The Teeth of the Tiger, Maurice Leblanc [top 10 inspirational books TXT] 📗

“I am quite willing to believe it,” said the Prime Minister. “But as all these documents, according to the letter that came with them, are only photographs, and as, if you are not arrested this morning, the originals are to be handed to a leading Paris newspaper tonight, we are obliged to take note of the accusation.”

“But, Monsieur le Président,” exclaimed Don Luis, “as Caceres is abroad and as the scoundrel who bought the papers of him was also obliged to take to flight before he was able to execute his threats, there is no fear now that the documents will be handed to the press.”

“How do we know? The enemy must have taken his precautions. He may have accomplices.”

“He has none.”

“How do we know?”

Don Luis looked at Valenglay and said:

“What is it that you really wish to say, Monsieur le Président?”

“I will tell you. Although pressure was brought to bear upon us by Caceres’s threats, Monsieur le Préfet de Police, anxious to see all possible light shed on the plot played by Florence Levasseur, did not interfere with your last night’s expedition. As that expedition led to nothing, he determined, at any rate, to profit by the fact that Don Luis had placed himself at our disposal and to arrest Arsène Lupin.

“If we now let him go the documents will certainly be published; and you can see the absurd and ridiculous position in which that will place us in the eyes of the public. Well, at this very moment, you ask for the release of Arsène Lupin, a release which would be illegal, uncalled for, and inexcusable. I am obliged, therefore, to refuse it, and I do refuse it.”

He ceased; and then, after a few seconds, he added:

“Unless⁠—”

“Unless?” asked Don Luis.

“Unless⁠—and this is what I wanted to say⁠—unless you offer me in exchange something so extraordinary and so tremendous that I could consent to risk the annoyance which the absurd release of Arsène Lupin would bring down upon my head.”

“But, Monsieur le President, surely, if I bring you the real criminal, the murderer of⁠—”

“I don’t need your assistance for that.”

“And if I give you my word of honour, Monsieur le Président, to return the moment my task is done and give myself up?”

Valenglay struck the table with his fist and, raising his voice, addressed Don Luis with a certain genial familiarity:

“Come, Arsène Lupin,” he said, “play the game! If you really want to have your way, pay for it! Hang it all, remember that after all this business, and especially after the incidents of last night, you and Florence Levasseur will be to the public what you already are: the responsible actors in the tragedy; nay, more, the real and only criminals. And it is now, when Florence Levasseur has taken to her heels, that you come and ask me for your liberty! Very well, but damn it, set a price to it and don’t haggle with me!”

“I am not haggling, Monsieur le Président,” declared Don Luis, in a very straightforward manner and tone. “What I have to offer you is certainly much more extraordinary and tremendous than you imagine. But if it were twice as extraordinary and twice as tremendous, it would not count once Florence Levasseur’s life is in danger. Nevertheless, I was entitled to try for a less expensive transaction. Of this your words remove all hope. I will therefore lay my cards upon the table, as you demand, and as I had made up my mind to do.”

He sat down opposite Valenglay, in the attitude of a man treating with another on equal terms.

“I shall not be long. A single sentence, Monsieur le President, will express the bargain which I am proposing to the Prime Minister of my country.”

And, looking Valenglay straight in the eyes, he said slowly, syllable by syllable:

“In exchange for twenty-four hours’ liberty and no more, undertaking on my honour to return here tomorrow morning and to return here either with Florence, to give you every proof of her innocence, or without her, to constitute myself a prisoner, I offer you⁠—”

He took his time and, in a serious voice, concluded:

“I offer you a kingdom, Monsieur le Président du Conseil.”

The sentence sounded bombastic and ludicrous, sounded silly enough to provoke a shrug of the shoulders, sounded like one of those sentences which only an imbecile or a lunatic could utter. And yet Valenglay remained impassive. He knew that, in such circumstances as the present, the man before him was not the man to indulge in jesting.

And he knew it so fully that, instinctively, accustomed as he was to momentous political questions in which secrecy is of the utmost importance, he cast a glance toward the Prefect of Police, as though M. Desmalions’s presence in the room hindered him.

“I positively insist,” said Don Luis, “that Monsieur le Préfet de Police shall stay and hear what I have to say. He is better able than anyone else to appreciate the value of it; and he will bear witness to its correctness in certain particulars.”

“Speak!” said Valenglay.

His curiosity knew no bounds. He did not much care whether Don Luis’s proposal could have any practical results. In his heart he did not believe in it. But what he wanted to know was the lengths to which that demon of audacity was prepared to go, and on what new prodigious adventure he based the pretensions which he was putting forward so calmly and frankly.

Don Luis smiled:

“Will you allow me?” he asked.

Rising and going to the mantelpiece, he took down from the wall a small map representing Northwest Africa. He spread it on the table, placed different objects on the four corners to hold it in position, and resumed:

“There is one matter, Monsieur le Président, which puzzled Monsieur le Préfet de Police and about which I know that he caused inquiries to be made; and that matter is how I employed my time, or, rather, how Arsène Lupin employed his time during