The Confessions of Arsène Lupin - Maurice Leblanc (always you kirsty moseley TXT) 📗

meet you, with orders to scatter bits of orange-peel and draw crosses and circles, in short, to mark out your road to this place.⁠ ⁠… Why, you look quite bewildered! What is it? Perhaps you don’t recognize me? Lupin.⁠ ⁠… Arsène Lupin.⁠ ⁠… Ransack your memory.⁠ ⁠… Doesn’t the name remind you of anything?”

“You dirty scoundrel!” Ganimard snarled between his teeth.

Lupin seemed greatly distressed and, in an affectionate voice:

“Are you vexed? Yes, I can see it in your eyes.⁠ ⁠… The Dugrival business, I suppose? I ought to have waited for you to come and take me in charge?⁠ ⁠… There now, the thought never occurred to me! I promise you, next time.⁠ ⁠…”

“You scum of the earth!” growled Ganimard.

“And I thinking I was giving you a treat! Upon my word, I did. I said to myself, ‘That dear old Ganimard! We haven’t met for an age. He’ll simply rush at me when he sees me!’ ”

Ganimard, who had not yet stirred a limb, seemed to be waking from his stupor. He looked around him, looked at Lupin, visibly asked himself whether he would not do well to rush at him in reality and then, controlling himself, took hold of a chair and settled himself in it, as though he had suddenly made up his mind to listen to his enemy:

“Speak,” he said. “And don’t waste my time with any nonsense. I’m in a hurry.”

“That’s it,” said Lupin, “let’s talk. You can’t imagine a quieter place than this. It’s an old manor-house, which once stood in the open country, and it belongs to the Duc de Rochelaure. The duke, who has never lived in it, lets this floor to me and the outhouses to a painter and decorator. I always keep up a few establishments of this kind: it’s a sound, practical plan. Here, in spite of my looking like a Russian nobleman, I am M. Daubreuil, an ex-cabinet-minister.⁠ ⁠… You understand, I had to select a rather overstocked profession, so as not to attract attention.⁠ ⁠…”

“Do you think I care a hang about all this?” said Ganimard, interrupting him.

“Quite right, I’m wasting words and you’re in a hurry. Forgive me. I shan’t be long now.⁠ ⁠… Five minutes, that’s all.⁠ ⁠… I’ll start at once.⁠ ⁠… Have a cigar? No? Very well, no more will I.”

He sat down also, drummed his fingers on the table, while thinking, and began in this fashion:

“On the 17th of October, 1599, on a warm and sunny autumn day⁠ ⁠… Do you follow me?⁠ ⁠… But, now that I come to think of it, is it really necessary to go back to the reign of Henry IV, and tell you all about the building of the Pont-Neuf? No, I don’t suppose you are very well up in French history; and I should only end by muddling you. Suffice it, then, for you to know that, last night, at one o’clock in the morning, a boatman passing under the last arch of the Pont-Neuf aforesaid, along the left bank of the river, heard something drop into the front part of his barge. The thing had been flung from the bridge and its evident destination was the bottom of the Seine. The bargee’s dog rushed forward, barking, and, when the man reached the end of his craft, he saw the animal worrying a piece of newspaper that had served to wrap up a number of objects. He took from the dog such of the contents as had not fallen into the water, went to his cabin and examined them carefully. The result struck him as interesting; and, as the man is connected with one of my friends, he sent to let me know. This morning I was waked up and placed in possession of the facts and of the objects which the man had collected. Here they are.”

He pointed to them, spread out on a table. There were, first of all, the torn pieces of a newspaper. Next came a large cut-glass inkstand, with a long piece of string fastened to the lid. There was a bit of broken glass and a sort of flexible cardboard, reduced to shreds. Lastly, there was a piece of bright scarlet silk, ending in a tassel of the same material and colour.

“You see our exhibits, friend of my youth,” said Lupin. “No doubt, the problem would be more easily solved if we had the other objects which went overboard owing to the stupidity of the dog. But it seems to me, all the same, that we ought to be able to manage, with a little reflection and intelligence. And those are just your great qualities. How does the business strike you?”

Ganimard did not move a muscle. He was willing to stand Lupin’s chaff, but his dignity commanded him not to speak a single word in answer nor even to give a nod or shake of the head that might have been taken to express approval or criticism.

“I see that we are entirely of one mind,” continued Lupin, without appearing to remark the chief-inspector’s silence. “And I can sum up the matter briefly, as told us by these exhibits. Yesterday evening, between nine and twelve o’clock, a showily dressed young woman was wounded with a knife and then caught round the throat and choked to death by a well-dressed gentleman, wearing a single eyeglass and interested in racing, with whom the aforesaid showily dressed young lady had been eating three meringues and a coffee éclair.”

Lupin lit a cigarette and, taking Ganimard by the sleeve:

“Aha, that’s up against you, chief-inspector! You thought that, in the domain of police deductions, such feats as those were prohibited to outsiders! Wrong, sir! Lupin juggles with inferences and deductions for all the world like a detective in a novel. My proofs are dazzling and absolutely simple.”

And, pointing to the objects one by one, as he demonstrated his statement, he resumed:

“I said, after nine o’clock yesterday evening. This scrap of newspaper bears yesterday’s date, with the words, ‘Evening edition.’ Also, you will see here, pasted to the paper, a bit of