The Hollow Needle - Maurice Leblanc (ebook e reader .txt) 📗

employed it to an adversary. But also, I may as well tell you at once, it is the last. Make the most of it. I shall not leave this flat without a promise from you. If I do, it means war.”

Beautrelet seemed more and more surprised. He said very prettily:

“I was not prepared for this⁠—you speak so funnily! It’s so different from what I expected! Yes, I thought you were not a bit like that! Why this display of anger? Why use threats? Are we enemies because circumstances bring us into opposition? Enemies? Why?”

Lupin appeared a little out of countenance, but he snarled and, leaning over the boy:

“Listen to me, youngster,” he said. “It’s not a question of picking one’s words. It’s a question of a fact, a positive, indisputable fact; and that fact is this: in all the past ten years, I have not yet knocked up against an adversary of your capacity. With Ganimard and Holmlock Shears I played as if they were children. With you, I am obliged to defend myself, I will say more, to retreat. Yes, at this moment, you and I well know that I must look upon myself as worsted in the fight. Isidore Beautrelet has got the better of Arsène Lupin. My plans are upset. What I tried to leave in the dark you have brought into the full light of day. You annoy me, you stand in my way. Well, I’ve had enough of it⁠—Brédoux told you so to no purpose. I now tell you so again; and I insist upon it, so that you may take it to heart: I’ve had enough of it!”

Beautrelet nodded his head:

“Yes, but what do you want?”

“Peace! Each of us minding his own business, keeping to his own side!”

“That is to say, you free to continue your burglaries undisturbed, I free to return to my studies.”

“Your studies⁠—anything you please⁠—I don’t care. But you must leave me in peace⁠—I want peace.”

“How can I trouble it now?”

Lupin seized his hand violently:

“You know quite well! Don’t pretend not to know. You are at this moment in possession of a secret to which I attach the highest importance. This secret you were free to guess, but you have no right to give it to the public.”

“Are you sure that I know it?”

“You know it, I am certain: day by day, hour by hour, I have followed your train of thought and the progress of your investigations. At the very moment when Brédoux struck you, you were about to tell all. Subsequently, you delayed your revelations, out of solicitude for your father. But they are now promised to this paper here. The article is written. It will be set up in an hour. It will appear tomorrow.”

“Quite right.”

Lupin rose, and slashing the air with his hand,

“It shall not appear!” he cried.

“It shall appear!” said Beautrelet, starting up in his turn.

At last, the two men were standing up to each other. I received the impression of a shock, as if they had seized each other round the body. Beautrelet seemed to burn with a sudden energy. It was as though a spark had kindled within him a group of new emotions: pluck, self-respect, the passion of fighting, the intoxication of danger. As for Lupin, I read in the radiance of his glance the joy of the duellist who at length encounters the sword of his hated rival.

“Is the article in the printer’s hands?”

“Not yet.”

“Have you it there⁠—on you?”

“No fear! I shouldn’t have it by now, in that case!”

“Then⁠—”

“One of the assistant editors has it, in a sealed envelope. If I am not at the office by midnight, he will have set it up.”

“Oh, the scoundrel!” muttered Lupin. “He has provided for everything!”

His anger was increasing, visibly and frightfully. Beautrelet chuckled, jeering in his turn, carried away by his success.

“Stop that, you brat!” roared Lupin. “You’re forgetting who I am⁠—and that, if I wished⁠—upon my word, he’s daring to laugh!”

A great silence fell between them. Then Lupin stepped forward and, in muttered tones, with his eyes on Beautrelet’s:

“You shall go straight to the Grand Journal.”

“No.”

“Tear up your article.”

“No.”

“See the editor.”

“No.”

“Tell him you made a mistake.”

“No.”

“And write him another article, in which you will give the official version of the Ambrumésy mystery, the one which everyone has accepted.”

“No.”

Lupin took up a steel ruler that lay on my desk and broke it in two without an effort. His pallor was terrible to see. He wiped away the beads of perspiration that stood on his forehead. He, who had never known his wishes resisted, was being maddened by the obstinacy of this child. He pressed his two hands on Beautrelet’s shoulder and, emphasizing every syllable, continued:

“You shall do as I tell you, Beautrelet. You shall say that your latest discoveries have convinced you of my death, that there is not the least doubt about it. You shall say so because I wish it, because it has to be believed that I am dead. You shall say so, above all, because, if you do not say so⁠—”

“Because, if I do not say so⁠—?”

“Your father will be kidnapped tonight, as Ganimard and Holmlock Shears were.”

Beautrelet gave a smile.

“Don’t laugh⁠—answer!”

“My answer is that I am very sorry to disappoint you, but I have promised to speak and I shall speak.”

“Speak in the sense which I have told you.”

“I shall speak the truth,” cried Beautrelet, eagerly. “It is something which you can’t understand, the pleasure, the need, rather, of saying the thing that is and saying it aloud. The truth is here, in this brain which has guessed it and discovered it; and it will come out, all naked and quivering. The article, therefore, will be printed as I wrote it. The world shall know that Lupin is alive and shall know the reason why he wished to be considered dead. The world shall know all.” And he added, calmly, “And my father shall not be kidnapped.”

Once again, they were both silent, with their eyes still fixed upon