁠…”

“What, chief? To begin with, they took advantage of my absence to settle up accounts with the companies. I only heard about it on my return when I ran up against an insurance-manager whom I happen to know and took the opportunity of drawing him out.”

The chief-detective was silent for some time, not knowing what to say. Then he mumbled:

“What a fellow, though!”

Ganimard nodded his head:

“Yes, chief, a blackguard, but, I can’t help saying, a devil of a clever fellow. For his plan to succeed, he must have managed in such a way that, for four or five weeks, no one could express or even conceive the least suspicion of the part played by Colonel Sparmiento. All the indignation and all the inquiries had to be concentrated upon Lupin alone. In the last resort, people had to find themselves faced simply with a mournful, pitiful, penniless widow, poor Edith Swan-neck, a beautiful and legendary vision, a creature so pathetic that the gentlemen of the insurance-companies were almost glad 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 take their eyes from each other’s faces.

The chief asked:

“Who is that woman?”

“Sonia Kritchnoff.”

“Sonia Kritchnoff?”

“Yes, the Russian girl whom I arrested last year at the time of the theft of the coronet, and whom Lupin helped to escape.”5

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I was put off the scent, like everybody else, by Lupin’s machinations, and had paid no particular attention to her. But, when I knew the part which she was playing, I remembered. She is certainly Sonia, metamorphosed into an Englishwoman; Sonia, the most innocent-looking and the trickiest of actresses; Sonia, who would not hesitate to face death for love of Lupin.”

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

“I’ve something better still for you, chief!”

“Really? What?”

“Lupin’s old foster-mother.”

“Victoire?”6

“She has been here since Mme. Sparmiento began playing the widow; she’s the cook.”

“Oho!” said M. Dudouis. “My congratulations, Ganimard!”

“I’ve something for you, chief, that’s even better than that!”

M. Dudouis gave a start. The inspector’s hand clutched his and was shaking 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 attractive to offer you than Sonia and Victoire? Pah! They’d have kept!”

“You mean to say⁠ ⁠… ?” whispered M. Dudouis, at last, understanding the chief-inspector’s agitation.

“You’ve guessed it, chief!”

“Is he here?”

“He’s here.”

“In hiding?”

“Not a bit of it. Simply in disguise. He’s the manservant.”

This time, M. Dudouis did not utter a word nor make a gesture. Lupin’s audacity confounded him.

Ganimard chuckled.

“It’s no longer a threefold, but a fourfold incarnation. Edith Swan-neck might have blundered. The master’s presence was necessary; and he had the cheek to return. 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 of making-up his face and altering the proportions of his body so as to prevent anyone from knowing him. Besides, I was miles from suspecting.⁠ ⁠… But, this evening, as I was watching Sonia in the shadow of the stairs, I heard Victoire speak to the manservant and call him, ‘Dearie.’ A light flashed in upon me. ‘Dearie!’ That was what she always used to call him. And I knew where I was.”

M. Dudouis seemed flustered, in his turn, by the presence of the enemy, so often pursued and always so intangible:

“We’ve got 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.”

M. Dudouis suddenly became anxious:

“Why, it was through the windows of one of those floors that the tapestries were passed when they disappeared!”

“That’s so, chief.”

“In that case, Lupin can get away too. The windows look out on the Rue Dufresnoy.”

“Of course they do, chief; but I have taken my precautions. The moment you arrived, I sent four of our men to keep watch under the windows in the Rue Dufresnoy. They have strict instructions to shoot, if anyone appears at the windows and looks like coming down. Blank cartridges for the first shot, ball-cartridges for the next.”

“Good, Ganimard! You have thought of everything. We’ll wait here; and, immediately after sunrise.⁠ ⁠…”

“Wait, chief? Stand on ceremony with that rascal? Bother about rules and regulations, legal hours and all that rot? And suppose he’s not quite so polite to us and gives us the slip meanwhile? Suppose he plays us one of his Lupin tricks? No, no, we must have no nonsense! We’ve got him: let’s collar him; and that without delay!”

And Ganimard, all a-quiver with indignant impatience, went out, walked across the garden and presently returned with half-a-dozen men:

“It’s all right, chief. I’ve told them, in the Rue Dufresnoy, to get their revolvers out and aim at the windows. Come along.”

These alarums and excursions had not been effected without a certain amount of noise, which was bound to be heard by the inhabitants of the house. M. Dudouis felt that his hand was forced. He made up