813 - Maurice LeBlanc (best short novels of all time TXT) 📗
- Author: Maurice LeBlanc
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“Hullo!… Put me on to Garches, please, mademoiselle… Very well, I’ll wait till you ring me up…”
He sat down to the instrument.
The telephone-bell rang.
“Hullo!” said Altenheim. “Is that Garches?… Yes, that’s right… Give me number 38, please, mademoiselle…”
A few seconds later, in a lower voice, as low and as distinct as he could make it, he began:
“Are you 38?… It’s I speaking; no useless words… Yesterday?… Yes, you missed him hi the garden… Another time, of course; but the thing’s becoming urgent… He had the house searched last night… I’ll tell you about it… Found nothing, of course… What?… Hullo!… No, old Steinweg refuses to speak… Threats, promises, nothing’s any good… Hullo!… Yes, of course, he sees that we can do nothing… We know just a part of the Kesselbach scheme and of the story of Pierre Leduc… He’s the only one who has the answer to the riddle… Oh, he’ll speak all right; that I’ll answer for… this very night, too… If not… What?… Well, what can we do? Anything rather than let him escape! Do you want the prince to bag him from us? As for the prince, we shall have to cook his goose in three days from now… You have an idea?… Yes, that’s a good idea… Oh, oh, excellent! I’ll see to it… When shall we meet? Will Tuesday do? Right you are. I’ll come on Tuesday… at two o’clock… Good-bye.”
He replaced the receiver and went out.
A few hours later, while the servants were at lunch, Prince Sernine strolled quietly out of the Villa Dupont, feeling rather faint in the head and weak in the knees, and, while making for the nearest restaurant, he thus summed up the situation:
“So, on Tuesday next, Altenheim and the Palace Hotel murderer have an appointment at Garches, in a house with the telephone number 38. On Tuesday, therefore, I shall hand over the two criminals to the police and set M. Lenormand at liberty. In the evening, it will be old Steinweg’s turn; and I shall learn, at last, whether Pierre Leduc is the son of a pork-butcher or not and whether he will make a suitable husband for GeneviŽve. So be it!”
At eleven o’clock on Tuesday morning Valenglay, the prime minister, sent for the prefect of police and M. Weber, the deputy-chief of the detective-service, and showed them an express letter which he had just received:
“monsieur Le President Du Conseil,
“Knowing the interest which you take in M. Lenormand, I am writing to inform you of certain facts which chance has revealed to me.
“M. Lenormand is locked up in the cellars of the Villa des Glycines at Garches, near the House of Retreat.
“The ruffians of the Palace Hotel have resolved to murder him at two o’clock to-day.. “If the police require my assistance, they will find me at half-past one in the garden of the House of Retreat, or at the garden-house occupied by Mrs. Kesselbach, whose friend I have the honor to be.
“I am, Monsieur le President du Conseil,
“Your obedient servant,
“prince Sernine.”
“This is an exceedingly grave matter, my dear M. Weber,” said Valenglay. “I may add that we can have every confidence in the accuracy of Prince Sernine’s statements. I have often met him at dinner. He is a serious, intelligent man…”
“Will you allow me, Monsieur le President,” asked the deputy-chief detective, “to show you another letter which I also received this morning?”
“About the same case?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see it.”
He took the letter and read:
“SiR,
“This is to inform you that Prince Paul Sernine, who calls himself Mrs. Kesselbach’s friend, is really ArsŽne Lupin.
“One proof will be sufficient: Paul Sernine is the anagram of ArsŽne Lupin. Not a letter more, not a letter less.
“L. M.”
And M. Weber added, while Valenglay stood amazed:
“This time, our friend Lupin has found an adversary who is a match for him. While he denounces the other, the other betrays him to us. And the fox is caught in the trap.”
“What do you propose to do?”
“Monsieur le President, I shall take two hundred men with mel”
A QUARTER past twelve, in a restaurant near the Madeleine. The prince is at lunch. Two young men sit down at the next table. He bows to them and begins to speak to them, as to friends whom he has met by chance.
“Are you going on the expedition, eh?”
“Yes.”
“How many men altogether?”
“Six, I think. Each goes down by himself. We’re to meet M. Weber at a quarter to two, near the House of Retreat.”
“Very well, I shall be there.”
“What?”
“Am I not leading the expedition? And isn’t it my business to find M. Lenormand, seeing that I’ve announced it publicly?”
“Then you believe that M. Lenormand is not dead, governor?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Do you know anything?”
“Yes, since yesterday I know for certain that Altenheim and his gang took M. Lenormand and Gourel to the bridge at Bougival and heaved them overboard. Gourel sank, but M. Lenormand managed to save himself. I shall furnish all the necessary proofs when the time comes.”
“But, then, if he’s alive, why doesn’t he show himself?”
“Because he’s not free.”
“Is what you said true, then? Is he in the cellars of the Villa d’es Glycines?”
“I have every reason to think so.”
“But how do you know?… What clue?…”
“That’s my secret. I can tell you one thing: the revelation will be—what shall I say—sensational. Have you finished?”
“Yes.”
“My car is behind the Madeleine. Join me there.”
At Garches, Sernine sent the motor away, and they walked to the path that led to GeneviŽve’s school. There he stopped:
“Listen to me, lads. This is of the highest importance. You will ring at the House of Retreat. As inspectors, you have your right of entry, have you not? You will then go to the Pavilion Hortense, the empty one. There you will run down to the basement and you will find an old shutter, which you have only to lift to see the opening of a tunnel which I discovered lately and which forms a direct communication with the Villa des Glycines. It was by means of this that Gertrude and Baron Altenheim used to meet. And it was this way that M. Lenormand passed, only to end be falling into the hands of his enemies.”
“You think so, governor?”
“Yes, I think so. And now the point is this: you must go and make sure that the tunnel is exactly in the condition in which I left it last night; that the two doors which bar it are open; and that there is still, in a hole near the second door, a parcel wrapped in a piece of black cloth which I put there myself.”
‘ “Are we to undo the parcel?”
“No, that’s not necessary. It’s a change of clothes. Go; and don’t let yourselves be seen more than you can help. I will wait for you.”
Ten minutes later, they were back:
“The two doors are open,” said one of the Doudevilles.
“And the black cloth parcel?”
“In its place near the second door.”
“Capital! It is twenty-five past one. Weber will be arriving with his champions. They are to watch the villa. They will surround it as soon as Altenheim is inside. I have arranged with Weber that I shall ring the bell; the door will be opened; and I shall have my foot inside the citadel. Once there, I have my plan. Come, I’ve an idea that we shall see some fun.”
And Sernine, after dismissing them, walked down the path to the school, soliloquizing as he went:
“All bodes well. The battle will be fought on the ground chosen by myself. I am bound to win. I shall get rid of my two adversaries and I shall find myself alone engaged in the Kesselbach case… alone, with two whacking trump-cards: Pierre Leduc and Steinweg… Besides the king… that is to say, Bibi. Only, there’s one thing: what is Altenheim up to? Obviously, he has a plan of attack of his own. On which side does he mean to attack me? And how does it come that he has not attacked me yet? It’s rather startling. Can he have denounced me to the police?”
He went along the little playground of the school. The pupils were at their lessons. He knocked at the door.
“Ah, is that you?” said Mme. Ernemont, opening the door. “So you have left GeneviŽve in Paris?.
“For me to do that, GeneviŽve would have to be in Paris,” he replied.
“So she has been, seeing that you sent for her.”
“What’s that?“he exclaimed, catching hold of her arm.
“Why, you know better than I!”
“I know nothing… I know nothing… Speak!…”
“Didn’t you write to GeneviŽve to meet you at the Gare Saint-Lazare?”
“And did she go?”
“Why, of course… You were to lunch together at the Hotel Ritz.”
“The letter… Show me the letter.”
She went to fetch it and gave it to him.
“But, wretched woman, couldn’t you see that it was a forgery? The handwriting is a good imitation… but it’s a forgery… Any one can see that.” He pressed his clenched hands to his temples with rage. “That’s the move I was wondering about. Oh, the dirty scoundrel! He’s attacking me through her… But how does he know? No, he does not know… He’s tried it on twice now… and it’s because of GeneviŽve, because he’s taken a fancy to her… Oh, not that! Never! Listen, Victoire, are you sure that she doesn’t love him?… Oh, I’m losing my head!… Wait… wait!… I must think… this isn’t the moment…”
He looked at his watch:
“Twenty-five minutes to two… I have time…. Idiot that I am! Time to do what? How do I know where she is?”
He walked up and down like a madman; and his old nurse seemed astounded at seeing him so excited, with so little control of himself:
“After all,” she said, “there is nothing to prove that she did not suspect the trap at the last moment…”
“Where could she be?”
“I don’t know… perhaps at Mrs. Kesselbach’s.”
“That’s true… that’s true… You’re right,” he cried, filled with sudden hope..
And he set out at a run for the House of Retreat.
On the way, near the gate, he met the brothers Doudeville, who were entering the porter’s lodge. The lodge looked out on the road; and this enabled them to watch the approaches to the Villa des Glycines. Without stopping, he went straight to the Pavilion de l’Imperatrice, called Suzanne and told her to take him to Mrs. Kesselbach.
“GeneviŽve?” he asked.
“GeneviŽve?”
“Yes; hasn’t she been here?”
“No, not for several days…”
“But she is to come, is she not?”
“Do you think so?”
“Why, I’m certain of it. Where do you think she is? Can you remember?…”
“It’s no use my trying. I assure you that GeneviŽve and I had made no<>arrangement to see each other.” And, suddenly alarmed: “But you’re not anxious, are you? Has anything happened to GeneviŽve?”
“No, nothing.”
He had already left the room. An idea had occurred to him. Suppose Altenheim were not at the Villa des Glycines? Suppose the hour of the meeting had been changed!
“I must see him,” he said to himself. “I must, at all costs.”
And he ran along with a disordered air, indifferent to everything. But, in front of the lodge, he at once recovered his composure: he had caught sight of the deputy-chief of the detective-service talking to the brothers Doudeville in the garden.
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