Part 3

--No funny business, hear? We're not here to sleep. At the first alarm, open the courtyard windows and call me. Also keep an eye on the water side. Ten meters of straight cliff—scoundrels of their caliber aren't frightened by that.

He locked them in, took the keys, and said to the baron:

--And now, to our post.

He had chosen, to spend the night in, a small room built into the thickness of the enclosing walls, between the two main gates, which in former times had been the watchman's closet. A peephole opened onto the bridge, another onto the courtyard. In one corner could be seen what looked like the mouth of a well.

--You did tell me, Monsieur le Baron, that this well is the only entrance to the underground passages, and that, within living memory, it has been sealed?

--Yes.

--Therefore, unless there exists another exit unknown to all save Arsène Lupin, which seems rather doubtful, we have nothing to worry about.

He lined up three chairs, stretched out comfortably, lit his pipe, and sighed:

--Truly, Monsieur le Baron, I must be desperately eager to add a story to the little house where I am to end my days, to accept a job as elementary as this. I'll tell the tale to my friend Lupin, he'll split his sides laughing.

The baron did not laugh. Ear to the listening-post, he interrogated the silence with growing unease. From time to time he leaned over the well and plunged an anxious eye into the gaping hole.

Eleven o'clock, midnight, one o'clock struck.

Suddenly he seized Ganimard's arm, who started awake with a jolt.

--Do you hear?

--Yes.

--What is it?

--It's me snoring!

--But no, listen...

--Ah! perfectly clear, it's the horn of an automobile.

--Well?

--Well, it's unlikely Lupin would use an automobile like a battering ram to demolish your castle. So, Monsieur le Baron, in your place I'd sleep... as I am once more going to have the honor of doing. Good night.

That was the only alarm. Ganimard was able to resume his interrupted doze, and the baron heard nothing more than his loud, regular snoring.

At daybreak they left their cell. A great serene peace, the peace of morning by the fresh water, enveloped the castle. Cahorn radiant with joy, Ganimard ever placid, they climbed the stairs. No sound. Nothing suspicious.

--What did I tell you, Monsieur le Baron? Deep down, I shouldn't have accepted... I'm ashamed...

He took the keys and entered the gallery.

On two chairs, hunched over, arms dangling, the two agents were sleeping.

--Thunder of a dog's name! grumbled the inspector.

At the same instant the baron gave a cry:

--The paintings!... the sideboard!...

He stammered, choked, hand outstretched toward the empty places, toward the bare walls where nails stuck out, where useless cords hung. The Watteau, gone! the Rubens, carried off! the tapestries, taken down! the display cases, emptied of their jewels!

--And my Louis XVI candelabra!... and the Regent's chandelier!... and my twelfth-century Virgin!...

He ran from place to place, aghast, despairing. He recalled his purchase prices, added up the losses suffered, piled up figures, all in a jumble, in indistinct words, in unfinished sentences. He stamped his feet, he convulsed, mad with rage and grief. He looked like a ruined man who has nothing left but to blow his brains out.

If anything could have consoled him, it would have been the sight of Ganimard's stupefaction. Unlike the baron, the inspector did not move. He seemed petrified, and with a vacant eye examined the things. The windows? closed. The door locks? intact. No breach in the ceiling. No hole in the floor. Order was perfect. All of it must have been done methodically, according to an inexorable and logical plan.

--Arsène Lupin... Arsène Lupin, he murmured, crushed.

Suddenly he pounced on the two agents, as if anger had at last shaken him, and he shoved them furiously and cursed them. They did not wake!

--The devil, said he, could it be by chance?...

He leaned over them and, one after the other, observed them attentively: they slept, but with a sleep that was not natural.

He said to the baron:

--They were put to sleep.

--But by whom?

--Why, by him, of course!... or his gang, but directed by him. It's a job in his style. The claw-mark is there all right.

--In that case, I am lost, nothing to be done.

--Nothing to be done.

--But this is abominable, this is monstrous.

--File a complaint.

--What good?

--Well! try anyway... the law has resources...

--The law! but you see for yourself... Look, at this very moment, when you could be looking for a clue, discovering something, you're not even moving.

--Discover something with Arsène Lupin! But, my dear sir, Arsène Lupin never leaves anything behind him! There is no chance with Arsène Lupin! I'm beginning to wonder if it wasn't voluntarily that he got himself arrested by me, in America!

--Then I must give up my paintings, everything! But these were the pearls of my collection that he stole from me. I would give a fortune to get them back. If nothing can be done against him, let him name his price!

Ganimard looked at him fixedly.

--Now that's a sensible word. You won't take it back?

--No, no, no. But why?

--An idea I have.

--What idea?

--We'll speak of it if the investigation leads nowhere... Only, not a word about me, if you want me to succeed.

He added under his breath:

--And besides, truly, I have nothing to boast about.

The two agents were gradually coming to, with the dazed air of those emerging from hypnotic sleep. They opened astonished eyes, they tried to understand. When Ganimard questioned them, they remembered nothing.

--And yet, you must have seen someone?

--No.

--Think back?

--No, no.

--And you drank nothing?

They reflected, and one of them answered:

--Yes, I drank a little water.

--Water from that carafe?

--Yes.

--Me too, declared the second.

Ganimard smelled it, tasted it. It had no special taste, no odor.

--Come, said he, we're wasting our time. You don't solve problems posed by Arsène Lupin in five minutes. But, zounds! I swear I'll nab him again. He wins the second round. Mine the next!

That very day, a complaint for aggravated theft was filed by Baron de Cahorn against Arsène Lupin, detained at La Santé!

* * *

This complaint the baron often regretted when he saw the Malaquis thrown open to the gendarmes, to the prosecutor, to the examining magistrate, to the journalists, to all the curious who insinuate themselves everywhere they shouldn't be.

The affair already gripped public opinion. It occurred under such particular conditions, the name of Arsène Lupin so excited imaginations, that the most fanciful stories filled the columns of the newspapers and found credence with the public.

But the initial letter of Arsène Lupin, which the _Écho de France_ published (and no one ever knew who had communicated the text), that letter in which Baron Cahorn was shamelessly warned of what threatened him, caused considerable emotion. At once fabulous explanations were offered. The existence of the famous underground passages was recalled. And the prosecutor's office, influenced, pushed its researches in that direction.

They searched the castle from top to bottom. They questioned each stone. They studied the woodwork and the chimneys, the mirror frames and the ceiling beams. By torchlight they examined the immense cellars where the lords of the Malaquis once piled their ammunition and provisions. They sounded the bowels of the rock. All in vain. They discovered not the slightest vestige of a passage. There was no secret exit.

Very well, came the answer from all sides, but furniture and paintings don't vanish like ghosts. They go out by doors and windows, and the people who take them, get in and get out likewise by doors and windows. Who are these people? How did they get in? And how did they leave?

The Rouen prosecutor's office, convinced of its impotence, solicited the help of Parisian agents. M. Dudouis, the head of the Sûreté, sent his best bloodhounds of the flying squad. He himself spent forty-eight hours at the Malaquis. He succeeded no better.

It was then that he summoned Chief Inspector Ganimard, whose services he had so often had occasion to appreciate.

Ganimard listened silently to his superior's instructions, then, shaking his head, pronounced:

--I think we're on the wrong track in insisting on searching the castle. The solution is elsewhere.

--And where?

--With Arsène Lupin.

--With Arsène Lupin! To suppose that is to admit his intervention.

--I admit it. More than that, I consider it certain.

--Come now, Ganimard, it's absurd. Arsène Lupin is in prison.

--Arsène Lupin is in prison, granted. He is watched, I concede you. But he could have irons on his feet, ropes on his wrists and a gag in his mouth, and I would not change my mind.

--And why this obstinacy?

--Because alone, Arsène Lupin is capable of devising a machine of this magnitude, and of devising it so that it succeeds... as it has succeeded.

--Words, Ganimard!

--Which are realities. But there, let no one look for a subterranean passage, stones turning on a pivot, and other nonsense of that caliber. Our individual doesn't use methods so old-fashioned. He is of today, or rather of tomorrow.

--And your conclusion?

--My conclusion is to ask you plainly for permission to spend an hour with him.

--In his cell?

--Yes. On the return from America we maintained, during the crossing, excellent relations, and I dare say he has some sympathy for the one who knew how to arrest him. If he can inform me without compromising himself, he won't hesitate to spare me a useless trip.

It was a little past noon when Ganimard was shown into Arsène Lupin's cell. The latter, stretched on his bed, raised his head and gave a cry of joy.

--Ah! now this is a real surprise. Dear Ganimard, here!

--Himself.

--I desired many things in the retirement I have chosen... but none more passionately than to receive you there.

--Too kind.

--But no, but no, I hold you in the liveliest esteem.

--I am proud of it.

--I have always maintained: Ganimard is our best detective. He is almost worth--you see how frank I am!--he is almost worth Sherlock Holmes. But, in truth, I am sorry to have only this stool to offer you. And not a refreshment! not a glass of beer! Excuse me, I'm just passing through.

Ganimard sat down smiling, and the prisoner resumed, happy to talk:

--Good Lord, how glad I am to rest my eyes on the face of an honest man! I've had enough of all those spy faces and stool-pigeons who pass ten times a day reviewing my pockets and my modest cell, to make sure I'm not preparing an escape. Zounds, how the government cares for me!...

--It's right to.

--But no! I'd be so happy if they'd let me live in my little corner!

--With the income of others.

--Isn't that so? It would be so simple! But I'm chattering, I'm talking nonsense, and you may be in a hurry. To the point, Ganimard! What is the honor of a visit?

--The Cahorn affair, declared Ganimard, without detour.

--Hold! one second... It's that I have so many affairs! Let me first find the Cahorn file in my brain... Ah! there, I have it. Cahorn affair, Malaquis castle, Seine-Inférieure... Two Rubens, a Watteau, and a few minor objects.

--Minor!

--Oh! faith, all that is of mediocre importance. There is better! But it suffices that the affair interests you... Do speak, Ganimard.

--Should I explain to you where we stand with the investigation?

--Useless. I read this morning's papers. I shall even permit myself to tell you that you are not advancing quickly.

--It is precisely why I appeal to your obligingness.

--Entirely at your orders.

--First this: the affair was indeed conducted by you?

--From A to Z.

--The warning letter? the telegram?

--Are from your servant. I must even have the receipts somewhere.

Arsène opened the drawer of a small whitewood table which, with the bed and the stool, made up all the furniture of his cell, took from it two scraps of paper and handed them to Ganimard.

--Ah! but, cried the latter, I thought you were kept under close guard and searched for a yes or a no. Yet you read the papers, you collect post receipts...

--Bah! those people are so stupid! They unstitch the lining of my jacket, they explore the soles of my boots, they sound the walls of this room, but not one would have the idea that Arsène Lupin is foolish enough to choose a hiding-place so easy. It is precisely on that I counted.

Ganimard, amused, exclaimed:

--What a queer fellow you are! You disconcert me. Come, tell me the adventure.

--Oh! oh! the way you go at it! To initiate you into all my secrets... to unveil my little tricks... It's quite serious.

--Was I wrong to count on your complaisance?

--No, Ganimard, and since you insist...

Arsène Lupin paced his room two or three times, then stopping:

--What do you think of my letter to the baron?

--I think you wanted to amuse yourself, to impress the gallery a bit.

--Ah! there it is, impress the gallery! Well, I assure you, Ganimard, I thought you stronger than that. Do I dally with such childishness, I, Arsène Lupin! Would I have written that letter if I could have robbed the baron without writing him? But understand, you and the others, that this letter is the indispensable starting point, the spring that set the whole machine in motion. Come, let us proceed in order, and prepare together, if you will, the burglary of the Malaquis.

--I'm listening.

--So, suppose a castle rigorously closed, barricaded, as was that of Baron Cahorn. Am I to abandon the game and renounce treasures I covet, on the pretext that the castle containing them is inaccessible?

--Evidently not.

--Am I to attempt the assault as in former times, at the head of a troop of adventurers?

--Childish!

--Am I to introduce myself there sneakingly?

--Impossible.

--There remains one means, the only one in my view, which is to have myself invited by the owner of said castle.

--The means is original.

--And how easy! Suppose that one day, the said owner receives a letter, warning him of what is being plotted against him by one Arsène Lupin, a reputed burglar. What will he do?

--He will send the letter to the prosecutor.

--Who will laugh at him, _since the said Lupin is currently behind bars_. Therefore, panic of the good man, who is quite ready to beg the first comer for help, is he not?

--That is beyond doubt.

--And if he happens to read in a rag that a famous policeman is vacationing in the neighboring locality...

--He will go address himself to that policeman.

--You said it. But, on the other hand, let us admit that in anticipation of this inevitable step, Arsène Lupin asked one of his most skillful friends to install himself at Caudebec, to enter into relations with a reporter of the _Réveil_, _a newspaper to which the baron subscribes_, to let it be understood that he is such-and-such, the famous policeman, what will happen?

--Why, the reporter will announce in the _Réveil_ the presence at Caudebec of the said policeman.

--Perfect, and one of two things: either the fish--I mean Cahorn--doesn't bite at the hook, and then nothing happens. Or else, and this is the most likely hypothesis, he comes running, all a-flutter. And there is my Cahorn imploring against me the assistance of one of my friends!

--More and more original.

--Of course, the pseudo-policeman first refuses his help. Thereupon, dispatch from Arsène Lupin. Dismay of the baron who again begs my friend, and offers him so much to watch over his safety. Said friend accepts, brings two stout fellows of our band, who, at night, while Cahorn is kept under guard by his protector, move out through the window a certain number of objects and let them slide, by means of ropes, into a good little boat chartered _ad hoc_. It's as simple as Lupin.

--And it's downright marvelous, cried Ganimard, and I cannot sufficiently praise the boldness of the conception and the ingenuity of the details. But I don't see any policeman famous enough that his name could have attracted, suggested to the baron to this point.

--There is one, and only one.

--Which?

--That of the most illustrious, of the personal enemy of Arsène Lupin, in short, of Inspector Ganimard.

--Me!

--Yourself, Ganimard. And that is what is delicious: if you go there and the baron decides to talk, you will end up discovering that your duty is to arrest yourself, as you arrested me in America. Eh! the revenge is comical: I have Ganimard arrested by Ganimard!

Arsène Lupin laughed heartily. The inspector, rather vexed, bit his lips. The joke did not seem to him to merit such fits of joy.

The arrival of a guard gave him leisure to recover. The man brought the meal that Arsène Lupin, by special favor, had sent from the neighboring restaurant. Having set the tray on the table, he withdrew. Arsène settled in, broke his bread, ate two or three mouthfuls and resumed:

--But, rest easy, my dear Ganimard, you won't go there. I am going to reveal something that will stupefy you: the Cahorn affair is about to be closed.

--Eh!

--About to be closed, I tell you.

--Nonsense, I just left the head of the Sûreté.

--And after? Does M. Dudouis know more than I about what concerns me? You will learn that Ganimard--excuse me--that the pseudo-Ganimard remained on very good terms with the baron. The latter, and this is the principal reason he has confessed nothing, charged him with the very delicate mission of negotiating with me a transaction, and, at the present hour, for a certain sum, it is probable that the baron has recovered his dear knick-knacks. In return for which, he will withdraw his complaint. Therefore, no more theft. Therefore the prosecutor's office will have to abandon...

Ganimard regarded the prisoner with a stupefied air.

--And how do you know all this?

--I have just received the dispatch I was expecting.

--You have just received a dispatch?

--This instant, dear friend. Out of politeness, I did not wish to read it in your presence. But if you authorize me...

--You're mocking me, Lupin.

--Be so good, my dear friend, as to gently decapitate this soft-boiled egg. You will ascertain for yourself that I am not mocking you.

Mechanically Ganimard obeyed, and cracked the egg with the blade of a knife. A cry of surprise escaped him. The shell, empty, contained a sheet of blue paper. At Arsène's request, he unfolded it. It was a telegram, or rather a part of a telegram from which the post-office indications had been torn. He read:

«Deal concluded. Hundred thousand bucks delivered. All is well.»

--Hundred thousand bucks? said he.

--Yes, a hundred thousand francs! It's little, but after all times are hard... And I have such heavy general expenses! If you knew my budget... a budget of a great city!

Ganimard rose. His ill humor had dissipated. He reflected a few seconds, took in the whole affair at a glance, to try to discover its weak point. Then he pronounced in a tone where he frankly let show his admiration as a connoisseur:

--Luckily there aren't dozens like you, or else there'd be nothing left but to close shop.

Arsène Lupin put on a modest little air and answered:

--Bah! one had to amuse oneself, occupy one's leisure... all the more since the coup could only succeed if I was in prison.

--What! exclaimed Ganimard, your trial, your defense, the investigation, all that isn't enough to amuse you?

--No, for I have resolved not to attend my trial.

--Oh! oh!

Arsène Lupin repeated calmly:

--I shall not attend my trial.

--Indeed!

--Ah! now, my dear fellow, do you imagine I'm going to rot on the damp straw? You insult me. Arsène Lupin stays in prison only as long as pleases him, and not a minute longer.

--It might have been more prudent to begin by not entering, objected the inspector in an ironic tone.

--Ah! monsieur raillies? monsieur remembers he had the honor of effecting my arrest? Know, my respectable friend, that no one, no more you than another, could have laid hands on me, if a far more considerable interest had not solicited me at that critical moment.

--You astonish me.

--A woman was looking at me, Ganimard, and I loved her. Do you understand all there is in this fact of being looked at by a woman one loves? The rest mattered little to me, I swear to you. And that is why I am here.

--For a very long time, permit me to remark.

--I wanted to forget first. Don't laugh: the adventure had been charming, and I still keep the tender memory of it... And then, I am somewhat neurasthenic! Life is so feverish nowadays! One must know, at certain moments, to do what is called a cure of isolation. This place is sovereign for regimens of that kind. Here one practices the cure of Santé in all its rigor.

--Arsène Lupin, observed Ganimard, you're having me on.

--Ganimard, affirmed Lupin, today is Friday. Next Wednesday, I will come smoke my cigar at your place, rue Pergolèse, at four in the afternoon.

--Arsène Lupin, I await you.

They shook hands like two good friends who esteem each other at their true worth, and the old policeman headed toward the door.

--Ganimard!

The latter turned around.

--What is it?

--Ganimard, you're forgetting your watch.

--My watch?

--Yes, it strayed into my pocket.

He returned it with apologies.

--Forgive me... a bad habit... But it's no reason that, because they took mine, I should deprive you of yours. All the more that I have here a chronometer I've no cause to complain of, and which fully satisfies my needs.

He took from the drawer a large gold watch, thick and comfortable, adorned with a heavy chain.

--And this one, from whose pocket does it come? asked Ganimard.

Arsène Lupin examined the initials negligently.

--J. B... Who the devil can that be?... Ah! yes, I remember, Jules Bouvier, my examining magistrate, a charming man...

------

THE ESCAPE OF ARSÈNE LUPIN

At the moment when Arsène Lupin, his meal finished, drew from his pocket a fine cigar banded with gold and examined it with complacency, the cell door opened. He had only time to throw it into the drawer and move away from the table. The guard entered, it was the hour for the walk.

--I was expecting you, my dear friend, cried Lupin, ever in good humor.

They went out. They had barely disappeared around the corner of the corridor when two men in turn entered the cell and began its minute examination. One was Inspector Dieuzy, the other Inspector Folenfant.

They wanted to end it. There was no doubt: Arsène Lupin kept contacts with the outside and communicated with his henchmen. The day before, the _Grand Journal_ had published these lines addressed to its court reporter:

"Monsieur,

"In an article appearing these last days you expressed yourself on my subject in terms that nothing could justify. A few days before the opening of my trial, I shall come ask you for an account.

"Distinguished salutations,

"ARSÈNE LUPIN."

The handwriting was indeed Arsène Lupin's. Therefore he was sending letters. Therefore he was receiving them. Therefore it was certain he was preparing this escape announced by him in so arrogant a fashion.

The situation had become intolerable. In agreement with the examining magistrate, the head of the Sûreté M. Dudouis went himself to La Santé to explain to the prison director the measures that ought to be taken. And, upon his arrival, he sent two of his men into the detainee's cell.

They lifted each flagstone, took apart the bed, did all that is habitual to do in such a case, and finally discovered nothing. They were about to renounce their investigation, when the guard hurried in and said to them:

“Stories of the world, in your language.”