Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes

  CHAPTER II.

  THE BLUE DIAMOND.

  On the evening of March 27, at number 134 avenue Henri-Martin, in thehouse that he had inherited from his brother six months before, the oldgeneral Baron d'Hautrec, ambassador at Berlin under the second Empire,was asleep in a comfortable armchair, while his secretary was reading tohim, and the Sister Auguste was warming his bed and preparing thenight-lamp. At eleven o'clock, the Sister, who was obliged to return tothe convent of her order at that hour, said to the secretary:

  "Mademoiselle Antoinette, my work is finished; I am going."

  "Very well, Sister."

  "Do not forget that the cook is away, and that you are alone in thehouse with the servant."

  "Have no fear for the Baron. I sleep in the adjoining room and alwaysleave the door open."

  The Sister left the house. A few moments later, Charles, the servant,came to receive his orders. The Baron was now awake, and spoke forhimself.

  "The usual orders, Charles: see that the electric bell rings in yourroom, and, at the first alarm, run for the doctor. Now, MademoiselleAntoinette, how far did we get in our reading?"

  "Is Monsieur not going to bed now?"

  "No, no, I will go later. Besides, I don't need anyone."

  Twenty minutes later, he was sleeping again, and Antoinette crept awayon tiptoe. At that moment, Charles was closing the shutters on the lowerfloor. In the kitchen, he bolted the door leading to the garden, and, inthe vestibule, he not only locked the door but hooked the chain as well.Then he ascended to his room on the third floor, went to bed, and wassoon asleep.

  Probably an hour had passed, when he leaped from his bed in alarm. Thebell was ringing. It rang for some time, seven or eight seconds perhaps,without intermission.

  "Well!" muttered Charles, recovering his wits, "another of the Baron'swhims."

  He dressed himself quickly, descended the stairs, stopped in front ofthe door, and rapped, according to his custom. He received no reply. Heopened the door and entered.

  "Ah! no light," he murmured. "What is that for?"

  Then, in a low voice, he called:

  "Mademoiselle?"

  No reply.

  "Are you there, mademoiselle? What's the matter? Is Monsieur le Baronill?"

  No reply. Nothing but a profound silence that soon became depressing. Hetook two steps forward; his foot struck a chair, and, having touched it,he noticed that it was overturned. Then, with his hand, he discoveredother objects on the floor--a small table and a screen. Anxiously, heapproached the wall, felt for the electric button, and turned on thelight.

  In the centre of the room, between the table and dressing-case, lay thebody of his master, the Baron d'Hautrec.

  "What!... It can't be possible!" he stammered.

  He could not move. He stood there, with bulging eyes, gazing stupidly atthe terrible disorder, the overturned chairs, a large crystal candelabrashattered in a thousand pieces, the clock lying on the marblehearthstone, all evidence of a fearful and desperate struggle. Thehandle of a stiletto glittered, not far from the corpse; the blade wasstained with blood. A handkerchief, marked with red spots, was lying onthe edge of the bed.

  Charles recoiled with horror: the body lying at his feet extended itselffor a moment, then shrunk up again; two or three tremors, and that wasthe end.

  He stooped over the body. There was a clean-cut wound on the neck fromwhich the blood was flowing and then congealing in a black pool on thecarpet. The face retained an expression of extreme terror.

  "Some one has killed him!" he muttered, "some one has killed him!"

  Then he shuddered at the thought that there might be another dreadfulcrime. Did not the baron's secretary sleep in the adjoining room! Hadnot the assassin killed her also! He opened the door; the room wasempty. He concluded that Antoinette had been abducted, or else she hadgone away before the crime. He returned to the baron's chamber, hisglance falling on the secretary, he noticed that that article offurniture remained intact. Then, he saw upon a table, beside a bunch ofkeys and a pocketbook that the baron placed there every night, ahandful of golden louis. Charles seized the pocketbook, opened it, andfound some bank-notes. He counted them; there were thirteen notes of onehundred francs each.

  Instinctively, mechanically, he put the bank-notes in his pocket, rusheddown the stairs, drew the bolt, unhooked the chain, closed the doorbehind him, and fled to the street.

  * * * * *

  Charles was an honest man. He had scarcely left the gate, when, cooledby the night air and the rain, he came to a sudden halt. Now, he saw hisaction in its true light, and it filled him with horror. He hailed apassing cab, and said to the driver:

  "Go to the police-office, and bring the commissary. Hurry! There hasbeen a murder in that house."

  The cab-driver whipped his horse. Charles wished to return to the house,but found the gate locked. He had closed it himself when he came out,and it could not be opened from the outside. On the other hand, it wasuseless to ring, as there was no one in the house.

  It was almost an hour before the arrival of the police. When they came,Charles told his story and handed the bank-notes to the commissary. Alocksmith was summoned, and, after considerable difficulty, he succeededin forcing open the garden gate and the vestibule door. The commissaryof police entered the room first, but, immediately, turned to Charlesand said:

  "You told me that the room was in the greatest disorder."

  Charles stood at the door, amazed, bewildered; all the furniture hadbeen restored to its accustomed place. The small table was standingbetween the two windows, the chairs were upright, and the clock was onthe centre of the mantel. The debris of the candelabra had been removed.

  "Where is.... Monsieur le Baron?" stammered Charles.

  "That's so!" exclaimed the officer, "where is the victim?"

  He approached the bed, and drew aside a large sheet, under which reposedthe Baron d'Hautrec, formerly French Ambassador at Berlin. Over him, layhis military coat, adorned with the Cross of Honor. His features werecalm. His eyes were closed.

  "Some one has been here," said Charles.

  "How did they get in?"

  "I don't know, but some one has been here during my absence. There was astiletto on the floor--there! And a handkerchief, stained with blood, onthe bed. They are not here now. They have been carried away. And someone has put the room in order."

  "Who would do that?"

  "The assassin."

  "But we found all the doors locked."

  "He must have remained in the house."

  "Then he must be here yet, as you were in front of the house all thetime."

  Charles reflected a moment, then said, slowly:

  "Yes ... of course.... I didn't go away from the gate."

  "Who was the last person you saw with the baron?"

  "Mademoiselle Antoinette, his secretary."

  "What has become of her?"

  "I don't know. Her bed wasn't occupied, so she must have gone out. I amnot surprised at that, as she is young and pretty."

  "But how could she leave the house?"

  "By the door," said Charles.

  "But you had bolted and chained it."

  "Yes, but she must have left before that."

  "And the crime was committed after her departure?"

  "Of course," said the servant.

  The house was searched from cellar to garret, but the assassin had fled.How? And when? Was it he or an accomplice who had returned to the sceneof the crime and removed everything that might furnish a clue to hisidentity? Such were the questions the police were called upon to solve.

  The coroner came at seven o'clock; and, at eight o'clock, Mon. Dudouis,the head of the detective service, arrived on the scene. They werefollowed by the Procureur of the Republic and the investigatingmagistrate. In addition to these officials, the house was overrun withpolicemen, detectives, newspaper reporters, photographers, and relativesand acquaintances of the murdered man.

>   A thorough search was made; they studied out the position of the corpseaccording to the information furnished by Charles; they questionedSister Auguste when she arrived; but they discovered nothing new. SisterAuguste was astonished to learn of the disappearance of AntoinetteBrehat. She had engaged the young girl twelve days before, on excellentrecommendations, and refused to believe that she would neglect her dutyby leaving the house during the night.

  "But, you see, she hasn't returned yet," said the magistrate, "and weare still confronted with the question: What has become of her?"

  "I think she was abducted by the assassin," said Charles.

  The theory was plausible, and was borne out by certain facts. Mon.Dudouis agreed with it. He said:

  "Abducted? ma foi! that is not improbable."

  "Not only improbable," said a voice, "but absolutely opposed to thefacts. There is not a particle of evidence to support such a theory."

  The voice was harsh, the accent sharp, and no one was surprised to learnthat the speaker was Ganimard. In no one else, would they tolerate sucha domineering tone.

  "Ah! it is you, Ganimard!" exclaimed Mon. Dudouis. "I had not seen youbefore."

  "I have been here since two o'clock."

  "So you are interested in some things outside of lottery ticket number514, the affair of the rue Clapeyron, the blonde lady and ArseneLupin?"

  "Ha-ha!" laughed the veteran detective. "I would not say that Lupin is astranger to the present case. But let us forget the affair of thelottery ticket for a few moments, and try to unravel this new mystery."

  * * * * *

  Ganimard is not one of those celebrated detectives whose methods willcreate a school, or whose name will be immortalized in the criminalannals of his country. He is devoid of those flashes of genius whichcharacterize the work of Dupin, Lecoq and Sherlock Holmes. Yet, it mustbe admitted, he possesses superior qualities of observation, sagacity,perseverance and even intuition. His merit lies in his absoluteindependence. Nothing troubles or influences him, except, perhaps, asort of fascination that Arsene Lupin holds over him. However that maybe, there is no doubt that his position on that morning, in the house ofthe late Baron d'Hautrec, was one of undoubted superiority, and hiscollaboration in the case was appreciated and desired by theinvestigating magistrate.

  "In the first place," said Ganimard, "I will ask Monsieur Charles to bevery particular on one point: He says that, on the occasion of hisfirst visit to the room, various articles of furniture were overturnedand strewn about the place; now, I ask him whether, on his second visitto the room, he found all those articles restored to their accustomedplaces--I mean, of course, correctly placed."

  "Yes, all in their proper places," replied Charles.

  "It is obvious, then, that the person who replaced them must have beenfamiliar with the location of those articles."

  The logic of this remark was apparent to his hearers. Ganimardcontinued:

  "One more question, Monsieur Charles. You were awakened by the ringingof your bell. Now, who, do you think, rang it?"

  "Monsieur le baron, of course."

  "When could he ring it!"

  "After the struggle ... when he was dying."

  "Impossible; because you found him lying, unconscious, at a point morethan four metres from the bell-button."

  "Then he must have rung during the struggle."

  "Impossible," declared Ganimard, "since the ringing, as you have said,was continuous and uninterrupted, and lasted seven or eight seconds. Doyou think his antagonist would have permitted him to ring the bell inthat leisurely manner?"

  "Well, then, it was before the attack."

  "Also, quite impossible, since you have told us that the lapse of timebetween the ringing of the bell and your entrance to the room was notmore than three minutes. Therefore, if the baron rang before the attack,we are forced to the conclusion that the struggle, the murder and theflight of the assassin, all occurred within the short space of threeminutes. I repeat: that is impossible."

  "And yet," said the magistrate, "some one rang. If it were not thebaron, who was it?"

  "The murderer."

  "For what purpose?"

  "I do not know. But the fact that he did ring proves that he knew thatthe bell communicated with the servant's room. Now, who would know that,except an inmate of the house?"

  Ganimard was drawing the meshes of his net closer and tighter. In a fewclear and logical sentences, he had unfolded and defined his theory ofthe crime, so that it seemed quite natural when the magistrate said:

  "As I understand it, Ganimard, you suspect the girl Antoinette Brehat?"

  "I do not suspect her; I accuse her."

  "You accuse her of being an accomplice?"

  "I accuse her of having killed Baron d'Hautrec."

  "Nonsense! What proof have you?"

  "The handful of hair I found in the right hand of the victim."

  He produced the hair; it was of a beautiful blond color, and glitteredlike threads of gold. Charles looked at it, and said:

  "That is Mademoiselle Antoinette's hair. There can be no doubt of it.And, then, there is another thing. I believe that the knife, which I sawon my first visit to the room, belonged to her. She used it to cut theleaves of books."

  A long, dreadful silence followed, as if the crime had acquired anadditional horror by reason of having been committed by a woman. Atlast, the magistrate said:

  "Let us assume, until we are better informed, that the baron was killedby Antoinette Brehat. We have yet to learn where she concealed herselfafter the crime, how she managed to return after Charles left the house,and how she made her escape after the arrival of the police. Have youformed any opinion on those points Ganimard?"

  "None."

  "Well, then, where do we stand?"

  Ganimard was embarrassed. Finally, with a visible effort, he said:

  "All I can say is that I find in this case the same method of procedureas we found in the affair of the lottery ticket number 514; the samephenomena, which might be termed the faculty of disappearing. AntoinetteBrehat has appeared and disappeared in this house as mysteriously asArsene Lupin entered the house of Monsieur Detinan and escaped therefromin the company of the blonde lady.

  "Does that signify anything?"

  "It does to me. I can see a probable connection between those twostrange incidents. Antoinette Brehat was hired by Sister Auguste twelvedays ago, that is to say, on the day after the blonde Lady so cleverlyslipped through my fingers. In the second place, the hair of the blondeLady was exactly of the same brilliant golden hue as the hair found inthis case."

  "So that, in your opinion, Antoinette Brehat--"

  "Is the blonde Lady--precisely."

  "And that Lupin had a hand in both cases!"

  "Yes, that is my opinion."

  This statement was greeted with an outburst of laughter. It came fromMon. Dudouis.

  "Lupin! always Lupin! Lupin is into everything; Lupin is everywhere!"

  "Yes, Lupin is into everything of any consequence," replied Ganimard,vexed at the ridicule of his superior.

  "Well, so far as I see," observed Mon. Dudouis, "you have not discoveredany motive for this crime. The secretary was not broken into, nor thepocketbook carried away. Even, a pile of gold was left upon the table."

  "Yes, that is so," exclaimed Ganimard, "but the famous diamond?"

  "What diamond?"

  "The blue diamond! The celebrated diamond which formed part of the royalcrown of France, and which was given by the Duke d'Aumale to LeonideLebrun, and, at the death of Leonide Lebrun, was purchased by the Barond'Hautrec as a souvenir of the charming comedienne that he had loved sowell. That is one of those things that an old Parisian, like I, does notforget."

  "It is obvious that if the blue diamond is not found, the motive for thecrime is disclosed," said the magistrate. "But where should we searchfor it?"

  "On the baron's finger," replied Charles. "He always wore the bluediamond on his l
eft hand."

  "I saw that hand, and there was only a plain gold ring on it," saidGanimard, as he approached the corpse.

  "Look in the palm of the hand," replied the servant.

  Ganimard opened the stiffened hand. The bezel was turned inward, and, inthe centre of that bezel, the blue diamond shone with all its glorioussplendor.

  "The deuce!" muttered Ganimard, absolutely amazed, "I don't understandit."

  "You will now apologize to Lupin for having suspected him, eh?" saidMon. Dudouis, laughing.

  Ganimard paused for a moment's reflection, and then replied,sententiously:

  "It is only when I do not understand things that I suspect ArseneLupin."

  Such were the facts established by the police on the day after thecommission of that mysterious crime. Facts that were vague andincoherent in themselves, and which were not explained by any subsequentdiscoveries. The movements of Antoinette Brehat remained as inexplicableas those of the blonde Lady, and the police discovered no trace of thatmysterious creature with the golden hair who had killed Baron d'Hautrecand had failed to take from his finger the famous diamond that had onceshone in the royal crown of France.

  * * * * *

  The heirs of the Baron d'Hautrec could not fail to benefit by suchnotoriety. They established in the house an exhibition of the furnitureand other objects which were to be sold at the auction rooms of Drouot &Co. Modern furniture of indifferent taste, various objects of noartistic value ... but, in the centre of the room, in a case of purplevelvet, protected by a glass globe, and guarded by two officers, was thefamous blue diamond ring.

  A large magnificent diamond of incomparable purity, and of thatindefinite blue which the clear water receives from an unclouded sky, ofthat blue which can be detected in the whiteness of linen. Some admired,some enthused ... and some looked with horror on the chamber of thevictim, on the spot where the corpse had lain, on the floor divested ofits blood-stained carpet, and especially the walls, the unsurmountablewalls over which the criminal must have passed. Some assured themselvesthat the marble mantel did not move, others imagined gaping holes,mouths of tunnels, secret connections with the sewers, and thecatacombs--

  The sale of the blue diamond took place at the salesroom of Drouot & Co.The place was crowded to suffocation, and the bidding was carried to theverge of folly. The sale was attended by all those who usually appear atsimilar events in Paris; those who buy, and those who make a pretense ofbeing able to buy; bankers, brokers, artists, women of all classes, twocabinet ministers, an Italian tenor, an exiled king who, in order tomaintain his credit, bid, with much ostentation, and in a loud voice, ashigh as one hundred thousand francs. One hundred thousand francs! Hecould offer that sum without any danger of his bid being accepted. TheItalian tenor risked one hundred and fifty thousand, and a member of theComedie-Francaise bid one hundred and seventy-five thousand francs.

  When the bidding reached two hundred thousand francs, the smallercompetitors fell out of the race. At two hundred and fifty thousand,only two bidders remained in the field: Herschmann, the well-knowncapitalist, the king of gold mines; and the Countess de Crozon, thewealthy American, whose collection of diamonds and precious stones isfamed throughout the world.

  "Two hundred and sixty thousand ... two hundred and seventy thousand ...seventy-five ... eighty...." exclaimed the auctioneer, as he glanced atthe two competitors in succession. "Two hundred and eighty thousand formadame.... Do I hear any more?"

  "Three hundred thousand," said Herschmann.

  There was a short silence. The countess was standing, smiling, but palefrom excitement. She was leaning against the back of the chair in frontof her. She knew, and so did everyone present, that the issue of theduel was certain; logically, inevitably, it must terminate to theadvantage of the capitalist, who had untold millions with which toindulge his caprices. However, the countess made another bid:

  "Three hundred and five thousand."

  Another silence. All eyes were now directed to the capitalist in theexpectation that he would raise the bidding. But Herschmann was notpaying any attention to the sale; his eyes were fixed on a sheet ofpaper which he held in his right hand, while the other hand held a tornenvelope.

  "Three hundred and five thousand," repeated the auctioneer. "Once!...Twice!... For the last time.... Do I hear any more?... Once!...Twice!... Am I offered any more? Last chance!..."

  Herschmann did not move.

  "Third and last time!... Sold!" exclaimed the auctioneer, as his hammerfell.

  "Four hundred thousand," cried Herschman, starting up, as if the soundof the hammer had roused him from his stupor.

  Too late; the auctioneer's decision was irrevocable. Some ofHerschmann's acquaintances pressed around him. What was the matter? Whydid he not speak sooner? He laughed, and said:

  "Ma foi! I simply forgot--in a moment of abstraction."

  "That is strange."

  "You see, I just received a letter."

  "And that letter was sufficient--"

  "To distract my attention? Yes, for a moment."

  Ganimard was there. He had come to witness the sale of the ring. Hestopped one of the attendants of the auction room, and said:

  "Was it you who carried the letter to Monsieur Herschmann?"

  "Yes."

  "Who gave it to you?"

  "A lady."

  "Where is she?"

  "Where is she?... She was sitting down there ... the lady who wore athick veil."

  "She has gone?"

  "Yes, just this moment."

  Ganimard hastened to the door, and saw the lady descending the stairs.He ran after her. A crush of people delayed him at the entrance. Whenhe reached the sidewalk, she had disappeared. He returned to the auctionroom, accosted Herschmann, introduced himself, and enquired about theletter. Herschmann handed it to him. It was carelessly scribbled inpencil, in a handwriting unknown to the capitalist, and contained thesefew words:

  _"The blue diamond brings misfortune. Remember the Baron d'Hautrec."_

  * * * * *

  The vicissitudes of the blue diamond were not yet at an end. Although ithad become well-known through the murder of the Baron d'Hautrec and theincidents at the auction-rooms, it was six months later that it attainedeven greater celebrity. During the following summer, the Countess deCrozon was robbed of the famous jewel she had taken so much trouble toacquire.

  Let me recall that strange affair, of which the exciting and dramaticincidents sent a thrill through all of us, and over which I am nowpermitted to throw some light.

  On the evening of August 10, the guests of the Count and Countess deCrozon were assembled in the drawing-room of the magnificent chateauwhich overlooks the Bay de Somme. To entertain her friends, the countessseated herself at the piano to play for them, after first placing herjewels on a small table near the piano, and, amongst them, was the ringof the Baron d'Hautrec.

  An hour later, the count and the majority of the guests retired,including his two cousins and Madame de Real, an intimate friend of thecountess. The latter remained in the drawing-room with Herr Bleichen,the Austrian consul, and his wife.

  They conversed for a time, and then the countess extinguished the largelamp that stood on a table in the centre of the room. At the samemoment, Herr Bleichen extinguished the two piano lamps. There was amomentary darkness; then the consul lighted a candle, and the three ofthem retired to their rooms. But, as soon as she reached her apartment,the countess remembered her jewels and sent her maid to get them. Whenthe maid returned with the jewels, she placed them on the mantel withoutthe countess looking at them. Next day, Madame de Crozon found that oneof her rings was missing; it was the blue diamond ring.

  She informed her husband, and, after talking it over, they reached theconclusion that the maid was above suspicion, and that the guilty partymust be Herr Bleichen.

  The count notified the commissary of police at Amiens, who commenced aninvestigation and, discreetl
y, exercised a strict surveillance over theAustrian consul to prevent his disposing of the ring.

  The chateau was surrounded by detectives day and night. Two weeks passedwithout incident. Then Herr Bleichen announced his intended departure.That day, a formal complaint was entered against him. The police made anofficial examination of his luggage. In a small satchel, the key towhich was always carried by the consul himself, they found a bottle ofdentifrice, and in that bottle they found the ring.

  Madame Bleichen fainted. Her husband was placed under arrest.

  Everyone will remember the line of defense adopted by the accused man.He declared that the ring must have been placed there by the Count deCrozen as an act of revenge. He said:

  "The count is brutal and makes his wife very unhappy. She consulted me,and I advised her to get a divorce. The count heard of it in some way,and, to be revenged on me, he took the ring and placed it in mysatchel."

  The count and countess persisted in pressing the charge. Between theexplanation which they gave and that of the consul, both equallypossible and equally probable, the public had to choose. No new fact wasdiscovered to turn the scale in either direction. A month of gossip,conjectures and investigations failed to produce a single ray of light.

  Wearied of the excitement and notoriety, and incapable of securing theevidence necessary to sustain their charge against the consul, the countand countess at last sent to Paris for a detective competent to unravelthe tangled threads of this mysterious skein. This brought Ganimard intothe case.

  For four days, the veteran detective searched the house from top tobottom, examined every foot of the ground, had long conferences with themaid, the chauffeur, the gardeners, the employees in the neighboringpost-offices, visited the rooms that had been occupied by the variousguests. Then, one morning, he disappeared without taking leave of hishost or hostess. But a week later, they received this telegram:

  "Please come to the Japanese Tea-room, rue Boissy d'Anglas, to-morrow,Friday, evening at five o'clock. Ganimard."

  * * * * *

  At five o 'clock, Friday evening, their automobile stopped in front ofnumber nine rue Boissy-d'Anglas. The old detective was standing on thesidewalk, waiting for them. Without a word, he conducted them to thefirst floor of the Japanese Tea-room. In one of the rooms, they met twomen, whom Ganimard introduced in these words:

  "Monsieur Gerbois, professor in the College of Versailles, from whom,you will remember, Arsene Lupin stole half a million; Monsieur Leonced'Hautrec, nephew and sole legatee of the Baron d'Hautrec."

  A few minutes later, another man arrived. It was Mon. Dudouis, head ofthe detective service, and he appeared to be in a particularly badtemper. He bowed, and then said:

  "What's the trouble now, Ganimard! I received your telephone messageasking me to come here. Is it anything of consequence?"

  "Yes, chief, it is a very important matter. Within an hour, the last twocases to which I was assigned will have their denouement here. Itseemed to me that your presence was indispensable."

  "And also the presence of Dieuzy and Folenfant, whom I noticed standingnear the door as I came in?"

  "Yes, chief."

  "For what? Are you going to make an arrest, and you wish to do it with aflourish? Come, Ganimard, I am anxious to hear about it."

  Ganimard hesitated a moment, then spoke with the obvious intention ofmaking an impression on his hearers:

  "In the first place, I wish to state that Herr Bleichen had nothing todo with the theft of the ring."

  "Oh! oh!" exclaimed Mon. Dudouis, "that is a bold statement and a veryserious one."

  "And is that all you have discovered?" asked the Count de Crozon.

  "Not at all. On the second day after the theft, three of your guestswent on an automobile trip as far as Crecy. Two of them visited thefamous battlefield; and, while they were there, the third party paid ahasty visit to the post-office, and mailed a small box, tied and sealedaccording to the regulations, and declared its value to be one hundredfrancs."

  "I see nothing strange in that," said the count.

  "Perhaps you will see something strange in it when I tell you that thisperson, in place of giving her true name, sent the box under the name ofRousseau, and the person to whom it was addressed, a certain MonsieurBeloux of Paris, moved his place of residence immediately afterreceiving the box, in other words, the ring."

  "I presume you refer to one of my cousins d'Andelle?"

  "No," replied Ganimard.

  "Madame de Real, then?"

  "Yes."

  "You accuse my friend, Madam de Real?" cried the countess, shocked andamazed.

  "I wish to ask you one question, madame," said Ganimard. "Was Madam deReal present when you purchased the ring?"

  "Yes, but we did not go there together."

  "Did she advise you to buy the ring?"

  The countess considered for a moment, then said:

  "Yes, I think she mentioned it first--"

  "Thank you, madame. Your answer establishes the fact that it was Madamede Real who was the first to mention the ring, and it was she whoadvised you to buy it."

  "But, I consider my friend is quite incapable--"

  "Pardon me, countess, when I remind you that Madame de Real is only acasual acquaintance and not your intimate friend, as the newspapers haveannounced. It was only last winter that you met her for the first time.Now, I can prove that everything she has told you about herself, herpast life, and her relatives, is absolutely false; that Madame Blanchede Real had no actual existence before she met you, and she has nowceased to exist."

  "Well?"

  "Well?" replied Ganimard.

  "Your story is a very strange one," said the countess, "but it has noapplication to our case. If Madame de Real had taken the ring, how doyou explain the fact that it was found in Herr Bleichen's tooth-powder?Anyone who would take the risk and trouble of stealing the blue diamondwould certainly keep it. What do you say to that?"

  "I--nothing--but Madame de Real will answer it."

  "Oh! she does exist, then?"

  "She does--and does not. I will explain in a few words. Three days ago,while reading a newspaper, I glanced over the list of hotel arrivals atTrouville, and there I read: 'Hotel Beaurivage--Madame de Real, etc.'

  "I went to Trouville immediately, and interviewed the proprietor of thehotel. From the description and other information I received from him, Iconcluded that she was the very Madame de Real that I was seeking; butshe had left the hotel, giving her address in Paris as number three ruede Colisee. The day before yesterday I went to that address, and learnedthat there was no person there called Madame de Real, but there was aMadame Real, living on the second floor, who acted as a diamond brokerand was frequently away from home. She had returned from a journey onthe preceding evening. Yesterday, I called on her and, under an assumedname, I offered to act as an intermedium in the sale of some diamonds tocertain wealthy friends of mine. She is to meet me here to-day to carryout that arrangement."

  "What! You expect her to come here?"

  "Yes, at half-past five."

  "Are you sure it is she?"

  "Madame de Real of the Chateau de Crozon? Certainly. I have convincingevidence of that fact. But ... listen!... I hear Folenfant's signal."

  It was a whistle. Ganimard arose quickly.

  "There is no time to lose. Monsieur and Madame de Crozon, will you bekind enough to go into the next room. You also, Monsieur d'Hautrec, andyou, Monsieur Gerbois. The door will remain open, and when I give thesignal, you will come out. Of course, Chief, you will remain here."

  "We may be disturbed by other people," said Mon. Dudouis.

  "No. This is a new establishment, and the proprietor is one of myfriends. He will not let anyone disturb us--except the blonde Lady."

  "The blonde Lady! What do you mean?"

  "Yes, the blonde Lady herself, chief; the friend and accomplice ofArsene Lupin, the mysterious blonde Lady against whom I hold convincingevide
nce; but, in addition to that, I wish to confront her with all thepeople she has robbed."

  He looked through the window.

  "I see her. She is coming in the door now. She can't escape: Folenfantand Dieuzy are guarding the door.... The blonde Lady is captured atlast, Chief!"

  A moment later a woman appeared at the door; she was tall and slender,with a very pale complexion and bright golden hair. Ganimard trembledwith excitement; he could not move, nor utter a word. She was there, infront of him, at his mercy! What a victory over Arsene Lupin! And what arevenge! And, at the same time, the victory was such an easy one that heasked himself if the blonde Lady would not yet slip through his fingersby one of those miracles that usually terminated the exploits of ArseneLupin. She remained standing near the door, surprised at the silence,and looked about her without any display of suspicion or fear.

  "She will get away! She will disappear!" thought Ganimard.

  Then he managed to get between her and the door. She turned to go out.

  "No, no!" he said. "Why are you going away?"

  "Really, monsieur, I do not understand what this means. Allow me--"

  "There is no reason why you should go, madame, and very good reasonswhy you should remain."

  "But--"

  "It is useless, madame. You cannot go."

  Trembling, she sat on a chair, and stammered:

  "What is it you want?"

  Ganimard had won the battle and captured the blonde Lady. He said toher:

  "Allow me to present the friend I mentioned, who desires to purchasesome diamonds. Have you procured the stones you promised to bring?"

  "No--no--I don't know. I don't remember."

  "Come! Jog your memory! A person of your acquaintance intended to sendyou a tinted stone.... 'Something like the blue diamond,' I said,laughing; and you replied: 'Exactly, I expect to have just what youwant.' Do you remember!"

  She made no reply. A small satchel fell from her hand. She picked it upquickly, and held it securely. Her hands trembled slightly.

  "Come!" said Ganimard, "I see you have no confidence in us, Madame deReal. I shall set you a good example by showing you what I have."

  He took from his pocketbook a paper which he unfolded, and disclosed alock of hair.

  "These are a few hairs torn from the head of Antoinette Brehat by theBaron d'Hautrec, which I found clasped in his dead hand. I have shownthem to Mlle. Gerbois, who declares they are of the exact color of thehair of the blonde Lady. Besides, they are exactly the color of yourhair--the identical color."

  Madame Real looked at him in bewilderment, as if she did not understandhis meaning. He continued:

  "And here are two perfume bottles, without labels, it is true, andempty, but still sufficiently impregnated with their odor to enableMlle. Gerbois to recognize in them the perfume used by that blonde Ladywho was her traveling companion for two weeks. Now, one of these bottleswas found in the room that Madame de Real occupied at the Chateau deCrozon, and the other in the room that you occupied at the HotelBeaurivage."

  "What do you say?... The blonde Lady ... the Chateau de Crozon...."

  The detective did not reply. He took from his pocket and placed on thetable, side by side, four small sheets of paper. Then he said:

  "I have, on these four pieces of paper, various specimens ofhandwriting; the first is the writing of Antoinette Brehat; the secondwas written by the woman who sent the note to Baron Herschmann at theauction sale of the blue diamond; the third is that of Madame de Real,written while she was stopping at the Chateau de Crozon; and the fourthis your handwriting, madame ... it is your name and address, which yougave to the porter of the Hotel Beaurivage at Trouville. Now, comparethe four handwritings. They are identical."

  "What absurdity is this! really, monsieur, I do not understand. Whatdoes it mean?"

  "It means, madame," exclaimed Ganimard, "that the blonde Lady, thefriend and accomplice of Arsene Lupin, is none other than you, MadameReal."

  Ganimard went to the adjoining room and returned with Mon. Gerbois, whomhe placed in front of Madame Real, as he said:

  "Monsieur Gerbois, is this the person who abducted your daughter, thewoman you saw at the house of Monsieur Detinan?"

  "No."

  Ganimard was so surprised that he could not speak for a moment; finally,he said: "No?... You must be mistaken...."

  "I am not mistaken. Madame is blonde, it is true, and in that respectresembles the blonde Lady; but, in all other respects, she is totallydifferent."

  "I can't believe it. You must be mistaken."

  Ganimard called in his other witnesses.

  "Monsieur d'Hautrec," he said, "do you recognize Antoinette Brehat?"

  "No, this is not the person I saw at my uncle's house."

  "This woman is not Madame de Real," declared the Count de Crozon.

  That was the finishing touch. Ganimard was crushed. He was buriedbeneath the ruins of the structure he had erected with so much care andassurance. His pride was humbled, his spirit was broken, by the force ofthis unexpected blow.

  Mon. Dudouis arose, and said:

  "We owe you an apology, madame, for this unfortunate mistake. But, sinceyour arrival here, I have noticed your nervous agitation. Somethingtroubles you; may I ask what it is?"

  "Mon Dieu, monsieur, I was afraid. My satchel contains diamonds to thevalue of a hundred thousand francs, and the conduct of your friend wasrather suspicious."

  "But you were frequently absent from Paris. How do you explain that?"

  "I make frequent journeys to other cities in the course of my business.That is all."

  Mon. Dudouis had nothing more to ask. He turned to his subordinate, andsaid:

  "Your investigation has been very superficial, Ganimard, and yourconduct toward this lady is really deplorable. You will come to myoffice to-morrow and explain it."

  The interview was at an end, and Mon. Dudouis was about to leave theroom when a most annoying incident occurred. Madame Real turned toGanimard, and said:

  "I understand that you are Monsieur Ganimard. Am I right?"

  "Yes."

  "Then, this letter must be for you. I received it this morning. It wasaddressed to 'Mon. Justin Ganimard, care of Madame Real.' I thought itwas a joke, because I did not know you under that name, but it appearsthat your unknown correspondent knew of our rendezvous."

  Ganimard was inclined to put the letter in his pocket unread, but hedared not do so in the presence of his superior, so he opened theenvelope and read the letter aloud, in an almost inaudible tone:

  "Once upon a time, there were a blonde Lady, a Lupin, and a Ganimard. Now, the wicked Ganimard had evil designs on the pretty blonde Lady, and the good Lupin was her friend and protector. When the good Lupin wished the blonde Lady to become the friend of the Countess de Crozon, he caused her to assume the name of Madame de Real, which is a close resemblance to the name of a certain diamond broker, a woman with a pale complexion and golden hair. And the good Lupin said to himself: If ever the wicked Ganimard gets upon the track of the blonde Lady, how useful it will be to me if he should be diverted to the track of the honest diamond broker. A wise precaution that has borne good fruit. A little note sent to the newspaper read by the wicked Ganimard, a perfume bottle intentionally forgotten by the genuine blonde Lady at the Hotel Beaurivage, the name and address of Madame Real written on the hotel register by the genuine blonde Lady, and the trick is played. What do you think of it, Ganimard! I wished to tell you the true story of this affair, knowing that you would be the first to laugh over it. Really, it is quite amusing, and I have enjoyed it very much.

  "Accept my best wishes, dear friend, and give my kind regards to the worthy Mon. Dudouis.

  "ARSENE LUPIN."

  "He knows everything," muttered Ganimard, but he did not see the humorof the situation as Lupin had predicted. "He knows some things I havenever mentioned to any one. How could he find out th
at I was going toinvite you here, chief? How could he know that I had found the firstperfume bottle? How could he find out those things?"

  He stamped his feet and tore his hair--a prey to the most tragicdespair. Mon. Dudouis felt sorry for him, and said:

  "Come, Ganimard, never mind; try to do better next time."

  And Mon. Dudouis left the room, accompanied by Madame Real.

  * * * * *

  During the next ten minutes, Ganimard read and re-read the letter ofArsene Lupin. Monsieur and Madame de Crozon, Monsieur d'Hautrec andMonsieur Gerbois were holding an animated discussion in a corner of theroom. At last, the count approached the detective, and said:

  "My dear monsieur, after your investigation, we are no nearer the truththan we were before."

  "Pardon me, but my investigation has established these facts: that theblonde Lady is the mysterious heroine of these exploits, and that ArseneLupin directed them."

  "Those facts do not solve the mystery; in fact, they render it moreobscure. The blonde Lady commits a murder in order to steal the bluediamond, and yet she does not steal it. Afterward she steals it and getsrid of it by secretly giving it to another person. How do you explainher strange conduct?"

  "I cannot explain it."

  "Of course; but, perhaps, someone else can."

  "Who?"

  The Count hesitated, so the Countess replied, frankly:

  "There is only one man besides yourself who is competent to enter thearena with Arsene Lupin and overcome him. Have you any objection to ourengaging the services of Herlock Sholmes in this case?"

  Ganimard was vexed at the question, but stammered a reply:

  "No ... but ... I do not understand what----"

  "Let me explain. All this mystery annoys me. I wish to have it clearedup. Monsieur Gerbois and Monsieur d'Hautrec have the same desire, and wehave agreed to send for the celebrated English detective."

  "You are right, madame," replied the detective, with a loyalty that didhim credit, "you are right. Old Ganimard is not able to overcome ArseneLupin. But will Herlock Sholmes succeed? I hope so, as I have thegreatest admiration for him. But ... it is improbable."

  "Do you mean to say that he will not succeed?"

  "That is my opinion. I can foresee the result of a duel between HerlockSholmes and Arsene Lupin. The Englishman will be defeated."

  "But, in any event, can we count on your assistance?"

  "Quite so, madame. I shall be pleased to render Monsieur Sholmes allpossible assistance."

  "Do you know his address?"

  "Yes; 219 Parker street."

  That evening Monsieur and Madame de Crozon withdrew the charge they hadmade against Herr Bleichen, and a joint letter was addressed to HerlockSholmes.