CHAPTER XII. THE SCAFFOLD
"I will save him, I will save him," Lupin repeated, without ceasing, inthe taxicab in which he and Clarisse drove away. "I swear that I willsave him."
Clarisse did not listen, sat as though numbed, as though possessed bysome great nightmare of death, which left her ignorant of all that washappening outside her. And Lupin set forth his plans, perhaps more toreassure himself than to convince Clarisse. "No, no, the game is notlost yet. There is one trump left, a huge trump, in the shape of theletters and documents which Vorenglade, the ex-deputy, is offering tosell to Daubrecq and of which Daubrecq spoke to you yesterday at Nice.I shall buy those letters and documents of Stanislas Vorengladeat whatever price he chooses to name. Then we shall go back to thepolice-office and I shall say to Prasville, 'Go to the Elysee at once... Use the list as though it were genuine, save Gilbert from death andbe content to acknowledge to-morrow, when Gilbert is saved, that thelist is forged.
"'Be off, quickly!... If you refuse, well, if you refuse, the Vorengladeletters and documents shall be reproduced to-morrow, Tuesday, morningin one of the leading newspapers.' Vorenglade will be arrested. And M.Prasville will find himself in prison before night."
Lupin rubbed his hands:
"He'll do as he's told!... He'll do as he's told!... I felt that atonce, when I was with him. The thing appeared to me as a dead certainty.And I found Vorenglade's address in Daubrecq's pocket-books, so...driver, Boulevard Raspail!"
They went to the address given. Lupin sprang from the cab, ran up threeflights of stairs.
The servant said that M. Vorenglade was away and would not be back untildinner-time next evening.
"And don't you know where he is?"
"M. Vorenglade is in London, sir."
Lupin did not utter a word on returning to the cab. Clarisse, on herside, did not even ask him any questions, so indifferent had she becometo everything, so absolutely did she look upon her son's death as anaccomplished fact.
They drove to the Place de Cichy. As Lupin entered the house hepassed two men who were just leaving the porter's box. He was too muchengrossed to notice them. They were Prasville's inspectors.
"No telegram?" he asked his servant.
"No, governor," replied Achille.
"No news of the Masher and the Growler?"
"No, governor, none."
"That's all right," he said to Clarisse, in a casual tone. "It's onlyseven o'clock and we mustn't reckon on seeing them before eight or nine.Prasville will have to wait, that's all. I will telephone to him towait."
He did so and was hanging up the receiver, when he heard a moan behindhim. Clarisse was standing by the table, reading an evening-paper. Sheput her hand to her heart, staggered and fell.
"Achille, Achille!" cried Lupin, calling his man. "Help me put her on mybed... And then go to the cupboard and get me the medicine-bottle markednumber four, the bottle with the sleeping-draught."
He forced open her teeth with the point of a knife and compelled her toswallow half the bottle:
"Good," he said. "Now the poor thing won't wake till to-morrow...after."
He glanced through the paper, which was still clutched in Clarisse'hand, and read the following lines:
"The strictest measures have been taken to keep order at the execution of Gilbert and Vaucheray, lest Arsene Lupin should make an attempt to rescue his accomplices from the last penalty. At twelve o'clock to-night a cordon of troops will be drawn across all the approaches to the Sante Prison. As already stated, the execution will take place outside the prison-walls, in the square formed by the Boulevard Arago and the Rue de la Sante.
"We have succeeded in obtaining some details of the attitude of the two condemned men. Vaucheray observes a stolid sullenness and is awaiting the fatal event with no little courage:
"'Crikey,' he says, 'I can't say I'm delighted; but I've got to go through it and I shall keep my end up.' And he adds, 'Death I don't care a hang about! What worries me is the thought that they're going to cut my head off. Ah, if the governor could only hit on some trick to send me straight off to the next world before I had time to say knife! A drop of Prussic acid, governor, if you please!'
"Gilbert's calmness is even more impressive, especially when we remember how he broke down at the trial. He retains an unshaken confidence in the omnipotence of Arsene Lupin:
"'The governor shouted to me before everybody not to be afraid, that he was there, that he answered for everything. Well, I'm not afraid. I shall rely on him until the last day, until the last minute, at the very foot of the scaffold. I know the governor! There's no danger with him. He has promised and he will keep his word. If my head were off, he'd come and clap it on my shoulders and firmly! Arsene Lupin allow his chum Gilbert to die? Not he! Excuse my humour!'
"There is a certain touching frankness in all this enthusiasm which is not without a dignity of its own. We shall see if Arsene Lupin deserves the confidence so blindly placed in him."
Lupin was hardly able to finish reading the article for the tears thatdimmed his eyes: tears of affection, tears of pity, tears of distress.
No, he did not deserve the confidence of his chum Gilbert. Certainly, hehad performed impossibilities; but there are circumstances in which wemust perform more than impossibilities, in which we must show ourselvesstronger than fate; and, this time, fate had been stronger than he. Eversince the first day and throughout this lamentable adventure, events hadgone contrary to his anticipations, contrary to logic itself. Clarisseand he, though pursuing an identical aim, had wasted weeks in fightingeach other. Then, at the moment when they were uniting their efforts, aseries of ghastly disasters had come one after the other: the kidnappingof little Jacques, Daubrecq's disappearance, his imprisonment in theLovers' Tower, Lupin's wound, his enforced inactivity, followed by thecunning manoeuvres that dragged Clarisse--and Lupin after her--tothe south, to Italy. And then, as a crowning catastrophe, when, afterprodigies of will-power, after miracles of perseverance, they wereentitled to think that the Golden Fleece was won, it all came tonothing. The list of the Twenty-seven had no more value than the mostinsignificant scrap of paper.
"The game's up!" said Lupin. "It's an absolute defeat. What if I dorevenge myself on Daubrecq, ruin him and destroy him? He is the realvictor, once Gilbert is going to die."
He wept anew, not with spite or rage, but with despair. Gilbert wasgoing to die! The lad whom he called his chum, the best of his palswould be gone for ever, in a few hours. He could not save him. He was atthe end of his tether. He did not even look round for a last expedient.What was the use?
And his persuasion of his own helplessness was so deep, so definite thathe felt no shock of any kind on receiving a telegram from the Masherthat said:
"Motor accident. Essential part broken. Long repair. Arrive to-morrow morning."
It was a last proof to show that fate had uttered its decree. He nolonger thought of rebelling against the decision.
He looked at Clarisse. She was peacefully sleeping; and this totaloblivion, this absence of all consciousness, seemed to him so enviablethat, suddenly yielding to a fit of cowardice, he seized the bottle,still half-filled with the sleeping-draught, and drank it down.
Then he stretched himself on a couch and rang for his man:
"Go to bed, Achille, and don't wake me on any pretence whatever."
"Then there's nothing to be done for Gilbert and Vaucheray, governor?"said Achille.
"Nothing."
"Are they going through it?"
"They are going through it."
Twenty minutes later Lupin fell into a heavy sleep. It was ten o'clockin the evening.
The night was full of incident and noise around the prison. At oneo'clock in the morning the Rue de la Sante, the Boulevard Arago and allthe streets abutting on the gaol were guarded by police, who allowed noone to pass without a regular cross-examination.
For that matter, it was raining in torrents; and it seemed as thoughthe l
overs of this sort of show would not be very numerous. Thepublic-houses were all closed by special order. At four o'clock threecompanies of infantry came and took up their positions along thepavements, while a battalion occupied the Boulevard Arago in case ofa surprise. Municipal guards cantered up and down between the lines; awhole staff of police-magistrates, officers and functionaries, broughttogether for the occasion, moved about among the troops.
The guillotine was set up in silence, in the middle of the square formedby the boulevard and the street; and the sinister sound of hammering washeard.
But, at five o'clock, the crowd gathered, notwithstanding the rain, andpeople began to sing. They shouted for the footlights, called for thecurtain to rise, were exasperated to see that, at the distance at whichthe barriers had been fixed, they could hardly distinguish the uprightsof the guillotine.
Several carriages drove up, bringing official persons dressed in black.There were cheers and hoots, whereupon a troop of mounted municipalguards scattered the groups and cleared the space to a distance of threehundred yards from the square. Two fresh companies of soldiers lined up.
And suddenly there was a great silence. A vague white light fell fromthe dark sky. The rain ceased abruptly.
Inside the prison, at the end of the passage containing the condemnedcells, the men in black were conversing in low voices. Prasville wastalking to the public prosecutor, who expressed his fears:
"No, no," declared Prasville, "I assure you, it will pass without anincident of any kind."
"Do your reports mention nothing at all suspicious, monsieur lesecretaire-general?"
"Nothing. And they can't mention anything, for the simple reason that wehave Lupin."
"Do you mean that?"
"Yes, we know his hiding-place. The house where he lives, on the Placede Clichy, and where he went at seven o'clock last night, is surrounded.Moreover, I know the scheme which he had contrived to save his twoaccomplices. The scheme miscarried at the last moment. We have nothingto fear, therefore. The law will take its course."
Meanwhile, the hour had struck.
They took Vaucheray first; and the governor of the prison ordered thedoor of his cell to be opened. Vaucheray leapt out of bed and cast eyesdilated with terror upon the men who entered.
"Vaucheray, we have come to tell you..."
"Stow that, stow that," he muttered. "No words. I know all about it. Geton with the business."
One would have thought that he was in a hurry for it to be over as fastas possible, so readily did he submit to the usual preparations. But hewould not allow any of them to speak to him:
"No words," he repeated. "What? Confess to the priest? Not worth while.I have shed blood. The law sheds my blood. It's the good old rule. We'requits."
Nevertheless, he stopped short for a moment:
"I say, is my mate going through it too?"
And, when he heard that Gilbert would go to the scaffold at the sametime as himself, he had two or three seconds of hesitation, glancedat the bystanders, seemed about to speak, was silent and, at last,muttered:
"It's better so.... They'll pull us through together... we'll clinkglasses together."
Gilbert was not asleep either, when the men entered his cell.
Sitting on his bed, he listened to the terrible words, tried to standup, began to tremble frightfully, from head to foot, like a skeletonwhen shaken, and then fell back, sobbing:
"Oh, my poor mummy, poor mummy!" he stammered.
They tried to question him about that mother, of whom he had neverspoken; but his tears were interrupted by a sudden fit of rebellion andhe cried:
"I have done no murder... I won't die. I have done no murder..."
"Gilbert," they said, "show yourself a man."
"Yes, yes... but I have done no murder... Why should I die?"
His teeth chattered so loudly that words which he uttered becameunintelligible. He let the men do their work, made his confession, heardmass and then, growing calmer and almost docile, with the voice of alittle child resigning itself, murmured:
"Tell my mother that I beg her forgiveness."
"Your mother?"
"Yes... Put what I say in the papers... She will understand... Andthen..."
"What, Gilbert?"
"Well, I want the governor to know that I have not lost confidence."
He gazed at the bystanders, one after the other, as though heentertained the mad hope that "the governor" was one of them, disguisedbeyond recognition and ready to carry him off in his arms:
"Yes," he said, gently and with a sort of religious piety, "yes, I stillhave confidence, even at this moment... Be sure and let him know, won'tyou?... I am positive that he will not let me die. I am certain ofit..."
They guessed, from the fixed look in his eyes, that he saw Lupin, thathe felt Lupin's shadow prowling around and seeking an inlet throughwhich to get to him. And never was anything more touching than the sightof that stripling--clad in the strait-jacket, with his arms and legsbound, guarded by thousands of men--whom the executioner already held inhis inexorable hand and who, nevertheless, hoped on.
Anguish wrung the hearts of all the beholders. Their eyes were dimmedwith tears:
"Poor little chap!" stammered some one.
Prasville, touched like the rest and thinking of Clarisse, repeated, ina whisper:
"Poor little chap!"
But the hour struck, the preparations were finished. They set out.
The two processions met in the passage. Vaurheray, on seeing Gilbert,snapped out:
"I say, kiddie, the governor's chucked us!"
And he added a sentence which nobody, save Prasville, was able tounderstand:
"Expect he prefers to pocket the proceeds of the crystal stopper."
They went down the staircases. They crossed the prison-yards. Anendless, horrible distance.
And, suddenly, in the frame of the great doorway, the wan light of day,the rain, the street, the outlines of houses, while far-off sounds camethrough the awful silence.
They walked along the wall, to the corner of the boulevard.
A few steps farther Vaucheray started back: he had seen!
Gilbert crept along, with lowered head, supported by an executioner'sassistant and by the chaplain, who made him kiss the crucifix as hewent.
There stood the guillotine.
"No, no," shouted Gilbert, "I won't... I won't... Help! Help!"
A last appeal, lost in space.
The executioner gave a signal. Vaucheray was laid hold of, lifted,dragged along, almost at a run.
And then came this staggering thing: a shot, a shot fired from the otherside, from one of the houses opposite.
The assistants stopped short.
The burden which they were dragging had collapsed in their arms.
"What is it? What's happened?" asked everybody.
"He's wounded..."
Blood spurted from Vaucheray's forehead and covered his face.
He spluttered:
"That's done it... one in a thousand! Thank you, governor, thank you."
"Finish him off! Carry him there!" said a voice, amid the generalconfusion.
"But he's dead!"
"Get on with it... finish him off!"
Tumult was at its height, in the little group of magistrates, officialsand policemen. Every one was giving orders:
"Execute him!... The law must take its course!... We have no right todelay! It would be cowardice!... Execute him!"
"But the man's dead!"
"That makes no difference!... The law must be obeyed!... Execute him!"
The chaplain protested, while two warders and Prasville kept their eyeson Gilbert. In the meantime, the assistants had taken up the corpseagain and were carrying it to the guillotine.
"Hurry up!" cried the executioner, scared and hoarse-voiced. "Hurry up!... And the other one to follow... Waste no time..."
He had not finished speaking, when a second report rang out. He spunround on his heels and
fell, groaning:
"It's nothing... a wound in the shoulder... Go on... The next one'sturn!"
But his assistants were running away, yelling with terror. The spacearound the guillotine was cleared. And the prefect of police, rallyinghis men, drove everybody back to the prison, helter-skelter, like adisordered rabble: the magistrates, the officials, the condemned man,the chaplain, all who had passed through the archway two or threeminutes before.
In the meanwhile, a squad of policemen, detectives and soldiers wererushing upon the house, a little old-fashioned, three-storied house,with a ground-floor occupied by two shops which happened to be empty.Immediately after the first shot, they had seen, vaguely, at one ofthe windows on the second floor, a man holding a rifle in his hand andsurrounded with a cloud of smoke.
Revolver-shots were fired at him, but missed him. He, standing calmly ona table, took aim a second time, fired from the shoulder; and the crackof the second report was heard. Then he withdrew into the room.
Down below, as nobody answered the peal at the bell, the assailantsdemolished the door, which gave way almost immediately. They made forthe staircase, but their onrush was at once stopped, on the firstfloor, by an accumulation of beds, chairs and other furniture, forminga regular barricade and so close-entangled that it took the aggressorsfour or five minutes to clear themselves a passage.
Those four or five minutes lost were enough to render all pursuithopeless. When they reached the second floor they heard a voice shoutingfrom above:
"This way, friends! Eighteen stairs more. A thousand apologies forgiving you so much trouble!"
They ran up those eighteen stairs and nimbly at that! But, at the top,above the third story, was the garret, which was reached by a ladder anda trapdoor. And the fugitive had taken away the ladder and bolted thetrapdoor.
The reader will not have forgotten the sensation created by this amazingaction, the editions of the papers issued in quick succession, thenewsboys tearing and shouting through the streets, the whole metropolison edge with indignation and, we may say, with anxious curiosity.
But it was at the headquarters of police that the excitement developedinto a paroxysm. Men flung themselves about on every side. Messages,telegrams, telephone calls followed one upon the other.
At last, at eleven o'clock in the morning, there was a meeting inthe office of the prefect of police, and Prasville was there. Thechief-detective read a report of his inquiry, the results of whichamounted to this: shortly before midnight yesterday some one had rungat the house on the Boulevard Arago. The portress, who slept in a smallroom on the ground-floor, behind one of the shops pulled the rope. A mancame and tapped at her door. He said that he had come from the police onan urgent matter concerning to-morrow's execution. The portress openedthe door and was at once attacked, gagged and bound.
Ten minutes later a lady and gentleman who lived on the first floor andwho had just come home were also reduced to helplessness by the sameindividual and locked up, each in one of the two empty shops. Thethird-floor tenant underwent a similar fate, but in his own flat and hisown bedroom, which the man was able to enter without being heard. Thesecond floor was unoccupied, and the man took up his quarters there. Hewas now master of the house.
"And there we are!" said the prefect of police, beginning to laugh, witha certain bitterness. "There we are! It's as simple as shelling peas.Only, what surprises me is that he was able to get away so easily."
"I will ask you to observe, monsieur le prefet, that, being absolutemaster of the house from one o'clock in the morning, he had until fiveo'clock to prepare his flight."
"And that flight took place...?"
"Over the roofs. At that spot the houses in the next street, the Rue dela Glaciere, are quite near and there is only one break in the roofs,about three yards wide, with a drop of one yard in height."
"Well?"
"Well, our man had taken away the ladder leading to the garret and usedit as a foot-bridge. After crossing to the next block of buildings, allhe had to do was to look through the windows until he found an emptyattic, enter one of the houses in the Rue de la Glaciere and walk outquietly with his hands in his pockets. In this way his flight, dulyprepared beforehand, was effected very simply and without the leastobstacle."
"But you had taken the necessary measures."
"Those which you ordered, monsieur le prefet. My men spent three hourslast evening visiting all the houses, so as to make sure that there wasno stranger hiding there. At the moment when they were leaving the lasthouse I had the street barred. Our man must have slipped through duringthat few minutes' interval."
"Capital! Capital! And there is no doubt in your minds, of course: it'sArsene Lupin?"
"Not a doubt. In the first place, it was all a question of hisaccomplices. And then... and then... no one but Arsene Lupin wascapable of contriving such a master-stroke and carrying it out with thatinconceivable boldness."
"But, in that case," muttered the prefect of police--and, turning toPrasville, he continued--"but, in that case, my dear Prasville,the fellow of whom you spoke to me, the fellow whom you and thechief-detective have had watched since yesterday evening, in his flat inthe Place de Clichy, that fellow is not Arsene Lupin?"
"Yes, he is, monsieur le prefet. There is no doubt about that either."
"Then why wasn't he arrested when he went out last night?"
"He did not go out."
"I say, this is getting complicated!"
"It's quite simple, monsieur le prefet. Like all the houses in whichtraces of Arsene Lupin are to be found, the house in the Place de Cichyhas two outlets."
"And you didn't know it?"
"I didn't know it. I only discovered it this morning, on inspecting theflat."
"Was there no one in the flat?"
"No. The servant, a man called Achille, went away this morning, takingwith him a lady who was staying with Lupin."
"What was the lady's name?"
"I don't know," replied Prasville, after an imperceptible hesitation.
"But you know the name under which Arsene Lupin passed?"
"Yes. M. Nicole, a private tutor, master of arts and so on. Here is hiscard."
As Prasville finished speaking, an office-messenger came to tell theprefect of police that he was wanted immediately at the Elysee. Theprime minister was there already.
"I'm coming," he said. And he added, between his teeth, "It's to decideupon Gilbert's fate."
Prasville ventured:
"Do you think they will pardon him, monsieur le prefet?"
"Never! After last night's affair, it would make a most deplorableimpression. Gilbert must pay his debt to-morrow morning."
The messenger had, at the same time, handed Prasville a visiting-card.Prasville now looked at it, gave a start and muttered:
"Well, I'm hanged! What a nerve!"
"What's the matter?" asked the prefect of police.
"Nothing, nothing, monsieur le prefet," declared Prasville, who did notwish to share with another the honour of seeing this business through."Nothing... an unexpected visit... I hope soon to have the pleasure oftelling you the result."
And he walked away, mumbling, with an air of amazement:
"Well, upon my word! What a nerve the beggar has! What a nerve!"
The visiting-card which he held in his hand bore these words:
M. Nicole,
Master of Arts, Private Tutor.