The Crystal Stopper - Maurice Leblanc (best ereader for epub .txt) 📗

others. Same behaviour. Same tricks. Only there’s this difference⁠ ⁠…”

What difference? He hardly knew. The truth was that he too was baffled and disconcerted to the inmost recesses of his being and that he was continuing to act only from obstinacy, from a sense of duty, so to speak, and without putting his ordinary good humour and high spirits into the work.

“Come along,” he said to his accomplices.

By his instructions, the chauffeur set them down near the Square Lamartine, but kept the motor going. Lupin foresaw that Daubrecq, in order to escape the detectives watching the house, would jump into the first taxi; and he did not intend to be outdistanced.

He had not allowed for Daubrecq’s cleverness.

At half-past seven both leaves of the garden-gate were flung open, a bright light flashed and a motorcycle darted across the road, skirted the square, turned in front of the motorcar and shot away toward the Bois at a speed so great that they would have been mad to go in pursuit of it.

“Goodbye, Daisy!” said Lupin, trying to jest, but really overcome with rage.

He eyed his accomplices in the hope that one of them would venture to give a mocking smile. How pleased he would have been to vent his nerves on them!

“Let’s go home,” he said to his companions.

He gave them some dinner; then he smoked a cigar and they set off again in the car and went the round of the theatres, beginning with those which were giving light operas and musical comedies, for which he presumed that Daubrecq and his lady would have a preference. He took a stall, inspected the lower-tier boxes and went away again.

He next drove to the more serious theatres: the Renaissance, the Gymnase.

At last, at ten o’clock in the evening, he saw a pit-tier box at the Vaudeville almost entirely protected from inspection by its two screens; and, on tipping the boxkeeper, was told that it contained a short, stout, elderly gentleman and a lady who was wearing a thick lace veil.

The next box was free. He took it, went back to his friends to give them their instructions and sat down near the couple.

During the entr’acte, when the lights went up, he perceived Daubrecq’s profile. The lady remained at the back of the box, invisible. The two were speaking in a low voice; and, when the curtain rose again, they went on speaking, but in such a way that Lupin could not distinguish a word.

Ten minutes passed. Someone tapped at their door. It was one of the men from the box-office.

“Are you M. le Député Daubrecq, sir?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Daubrecq, in a voice of surprise. “But how do you know my name?”

“There’s a gentleman asking for you on the telephone. He told me to go to Box 22.”

“But who is it?”

“M. le Marquis d’Albufex.”

“Eh?”

“What am I to say, sir?”

“I’m coming⁠ ⁠… I’m coming⁠ ⁠…”

Daubrecq rose hurriedly from his seat and followed the clerk to the box-office.

He was not yet out of sight when Lupin sprang from his box, worked the lock of the next door and sat down beside the lady.

She gave a stifled cry.

“Hush!” he said. “I have to speak to you. It is most important.”

“Ah!” she said, between her teeth. “Arsène Lupin!” He was dumbfounded. For a moment he sat quiet, open-mouthed. The woman knew him! And not only did she know him, but she had recognized him through his disguise! Accustomed though he was to the most extraordinary and unusual events, this disconcerted him.

He did not even dream of protesting and stammered:

“So you know?⁠ ⁠… So you know?⁠ ⁠…”

He snatched at the lady’s veil and pulled it aside before she had time to defend herself:

“What!” he muttered, with increased amazement. “Is it possible?”

It was the woman whom he had seen at Daubrecq’s a few days earlier, the woman who had raised her dagger against Daubrecq and who had intended to stab him with all the strength of her hatred.

It was her turn to be taken aback:

“What! Have you seen me before?⁠ ⁠…”

“Yes, the other night, at his house⁠ ⁠… I saw what you tried to do⁠ ⁠…”

She made a movement to escape. He held her back and, speaking with great eagerness:

“I must know who you are,” he said. “That was why I had Daubrecq telephoned for.”

She looked aghast:

“Do you mean to say it was not the Marquis d’Albufex?”

“No, it was one of my assistants.”

“Then Daubrecq will come back?⁠ ⁠…”

“Yes, but we have time⁠ ⁠… Listen to me⁠ ⁠… We must meet again⁠ ⁠… He is your enemy⁠ ⁠… I will save you from him⁠ ⁠…”

“Why should you? What is your object?”

“Do not distrust me⁠ ⁠… it is quite certain that our interests are identical⁠ ⁠… Where can I see you? Tomorrow, surely? At what time? And where?”

“Well⁠ ⁠…”

She looked at him with obvious hesitation, not knowing what to do, on the point of speaking and yet full of uneasiness and doubt.

He pressed her:

“Oh, I entreat you⁠ ⁠… answer me just one word⁠ ⁠… and at once⁠ ⁠… It would be a pity for him to find me here⁠ ⁠… I entreat you⁠ ⁠…”

She answered sharply:

“My name doesn’t matter⁠ ⁠… We will see each other first and you shall explain to me⁠ ⁠… Yes, we will meet⁠ ⁠… Listen, tomorrow, at three o’clock, at the corner of the Boulevard⁠ ⁠…”

At that exact moment, the door of the box opened, so to speak, with a bang, and Daubrecq appeared.

“Rats!” Lupin mumbled, under his breath, furious at being caught before obtaining what he wanted.

Daubrecq gave a chuckle:

“So that’s it⁠ ⁠… I thought something was up⁠ ⁠… Ah, the telephone-trick: a little out of date, sir! I had not gone halfway when I turned back.”

He pushed Lupin to the front of the box and, sitting down beside the lady, said:

“And, now my lord, who are we? A servant at the police-office, probably? There’s a professional look about that mug of yours.”

He stared hard at Lupin, who did not move a muscle, and tried to put a name to the face, but failed to recognize the man whom he had called Polonius.

Lupin, without taking his eyes from Daubrecq either,