Memoirs of Arsène Lupin - Maurice Leblanc (books like beach read TXT) 📗

empty and two or three chairs had been knocked over. An inner door led to the dressing room. That was empty too. He stepped into the bedroom whither the actress had fled.

The curtains were drawn. In the dim light he saw a man kneeling over a woman prone on the carpet, gripping her throat with both hands, and swearing abominably.

“Hell! You won’t shut your mouth, won’t you? You won’t hand over those jewels, won’t you? I’ll show you, curse you!”

Ralph flung himself upon him. He loosened his grip on the woman’s throat and rolled over. Ralph’s head banged against the fireplace with a violence that dazed him for a moment.

That was unfortunate; and in addition this murderous ruffian was heavier than he, powerfully built, with muscles of steel. It looked as if the slender and youthful Ralph had no chance whatever against him. But there was a sudden groan and the big man rolled over and lay inert, while Ralph rose lightly to his feet.

He said: “A pretty stroke, wasn’t it, old boy? I got it from the posthumous instructions of a gentleman named Theophrastus Lupin⁠—from a chapter which deals with Japanese methods. It transports you to a better world for a minute or two and renders you as harmless as a lamb.”

Without the loss of a moment he took the curtain cords and bound together the wrists of his opponent.

He had moved the curtains and was working in a fair light. He turned the man over to see his face. A sharp cry of amazement burst from his lips; and he exclaimed:

“Leonard!⁠ ⁠… Leonard, begad!”

He had never had a really good view of Josephine’s coachman. He had always seen him crouched on the box of the carriage, with his head between his shoulders, and so disguising his figure that Ralph believed him to be almost a hunchback and certainly a weakling. But there was no mistaking that bony face ending in that gray beard. It was beyond all doubting Leonard, Josephine’s factotum and right hand man.

He bound his legs together, just to make sure; and then on the carpet beside him he saw a whistle. He picked it up and was just about to stick it back in Leonard’s pocket when an idea came to him. He went to the window and peeped round the edge of the curtain. On the other side of the street, about twenty yards down it, stood the old carriage.

On the box sat a young man in livery. But inside the carriage there was surely another confederate. Ralph was sure of it; and now nothing in the world would have prevented him from carrying the matter through to the bitter end.

He turned his attention to Bridget, who was moaning faintly, picked her up, and laid her on the bed. The marks of the ruffian’s fingers were very red on her throat; but he had been in time to prevent the worst. She was only suffering from shock and terror. She half-opened her eyes.

He poured some water from the carafe into the tooth-glass, raised her, and held it to her lips. She swallowed a little, with difficulty. It seemed to relieve her; and she began to cry.

“Never mind! You’ll be all right presently,” he said gently. “Shut your eyes and relax. Don’t move till I come back. I’ll relieve you of the presence of this gentleman. I’ll take him into the next room and question him. You’re quite safe. I’m a detective; and luckily I was on his track.”

He was pretty sure that she would keep quiet and give him no trouble. Probably, in the reaction, she would fall into the profound sleep of those who have been tortured and badly frightened. He dragged Leonard into the boudoir and shut the bedroom door. Then he went downstairs.

A glance into the drawingroom showed him Valentine, as he had expected, in exactly the same condition as he had left Leonard. He decided that she was best as she was. It left him a freer hand.

“It’s all right, miss,” he said in a reassuring voice. “I’ll loose you presently. I’m a detective; and the first thing for me to do is to catch the rest of the gang.”

He went down the passage to the front door. As he had expected, it was not latched. He opened it an inch or two and looked at the door of the courtyard. Leonard had left that unlatched also.

Ralph permitted himself a somewhat sardonic smile. Then he went upstairs, opened the window of the boudoir a little way, and blew the whistle.

One of two things would happen. Either the whistle would be a warning to the confederate that things had gone wrong; and she would decamp. Or it would be a signal that the coast was clear and that she could join Leonard in the search for the jewels and any other evidence there was to be found in Bridget Rousselin’s house.

He waited with a very somber air, his eye on the door of the courtyard. He was extraordinarily disturbed, horrified indeed. It was one thing to relieve well-to-do persons of objects of luxury, of which they had no real need, and which they hadn’t the sense to keep⁠—quite another to be an accomplice in a cold blooded murder. Surely the woman he adored would never go to such lengths. As the horror of it grew clearer and clearer, his pulse quickened in a feverish anguish. Who would come through the door of the courtyard?

That door opened; on the threshold stood Josephine Balsamo!

Ralph gasped; and for the moment his eyes went blind.

Then he was filled with a bitter fury.

Josephine came quietly through the door, as carelessly as if she were merely paying a call on a friend, and walked across the courtyard. The moment Leonard whistled, the way was clear; she had only to go to him.

Ralph was furious but quite calm. He was ready to fight this second adversary as he had fought the first, and conquer her, but with very different