The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Burglar - Maurice Leblanc (best pdf reader for ebooks TXT) 📗

Daspry, as he walked toward the bearded king, climbed on a chair and applied the seven of hearts to the lower part of the sword in such a manner that the edges of the iron plate coincided exactly with the two edges of the sword. Then, with the assistance of an awl which he introduced alternately into each of the seven holes, he pressed upon seven of the little mosaic stones. As he pressed upon the seventh one, a clicking sound was heard, and the entire bust of the King turned upon a pivot, disclosing a large opening lined with steel. It was really a fireproof safe.

“You can see, Varin, the safe is empty.”

“So I see. Then, my brother has taken out the letters.”

Daspry stepped down from the chair, approached Varin, and said:

“Now, no more nonsense with me. There is another hiding-place. Where is it?”

“There is none.”

“Is it money you want? How much?”

“Ten thousand.”

“Monsieur Andermatt, are those letters worth ten thousand francs to you?”

“Yes,” said the banker, firmly.

Varin closed the safe, took the seven of hearts and placed it again on the sword at the same spot. He thrust the awl into each of the seven holes. There was the same clicking sound, but this time, strange to relate, it was only a portion of the safe that revolved on the pivot, disclosing quite a small safe that was built within the door of the larger one. The packet of letters was here, tied with a tape, and sealed. Varin handed the packet to Daspry. The latter turned to the banker, and asked:

“Is the check ready, Monsieur Andermatt?”

“Yes.”

“And you have also the last document that you received from Louis Lacombe⁠—the one that completes the plans of the submarine?”

“Yes.”

The exchange was made. Daspry pocketed the document and the checks, and offered the packet of letters to Mon. Andermatt.

“This is what you wanted, Monsieur.”

The banker hesitated a moment, as if he were afraid to touch those cursed letters that he had sought so eagerly. Then, with a nervous movement, he took them. Close to me, I heard a moan. I grasped Madame Andermatt’s hand. It was cold.

“I believe, monsieur,” said Daspry to the banker, “that our business is ended. Oh! no thanks. It was only by a mere chance that I have been able to do you a good turn. Good night.”

Mon. Andermatt retired. He carried with him the letters written by his wife to Louis Lacombe.

“Marvelous!” exclaimed Daspry, delighted. “Everything is coming our way. Now, we have only to close our little affair, comrade. You have the papers?”

“Here they are⁠—all of them.”

Daspry examined them carefully, and then placed them in his pocket.

“Quite right. You have kept your word,” he said.

“But⁠—”

“But what?”

“The two checks? The money?” said Varin, eagerly.

“Well, you have a great deal of assurance, my man. How dare you ask such a thing?”

“I ask only what is due to me.”

“Can you ask pay for returning papers that you stole? Well, I think not!”

Varin was beside himself. He trembled with rage; his eyes were bloodshot.

“The money⁠ ⁠… the twenty thousand.⁠ ⁠…” he stammered.

“Impossible! I need it myself.”

“The money!”

“Come, be reasonable, and don’t get excited. It won’t do you any good.”

Daspry seized his arm so forcibly, that Varin uttered a cry of pain. Daspry continued:

“Now, you can go. The air will do you good. Perhaps you want me to show you the way. Ah! yes, we will go together to the vacant lot near here, and I will show you a little mound of earth and stones and under it⁠—”

“That is false! That is false!”

“Oh! no, it is true. That little iron plate with the seven spots on it came from there. Louis Lacombe always carried it, and you buried it with the body⁠—and with some other things that will prove very interesting to a judge and jury.”

Varin covered his face with his hands, and muttered:

“All right, I am beaten. Say no more. But I want to ask you one question. I should like to know⁠—”

“What is it?”

“Was there a little casket in the large safe?”

“Yes.”

“Was it there on the night of 22 June?”

“Yes.”

“What did it contain?”

“Everything that the Varin brothers had put in it⁠—a very pretty collection of diamonds and pearls picked up here and there by the said brothers.”

“And did you take it?”

“Of course I did. Do you blame me?”

“I understand⁠ ⁠… it was the disappearance of that casket that caused my brother to kill himself.”

“Probably. The disappearance of your correspondence was not a sufficient motive. But the disappearance of the casket.⁠ ⁠… Is that all you wish to ask me?”

“One thing more: your name?”

“You ask that with an idea of seeking revenge.”

“Parbleu! The tables may be turned. Today, you are on top. Tomorrow⁠—”

“It will be you.”

“I hope so. Your name?”

“Arsène Lupin.”

“Arsène Lupin!”

The man staggered, as though stunned by a heavy blow. Those two words had deprived him of all hope.

Daspry laughed, and said:

“Ah! did you imagine that a Monsieur Durand or Dupont could manage an affair like this? No, it required the skill and cunning of Arsène Lupin. And now that you have my name, go and prepare your revenge. Arsène Lupin will wait for you.”

Then he pushed the bewildered Varin through the door.

“Daspry! Daspry!” I cried, pushing aside the curtain. He ran to me.

“What? What’s the matter?”

“Madame Andermatt is ill.”

He hastened to her, caused her to inhale some salts, and, while caring for her, questioned me:

“Well, what did it?”

“The letters of Louis Lacombe that you gave to her husband.”

He struck his forehead and said:

“Did she think that I could do such a thing!⁠ ⁠… But, of course she would. Imbecile that I am!”

Madame Andermatt was now revived. Daspry took from his pocket a small package exactly similar to the one that Mon. Andermatt had carried away.

“Here are your letters, Madame. These are the genuine letters.”

“But⁠ ⁠… the others?”

“The others are the same, rewritten by me and carefully worded. Your husband will not find anything objectionable in them, and will never suspect the substitution since they were taken from the safe in his presence.”

“But the handwriting⁠—”

“There