Part 14

He slipped back along the balustrade, hat in hand. Nelly passed before him. He was tempted to detain her, to implore her. His boldness failed him, and he followed her with his eyes, as on that distant day when she crossed the footbridge on the quay at New York. She climbed the steps that lead to the door. For one moment more her slender silhouette stood out among the marbles of the vestibule. He saw her no longer.

A cloud obscured the sun. Arsène Lupin stood motionless, observing the trace of small footsteps imprinted in the sand. Suddenly he started: upon the bamboo crate against which Nelly had leaned lay the rose, the pale rose that he had not dared to ask of her... Forgotten also, was it? But forgotten willingly or by distraction?

He seized it eagerly. Petals detached themselves. He gathered them one by one like relics...

--Come, he said to himself, I have nothing more to do here. Let us think of retreat. All the more since if Herlock Sholmès meddles in it, that could turn ugly.

* * *

The park was deserted. However, near the pavilion commanding the entrance, a group of gendarmes stood. He slipped into the thickets, scaled the enclosing wall, and took, to reach the nearest station, a path that wound among the fields. He had not walked ten minutes when the road narrowed, sunk between two embankments, and as he arrived in this defile, someone was entering it who came from the opposite direction.

It was a man of perhaps fifty years or so, rather stout, clean-shaven, and whose attire marked him as a foreigner. He carried a heavy cane in his hand, and a satchel hung from his neck.

They crossed paths. The stranger said, with an almost imperceptible English accent:

--Excuse me, Sir... is this indeed the road to the château?

--Straight ahead, Sir, and to the left as soon as you are at the foot of the wall. You are awaited with impatience.

--Ah!

--Yes, my friend Devanne was announcing your visit as early as last evening.

--Too bad for Mr. Devanne if he spoke too much.

--And I am happy to be the first to greet you. Herlock Sholmès has no more fervent admirer than myself.

There was in his voice an imperceptible nuance of irony that he at once regretted, for Herlock Sholmès regarded him from head to foot, and with an eye at once so enveloping and so keen, that Arsène Lupin had the impression of being seized, imprisoned, registered by that gaze, more exactly and more essentially than he had ever been by any photographic apparatus.

--The plate is taken, he thought. No use disguising myself with that fellow. Only... has he recognized me?

They saluted. But a sound of steps rang out, a sound of horses caracoling in a clatter of steel. It was the gendarmes. The two men had to press against the embankment, in the tall grass, to avoid being jostled. The gendarmes passed, and as they followed at some distance, it lasted rather long. And Lupin reflected:

--All depends on this question: has he recognized me? If yes, there is good chance he will abuse the situation. The problem is anguishing.

When the last horseman had passed them, Herlock Sholmès rose and, without a word, brushed his garment soiled with dust. The strap of his bag was caught on a branch of thorns. Arsène Lupin hastened. For one second more they examined each other. And, had anyone been able to surprise them at that instant, it would have been a moving spectacle, that first meeting of these two men, so strange, so powerfully armed, both truly superior, and fatally destined by their special aptitudes to clash like two equal forces that the order of things pushes one against the other across space.

Then the Englishman said:

--I thank you, Sir.

--Entirely at your service, replied Lupin.

They parted. Lupin headed toward the station; Herlock Sholmès toward the château.

The examining magistrate and the prosecutor had left after vain searches, and Herlock Sholmès was awaited with a curiosity justified by his great reputation. One was a little disappointed by his aspect of good bourgeois, which differed so profoundly from the image one had formed of him. He had nothing of the novel hero, of the enigmatic and diabolical personage that the idea of Herlock Sholmès evokes in us. Devanne, however, cried out full of exuberance:

--At last, Master, it is you! What happiness! I have hoped for so long... I am almost happy at all that has happened, since it earns me the pleasure of seeing you. But, by the way, how did you come?

--By train!

--What a pity! Yet I had sent my automobile to the landing stage.

--An official arrival, was it not? with drum and music! Excellent means to facilitate my task, grumbled the Englishman.

This uninviting tone disconcerted Devanne who, striving to jest, resumed:

--The task, happily, is easier than I wrote you.

--And why?

--Because the theft took place this night.

--If you had not announced my visit, Sir, it is probable the theft would not have taken place this night.

--And when then?

--Tomorrow, or another day.

--And in that case?

--Lupin would have been caught in the trap.

--And my furniture?

--Would not have been carried off.

--My furniture is here.

--Here?

--It was brought back at three o'clock.

--By Lupin?

--By two military wagons.

Herlock Sholmès violently thrust his hat upon his head and readjusted his bag; but Devanne, in a terrible state, cried:

--What are you doing?

--I am leaving.

--And why?

--Your furniture is there, Arsène Lupin is far. My role is finished.

--But I absolutely need your assistance, dear sir. What happened yesterday may renew itself tomorrow, since we ignore the most important thing, how Arsène Lupin entered, how he left, and why, a few hours later, he proceeded to this restitution.

--Ah! you ignore...

The idea of a secret to discover softened Herlock Sholmès.

--Very well, let us search. But quickly, is it not? and, as much as possible, alone.

The phrase clearly designated the bystanders. Devanne understood and introduced the Englishman into the salon. In a dry tone, in phrases that seemed counted in advance, and with what parsimony! Sholmès put questions to him on the evening before, on the guests who were there, on the regulars of the château. Then he examined the two volumes of the Chronicle, compared the maps of the underground passage, had the quotations noted by Abbé Gélis repeated, and asked:

--It was indeed yesterday that, for the first time, you spoke of these two quotations?

--Yesterday.

--You had never communicated them to Mr. Horace Velmont?

--Never.

--Good. Order your automobile. I leave again in an hour.

--In an hour!

--Arsène Lupin did not take more to resolve the problem you posed him.

--I!... I posed him...

--Why yes, Arsène Lupin and Velmont are one and the same.

--I suspected as much... ah! the scoundrel!

--Now, last evening, at ten o'clock, you furnished Lupin the elements of truth that were lacking to him and that he had sought for weeks. And, in the course of the night, Lupin found time to understand, to gather his band, and to rob you. I have the pretension to be as expeditious.

He walked from one end of the room to the other reflecting, then sat down, crossed his long legs, and closed his eyes.

Devanne waited, rather embarrassed.

--Is he sleeping? Reflecting?

By way of precaution he went out to give orders. When he returned he perceived him at the foot of the gallery staircase, on his knees, scrutinizing the carpet.

--What then?

--Look... there... those candle stains...

--Why, indeed... and quite fresh...

--And you may observe them also on the top of the staircase, and even more around that display case which Arsène Lupin forced, and from which he removed the trinkets to place them on this armchair.

--And you conclude?

--Nothing. All these facts would explain without any doubt the restitution he operated. But it is one side of the question that I have no time to approach. The essential is the tracing of the underground passage.

--You still hope...

--I do not hope, I know. There exists, does it not, a chapel two or three hundred meters from the château?

--A chapel in ruins, where the tomb of Duke Rollon is found.

--Tell your chauffeur to await us near that chapel.

--My chauffeur is not yet returned... I am to be notified... But, from what I see, you esteem that the underground passage leads to the chapel. On what clue...

Herlock Sholmès interrupted him:

--I would ask you, Sir, to procure me a ladder and a lantern.

--Ah! you need a lantern and a ladder?

--Apparently, since I ask you for them.

Devanne, somewhat taken aback by this rough logic, rang. The two objects were brought.

Orders then followed with the rigor and precision of military commands.

--Apply this ladder against the bookcase, to the left of the word Thibermesnil...

Devanne raised the ladder and the Englishman continued:

--More to the left... to the right... Halt!... Climb... Good... All the letters of this word are in relief, are they not?

--Yes.

--Let us occupy ourselves with the letter H. Does it turn one way or the other?

Devanne grasped the letter H, and exclaimed:

--But yes, it turns! to the right, and by a quarter circle! Who then revealed to you?...

Without answering, Herlock Sholmès resumed:

--Can you, from where you are, reach the letter R? Yes... Move it several times, as you would a bolt that one pushes and withdraws.

Devanne moved the letter R. To his great stupefaction, an interior release occurred.

--Perfect, said Herlock Sholmès. It remains only for you to slide your ladder to the other extremity, that is to say at the end of the word Thibermesnil... Good... And now, if I have not been mistaken, if things accomplish as they should, the letter L will open like a wicket.

With a certain solemnity, Devanne grasped the letter L. The letter L opened, but Devanne tumbled from his ladder, for all the part of the bookcase situated between the first and last letter of the word pivoted upon itself and disclosed the orifice of the underground passage.

Herlock Sholmès pronounced, phlegmatically:

--You are not hurt?

--No, no, said Devanne rising, not hurt, but dumbfounded, I confess... these letters that move... this yawning passage...

--And after? Is it not exactly conformable to the quotation of Sully?

--In what, Lord?

--Why! The H turns, the R trembles and the L opens... and that is what permitted Henri IV to receive Mlle de Tancarville at an unusual hour.

--But Louis XVI? asked Devanne abashed.

--Louis XVI was a great smith and skillful locksmith. I have read a «Treatise on Combination Locks» attributed to him. On the part of Thibermesnil, it was to behave as a good courtier to show his master this masterpiece of mechanics. For the record, the king wrote: 2-6-12, that is to say, H. R. L., the second, the sixth and the twelfth letter of the word.

--Ah! perfect, I begin to understand... Only, see here... If I explain to myself how one leaves this room, I do not explain how Lupin was able to enter it. For, note well, he came from outside, he.

Herlock Sholmès lit the lantern and advanced a few steps into the underground passage.

--See, all the mechanism is apparent here, like the springs of a clock, and all the letters are found there reversed. Lupin therefore had only to make them play from this side of the partition.

--What proof?

--What proof? See this pool of oil. Lupin had even foreseen that the gears would need greasing, said Herlock Sholmès not without admiration.

--But then he knew the other exit?

--As I know it. Follow me.

--Into the underground passage?

--Are you afraid?

--No, but are you sure to find your way?

--Eyes closed.

They descended first twelve steps, then twelve others, and again twice twelve others. Then, they entered a long corridor whose brick walls bore the mark of successive restorations and which oozed in places. The ground was damp.

--We are passing under the pond, remarked Devanne, not at all reassured.

The corridor led to a staircase of twelve steps, followed by three other staircases of twelve steps that they painfully climbed, and they emerged in a small cavity carved from the rock. The path went no further.

--Devil, murmured Herlock Sholmès, nothing but bare walls, this becomes embarrassing.

--If we returned, murmured Devanne, for, after all, I see no necessity of knowing more. I am enlightened.

But, having raised his head, the Englishman gave a sigh of relief: above them repeated the same mechanism as at the entrance. He had only to have the three letters operated. A block of granite toppled. It was, on the other side, the tombstone of Duke Rollon, engraved with the twelve letters in relief «Thibermesnil». And they found themselves in the small chapel in ruins that the Englishman had designated.

--«And one goes as far as God», that is to say as far as the chapel, said he, reporting the end of the quotation.

--Is it possible, cried Devanne, confounded by the clear-sightedness and vivacity of Herlock Sholmès, is it possible that this simple indication sufficed you?

--Bah! said the Englishman, it was even useless. On the copy of the National Library, the line ends at left, you know, by a circle, and at right, you ignore it, by a small cross, but so faded one can see it only with a loupe. This cross evidently signifies the chapel where we are.

The poor Devanne could not believe his ears.

--It is unheard of, miraculous, and yet of a childlike simplicity! How has no one ever pierced this mystery?

--Because no one has ever assembled the three or four necessary elements, that is to say the two books and the quotations... No one, save Arsène Lupin and me.

--But, I too, objected Devanne, and Abbé Gélis... We both knew as much as you, and nevertheless...

Sholmès smiled.

--Mr. Devanne, everyone is not apt to decipher enigmas.

--But it is ten years that I search. And you, in ten minutes...

--Bah! habit...

They left the chapel, and the Englishman cried:

--Why, an automobile awaits!

--But it is mine!

--Yours? but I thought the chauffeur had not returned.

--Indeed... and I wonder...

They advanced to the vehicle, and Devanne, addressing the chauffeur:

--Édouard, who gave you the order to come here?

--But, answered the man, it is Mr. Velmont.

--Mr. Velmont? You then encountered him?

--Near the station, and he told me to go to the chapel.

--To go to the chapel! but why?

--To await monsieur there... and the friend of monsieur.

Devanne and Herlock Sholmès looked at each other. Devanne said:

--He understood that the enigma would be a game for you. The homage is delicate.

A smile of contentment creased the thin lips of the detective. The homage pleased him. He pronounced, nodding:

--He is a man. Besides, merely seeing him, I had judged him.

--You then saw him?

--We crossed just now.

--And you knew it was Horace Velmont, I mean Arsène Lupin?

--No, but I was not long in guessing it... at a certain irony on his part.

--And you let him escape?

--Faith, yes... I had however the fine opportunity... five gendarmes passing.

--But, zounds! it was the occasion or never to take advantage...

--Precisely, Sir, said the Englishman with hauteur, when it is a question of an adversary like Arsène Lupin, Herlock Sholmès does not take advantage of occasions... he makes them arise...

But the hour pressed and, since Lupin had had the charming attention of sending the automobile, it was necessary to profit from it without delay. Devanne and Herlock Sholmès installed themselves at the back of the comfortable limousine. Édouard gave the crank turn and they left. Fields, clumps of trees, filed past. The soft undulations of the pays de Caux leveled before them. Suddenly the eyes of Devanne were attracted by a small package placed in one of the door pockets.

--Why, what is that? A package! And for whom? But it is for you.

--For me?

--Read: «Mr. Herlock Sholmès, from Arsène Lupin.»

The Englishman seized the package, untied it, removed the two sheets of paper that wrapped it. It was a watch.

--Aoh! said he, accompanying this exclamation with a gesture of anger...

--A watch, said Devanne, is it by chance?...

The Englishman did not answer.

--How! it is your watch! Arsène Lupin returns your watch to you! But if he returns it to you, it is that he had taken it... He had taken your watch! Ah! that is a good one, the watch of Herlock Sholmès filched by Arsène Lupin! God, how funny! No, truly... you will excuse me... but it is stronger than me.

He laughed at full throat, unable to contain himself. And when he had well laughed, he affirmed, in a convinced tone:

--Oh! he is a man, indeed.

The Englishman did not flinch. Until Dieppe, he pronounced not a word, eyes fixed on the fleeing horizon. His silence was terrible, unfathomable, more violent than the fiercest rage. At the landing stage, he said simply, without anger this time, but in a tone where one felt all the will and all the energy of the personage:

--Yes, he is a man, and a man upon whose shoulder I shall have pleasure to place this hand that I extend you, Mr. Devanne. And I have an idea, see you, that Arsène Lupin and Herlock Sholmès will meet again one day or another... Yes, the world is too small for them not to meet... and that day...

THE END

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

The Arrest of Arsène Lupin

Arsène Lupin in Prison

The Escape of Arsène Lupin

The Mysterious Traveler

The Queen's Necklace

The Seven of Hearts

The Safe of Madame Imbert

The Black Pearl

Herlock Sholmès Arrives Too Late

“Stories of the world, in your language.”