Arsène Lupin by Maurice Leblanc (best books to read TXT) 📗
- Author: Maurice Leblanc
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“I undertake to do it,” said Guerchard confidently.
“But how?” said Lupin, looking at him with an expression of the gravest doubt.
“Oh, I’ll put the thefts on your shoulders. That will let her out all right,” said Guerchard.
“I’ve certainly good broad shoulders,” said Lupin, with a bitter smile. He walked slowly up and down with an air that grew more and more depressed: it was almost the air of a beaten man. Then he stopped and faced Guerchard, and said: “And what is it you want in exchange?”
“Everything,” said Guerchard, with the air of a man who is winning. “You must give me back the pictures, tapestry, Renaissance cabinets, the coronet, and all the information about the death of the Duke of Charmerace. Did you kill him?”
“If ever I commit suicide, you’ll know all about it, my good Guerchard. You’ll be there. You may even join me,” said Lupin grimly; he resumed his pacing up and down the room.
“Done for, yes; I shall be done for,” he said presently. “The fact is, you want my skin.”
“Yes, I want your skin,” said Guerchard, in a low, savage, vindictive tone.
“My skin,” said Lupin thoughtfully.
“Are you going to do it? Think of that girl,” said Guerchard, in a fresh access of uneasy anxiety.
Lupin laughed: “I can give you a glass of port,” he said, “but I’m afraid that’s all I can do for you.”
“I’ll throw Victoire in,” said Guerchard.
“What?” cried Lupin. “You’ve arrested Victoire?” There was a ring of utter dismay, almost despair, in his tone.
“Yes; and I’ll throw her in. She shall go scot-free. I won’t bother with her,” said Guerchard eagerly.
The front-door bell rang.
“Wait, wait. Let me think,” said Lupin hoarsely; and he strove to adjust his jostling ideas, to meet with a fresh plan this fresh disaster.
He stood listening with all his ears. There were footsteps on the stairs, and the door opened. Dieusy stood on the threshold.
“Who is it?” said Guerchard.
“I accept—I accept everything,” cried Lupin in a frantic tone.
“It’s a tradesman; am I to detain him?” said Dieusy. “You told me to let you know who came and take instructions.”
“A tradesman? Then I refuse!” cried Lupin, in an ecstasy of relief.
“No, you needn’t keep him,” said Guerchard, to Dieusy.
Dieusy went out and shut the door.
“You refuse?” said Guerchard.
“I refuse,” said Lupin.
“I’m going to gaol that girl,” said Guerchard savagely; and he took a step towards the door.
“Not for long,” said Lupin quietly. “You have no proof.”
“She’ll furnish the proof all right herself—plenty of proofs,” said Guerchard brutally. “What chance has a silly child like that got, when we really start questioning her? A delicate creature like that will crumple up before the end of the third day’s cross-examination.”
“You swine!” said Lupin. “You know well enough that I can do it—on my head—with a feeble child like that; and you know your Code; five years is the minimum,” said Guerchard, in a tone of relentless brutality, watching him carefully, sticking to his hope.
“By Jove, I could wring your neck!” said Lupin, trembling with fury. By a violent effort he controlled himself, and said thoughtfully, “After all, if I give up everything to you, I shall be free to take it back one of these days.”
“Oh, no doubt, when you come out of prison,” said Guerchard ironically; and he laughed a grim, jeering laugh.
“I’ve got to go to prison first,” said Lupin quietly.
“Pardon me—if you accept, I mean to arrest you,” said Guerchard.
“Manifestly you’ll arrest me if you can,” said Lupin.
“Do you accept?” said Guerchard. And again his voice quivered with anxiety.
“Well,” said Lupin. And he paused as if finally weighing the matter.
“Well?” said Guerchard, and his voice shook.
“Well—no!” said Lupin; and he laughed a mocking laugh.
“You won’t?” said Guerchard between his teeth.
“No; you wish to catch me. This is just a ruse,” said Lupin, in quiet, measured tones. “At bottom you don’t care a hang about Sonia, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. You will not arrest her. And then, if you did you have no proofs. There ARE no proofs. As for the pendant, you’d have to prove it. You can’t prove it. You can’t prove that it was in her possession one moment. Where is the pendant?” He paused, and then went on in the same quiet tone: “No, Guerchard; after having kept out of your clutches for the last ten years, I’m not going to be caught to save this child, who is not even in danger. She has a very useful friend in the Duke of Charmerace. I refuse.”
Guerchard stared at him, scowling, biting his lips, seeking a fresh point of attack. For the moment he knew himself baffled, but he still clung tenaciously to the struggle in which victory would be so precious.
The front-door bell rang again.
“There’s a lot of ringing at your bell this morning,” said Guerchard, under his breath; and hope sprang afresh in him.
Again they stood silent, waiting.
Dieusy opened the door, put in his head, and said, “It’s Mademoiselle Kritchnoff.”
“Collar her! ... Here’s the warrant! ... collar her!” shouted Guerchard, with savage, triumphant joy.
“Never! You shan’t touch her! By Heaven, you shan’t touch her!” cried Lupin frantically; and he sprang like a tiger at Guerchard.
Guerchard jumped to the other side of the table. “Will you accept, then?” he cried.
Lupin gripped the edge of the table with both hands, and stood panting, grinding his teeth, pale with fury. He stood silent and motionless for perhaps half a minute, gazing at Guerchard with burning, murderous eyes. Then he nodded his head.
“Let Mademoiselle Kritchnoff wait,” said Guerchard, with a sigh of deep relief. Dieusy went out of the room.
“Now let us settle exactly how we stand,” said Lupin, in a clear, incisive voice. “The bargain is this: If I give you the pictures, the tapestry, the cabinets, the coronet, and the death-certificate of the Duke of Charmerace, you give me your word of honour that Mademoiselle Kritchnoff shall not be touched.”
“That’s it!” said Guerchard eagerly.
“Once I deliver these things to you, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff passes out of the game.”
“Yes,” said Guerchard.
“Whatever happens afterwards. If I get back anything—if I escape—she goes scot-free,” said Lupin.
“Yes,” said Guerchard; and his eyes were shining.
“On your word of honour?” said Lupin.
“On my word of honour,” said Guerchard.
“Very well,” said Lupin, in a quiet, businesslike voice. “To begin with, here in this pocket-book you’ll find all the documents relating to the death of the Duke of Charmerace. In it you will also find the receipt of the Plantin furniture repository at Batignolles for the objects of art which I collected at Gournay-Martin’s. I sent them to Batignolles because, in my letters asking the owners of valuables to forward them to me, I always make Batignolles the place to which they are to be sent; therefore I knew that you would never look there. They are all in cases; for, while you were making those valuable inquiries yesterday, my men were putting them into cases. You’ll not find the receipt in the name of either the Duke of Charmerace or my own. It is in the name of a respected proprietor of Batignolles, a M. Pierre Servien. But he has lately left that charming suburb, and I do not think he will return to it.”
Guerchard almost snatched the pocket-book out of his hand. He verified the documents in it with greedy eyes; and then he put them back in it, and stuffed it into the breast-pocket of his coat.
“And where’s the coronet?” he said, in an excited voice.
“You’re nearly standing on it,” said Lupin.
“It’s in that kit-bag at your feet, on the top of the change of clothes in it.”
Guerchard snatched up the kit-bag, opened it, and took out the coronet.
“I’m afraid I haven’t the case,” said Lupin, in a tone of regret. “If you remember, I left it at Gournay-Martin’s—in your charge.”
Guerchard examined the coronet carefully. He looked at the stones in it; he weighed it in his right hand, and he weighed it in his left.
“Are you sure it’s the real one?” said Lupin, in a tone of acute but affected anxiety. “Do not—oh, do not let us have any more of these painful mistakes about it. They are so wearing.”
“Yes—yes—this is the real one,” said Guerchard, with another deep sigh of relief.
“Well, have you done bleeding me?” said Lupin contemptuously.
“Your arms,” said Guerchard quickly.
“They weren’t in the bond,” said Lupin. “But here you are.” And he threw his revolver on the table.
Guerchard picked it up and put it into his pocket. He looked at Lupin as if he could not believe his eyes, gloating over him. Then he said in a deep, triumphant tone:
“And now for the handcuffs!”
THE END OF THE DUEL
“The handcuffs?” said Lupin; and his face fell. Then it cleared; and he added lightly, “After all, there’s nothing like being careful; and, by Jove, with me you need to be. I might get away yet. What luck it is for you that I’m so soft, so little of a Charmerace, so human! Truly, I can’t be much of a man of the world, to be in love like this!”
“Come, come, hold out your hands!” said Guerchard, jingling the handcuffs impatiently.
“I should like to see that child for the last time,” said Lupin gently.
“All right,” said Guerchard.
“Arsène Lupin—and nabbed by you! If you aren’t in luck! Here you are!” said Lupin bitterly; and he held out his wrists.
Guerchard snapped the handcuffs on them with a grunt of satisfaction.
Lupin gazed down at them with a bitter face, and said: “Oh, you are in luck! You’re not married by any chance?”
“Yes, yes; I am,” said Guerchard hastily; and he went quickly to the door and opened it: “Dieusy!” he called. “Dieusy! Mademoiselle Kritchnoff is at liberty. Tell her so, and bring her in here.”
Lupin started back, flushed and scowling; he cried: “With these things on my hands! ... No! ... I can’t see her!”
Guerchard stood still, looking at him. Lupin’s scowl slowly softened, and he said, half to himself, “But I should have liked to see her ... very much ... for if she goes like that ... I shall not know when or where—” He stopped short, raised his eyes, and said in a decided tone: “Ah, well, yes; I should like to see her.”
“If you’ve quite made up your mind,” said Guerchard impatiently, and he went into the anteroom.
Lupin stood very still, frowning thoughtfully. He heard footsteps on the stairs, and then the voice of Guerchard in the anteroom, saying, in a jeering tone, “You’re free, mademoiselle; and you can thank the Duke for it. You owe your liberty to him.”
“Free! And I owe it to him?” cried the voice of Sonia, ringing and golden with extravagant joy.
“Yes, mademoiselle,” said Guerchard. “You owe it to him.”
She came through the open door, flushed deliciously and smiling, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. Lupin had never seen her look half so adorable.
“Is it to you I owe it? Then I shall owe everything to you. Oh, thank you—thank you!” she cried, holding out her hands to him.
Lupin half turned away from her to hide his handcuffs.
She misunderstood the movement. Her face fell suddenly like that of a child rebuked: “Oh, I was wrong. I was wrong to come here!” she cried quickly, in changed, dolorous tones. “I thought yesterday ... I made a mistake ... pardon me. I’m going. I’m going.”
Lupin was looking at her over his shoulder, standing sideways to hide the handcuffs. He said sadly. “Sonia—”
“No, no, I understand! It was impossible!” she cried quickly, cutting him short. “And yet if you only knew—if you knew how I have changed—with what a changed spirit I came here.... Ah, I swear that now I hate all my past. I loathe it. I swear that now the mere presence of a thief would overwhelm me with disgust.”
“Hush!” said Lupin, flushing deeply, and wincing. “Hush!”
“But, after all, you’re right,” she said, in a gentler voice. “One can’t wipe out what one has done. If I were to give back everything I’ve taken—if I were to spend years in remorse and repentance, it would be no use. In your eyes I should always be Sonia Kritchnoff, the thief!” The great tears welled slowly out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks; she let them stream unheeded.
“Sonia!” cried Lupin, protesting.
But she would not hear him. She broke out with fresh vehemence, a feverish passion: “And yet, if I’d been a thief, like so many others... but you know why I stole. I’m not trying to defend myself, but, after all, I did it to keep honest; and when I loved you it was not the heart of a thief that thrilled, it was the heart
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