Part 4

--The drawer... look at the table drawer. When I came in, it seemed to me he was pushing it shut.

They looked, and Dieuzy cried out:

--By God, this time we've got him, the fellow.

Folenfant stopped him.

--Hold on there, my lad, the chief will take inventory.

--And yet, that luxury cigar...

--Leave the Havana alone, and let's notify the chief.

Two minutes later, Mr. Dudouis was exploring the drawer. He found first a bundle of newspaper clippings cut out by the _Argus de la Presse_ and concerning Arsène Lupin, then a tobacco pouch, a pipe, some paper known as onion skin, and finally two books.

He looked at the titles. They were Carlyle's _On Heroes_, English edition, and a charming elzevir, bound in the old style, the _Manual of Epictetus_, German translation published at Leiden in 1634. Having leafed through them, he noted that all the pages were scored, underlined, annotated. Were these conventional signs, or merely those marks that show the fervor one has for a book?

--We will look into that in detail, said Mr. Dudouis.

He explored the tobacco pouch, the pipe. Then, seizing the famous gold-banded cigar:

--Zounds, our friend lives well, he exclaimed, a Henri Clet!

With the mechanical gesture of a smoker, he raised it to his ear and cracked it. And at once an exclamation escaped him. The cigar had softened under the pressure of his fingers. He examined it more closely and soon made out something white between the tobacco leaves. And delicately, using a pin, he drew out a roll of very fine paper, scarce thicker than a toothpick. It was a note. He unrolled it and read these words, in a small woman's hand:

"The basket has taken the place of the other. Eight out of ten are prepared. By pressing with the outer foot, the plate lifts from top to bottom. From twelve to sixteen every day, H-P will wait. But where? Immediate reply. Rest assured, your friend watches over you."

Mr. Dudouis reflected a moment and said:

--That is clear enough... the basket... the eight compartments... From twelve to sixteen, that is to say from noon to four o'clock...

--But this H-P, who will wait?

--H-P in this case must mean automobile, H-P, horse power, is it not thus that in sporting language one designates the power of an engine? A twenty-four H-P is an automobile of twenty-four horsepower.

He stood up and asked:

--The prisoner had just finished lunch?

--Yes.

--And since he has not yet read this message, as the state of the cigar proves, it is likely he had just received it.

--How?

--In his food, in the middle of his bread or a potato, who knows?

--Impossible, he was only authorized to have his food brought in to trap him, and we found nothing.

--We will search this evening for Lupin's reply. For the moment, keep him out of his cell. I am going to take this to the examining magistrate. If he agrees with me, we will immediately have the letter photographed, and within an hour you may put back in the drawer, along with these objects, an identical cigar containing the original message itself. The prisoner must suspect nothing.

It was not without a certain curiosity that Mr. Dudouis returned that evening to the registry of La Santé in the company of Inspector Dieuzy. In a corner, on the stove, three plates lay spread out.

--Has he eaten?

--Yes, answered the governor.

--Dieuzy, please cut these few strands of macaroni into very thin pieces and open this bread roll... Nothing?

--No, chief.

Mr. Dudouis examined the plates, the fork, the spoon, and finally the knife, a regulation knife with a round blade. He turned the handle to the left, then to the right. To the right the handle gave way and unscrewed. The knife was hollow and served as a case for a sheet of paper.

--Pah! said he, that is not very clever for a man like Arsène. But let us lose no time. You, Dieuzy, go and make inquiries at that restaurant.

Then he read:

"I leave it to you, H-P will follow from afar, each day. I will come to meet you. Soon, dear and admirable friend."

--At last, cried Mr. Dudouis, rubbing his hands, I believe the affair is on the right track. A little push on our part, and the escape succeeds... enough at least to let us nab the accomplices.

--And if Arsène Lupin slips through your fingers? objected the governor.

--We will employ the necessary number of men. If, however, he shows too much skill... well, so much the worse for him! As for the gang, since the chief refuses to talk, the others will talk.

* * *

And indeed, he did not talk much, Arsène Lupin. For months Mr. Jules Bouvier, the examining magistrate, had vainly exerted himself at it. The interrogations were reduced to pointless colloquies between the magistrate and counsel Maître Danval, one of the princes of the bar, who moreover knew about as much of the accused as the first comer.

From time to time, out of politeness, Arsène Lupin would let fall:

--But yes, Monsieur le juge, we are in agreement: the theft from the Crédit Lyonnais, the theft on the rue de Babylone, the issuing of counterfeit banknotes, the insurance fraud affair, the burglaries of the châteaux of Armesnil, of Gouret, of Imblevain, of the Groseillers, of the Malaquis, all that is your servant.

--Then, could you explain to me...

--Useless, I confess it all in bulk, all and even ten times more than you suppose.

Weary of the war, the magistrate had suspended these tedious interrogations. After being made aware of the two intercepted notes, he resumed them. And, regularly, at noon, Arsène Lupin was brought, from La Santé to the Dépôt, in the prison van, with a certain number of prisoners. They returned toward three or four o'clock.

Now, one afternoon, this return took place under particular conditions. The other prisoners of La Santé not yet having been questioned, it was decided to take Arsène Lupin back first. He therefore got into the van alone.

These prison vans, vulgarly called "salad baskets," are divided along their length by a central corridor onto which open ten compartments, five on the right and five on the left. Each of these compartments is arranged so that one must sit in it, and the five prisoners, consequently, sit one atop the other, while being separated from one another by parallel partitions. A municipal guard, placed at the end, watches the corridor.

Arsène was put into the third cell on the right, and the heavy van set off. He realized that they were leaving the quai de l'Horloge and passing in front of the Palais de Justice. Then, around the middle of the Pont Saint-Michel, he pressed, with his outer foot, that is to say his right foot, as he did each time, on the sheet-metal plate that closed his cell. At once something triggered, and the sheet-metal plate moved aside imperceptibly. He could see that he was exactly between the two wheels.

He waited, eye on the alert. The van climbed the boulevard Saint-Michel at a walk. At the carrefour Saint-Germain, it stopped. A cart horse had fallen. Traffic being interrupted, very quickly there was a jam of cabs and omnibuses.

Arsène Lupin put his head out. Another prison van stood alongside the one he occupied. He lifted the metal further, set his foot on one of the spokes of the great wheel, and jumped to the ground.

A coachman saw him, burst out laughing, then tried to call out. But his voice was lost in the clamor of vehicles now flowing again. Besides, Arsène Lupin was already far away.

He had run a few steps; but on the left sidewalk, he turned around, cast a circular glance, seemed to take the wind, like someone who does not yet know too well what direction he will follow. Then, resolved, he put his hands in his pockets, and with the careless air of a stroller sauntering, he continued up the boulevard.

The weather was mild, a happy and light autumn time. The cafés were full. He sat down at the terrace of one of them.

He ordered a bock and a packet of cigarettes. He emptied his glass in little sips, tranquilly smoked a cigarette, lit a second. At last, having risen, he asked the waiter to call the manager.

The manager came, and Arsène said to him, loud enough to be heard by all:

--I am sorry, Monsieur, I have forgotten my purse. Perhaps my name is well enough known to you that you will grant me a credit of a few days: Arsène Lupin.

The manager looked at him, thinking it a joke. But Arsène repeated:

--Lupin, detained at La Santé, currently in a state of escape. I dare believe that name inspires full confidence in you.

And he walked away, amid laughter, without the other thinking to demand payment.

He crossed the rue Soufflot diagonally and took the rue Saint-Jacques. He followed it peacefully, stopping at shop windows and smoking cigarettes. Boulevard de Port-Royal, he oriented himself, inquired, and walked straight toward the rue de la Santé. The high morose walls of the prison soon rose up. Having walked along them, he arrived near the municipal guard who was mounting guard, and removing his hat:

--Is this indeed the prison of La Santé?

--Yes.

--I should like to regain my cell. The van left me on the road and I would not wish to abuse...

The guard grumbled:

--Here now, man, be on your way, and quicker than that.

--Pardon, pardon, it is just that my way passes through this door. And if you prevent Arsène Lupin from crossing it, that could cost you dear, my friend.

--Arsène Lupin! what are you singing to me!

--I regret not having my card, said Arsène, affecting to search his pockets.

The guard eyed him from head to foot, dumbfounded. Then, without a word, as if in spite of himself, he pulled a bell. The iron door half opened.

A few minutes later, the governor hurried to the registry, gesticulating and feigning violent anger. Arsène smiled:

--Come now, Monsieur le directeur, do not try to outwit me. What! one takes the precaution of bringing me back alone in the van, one prepares a nice little traffic jam, and one imagines I am going to take to my heels to rejoin my friends. Well, and the twenty agents of the Sûreté who escorted us on foot, in cabs and on bicycles? No, what they would have done to me! I would not have come out alive. I say, Monsieur le directeur, is that perhaps what was counted on?

He shrugged his shoulders and added:

--I beg you, Monsieur le directeur, do not concern yourself with me. The day I wish to escape, I shall need no one.

The day after next, the _Écho de France_, which was becoming decidedly the official monitor of the exploits of Arsène Lupin--it was said he was one of its principal backers--the _Écho de France_ published the most complete details on this escape attempt. The very text of the notes exchanged between the prisoner and his mysterious friend, the means employed for this correspondence, the complicity of the police, the walk on the boulevard Saint-Michel, the incident of the café Soufflot, all was revealed. It was known that Inspector Dieuzy's inquiries among the waiters of the restaurant had yielded no result. And one learned furthermore this stupefying thing, which showed the infinite variety of resources this man disposed of: the prison van in which he had been transported was an entirely rigged van, which his gang had substituted for one of the six usual vans that compose the prison service.

The imminent escape of Arsène Lupin was doubted by no one. He himself moreover announced it in categorical terms, as proved his reply to Mr. Bouvier, the day after the incident. The magistrate railing at his failure, he looked at him and said coldly:

--Listen well to this, Monsieur, and take my word for it: this escape attempt was part of my escape plan.

--I do not understand, sneered the magistrate.

--It is useless that you understand.

And as the magistrate, during this interrogation which appeared at length in the columns of the _Écho de France_, as the magistrate returned to his examination, he cried with an air of weariness:

--My God, my God, what is the use! all these questions are of no importance!

--How, of no importance?

--But no, since I shall not attend my trial.

--You shall not attend...

--No, it is a fixed idea, an irrevocable decision. Nothing will make me compromise.

Such assurance, the inexplicable indiscretions that were committed each day, irritated and disconcerted justice. There were secrets there that Arsène Lupin alone knew, and whose disclosure therefore could only come from him. But to what end did he reveal them? and how?

They changed Arsène Lupin's cell. One evening, he went down to the lower floor. For his part, the magistrate closed his examination and referred the case to the indictments chamber.

There was silence. It lasted two months. Arsène spent them stretched on his bed, his face almost always turned to the wall. This change of cell seemed to have crushed him. He refused to receive his lawyer. He barely exchanged a few words with his guards.

In the fortnight before his trial, he seemed to revive. He complained of lack of air. He was taken out into the yard, in the morning, very early, flanked by two men.

Public curiosity, however, had not weakened. Each day one had awaited news of his escape. One almost wished for it, so much did the figure please the crowd with his verve, his gaiety, his diversity, his inventive genius and the mystery of his life. Arsène Lupin was to escape. It was inevitable, fatal. One was even astonished that it took so long. Every morning the Prefect of Police asked his secretary:

--Well, has he not gone yet?

--No, Monsieur le Préfet.

--Then it will be tomorrow.

And, on the eve of the trial, a gentleman presented himself at the offices of the _Grand Journal_, asked for the court correspondent, threw his card in his face, and withdrew rapidly. On the card, these words were written: "Arsène Lupin always keeps his promises."

* * *

It was under these conditions that the proceedings opened.

The attendance was enormous. No one but wished to see the famous Arsène Lupin and savored in advance the way he would make sport of the president. Lawyers and magistrates, chroniclers and society people, artists and society women, all Paris crowded the benches of the courtroom.

It was raining, outside the day was dark, one saw Arsène Lupin poorly when the guards had brought him in. However his heavy attitude, the way he let himself fall into his place, his indifferent and passive immobility, did not predispose in his favor. Several times his lawyer--one of Me Danval's secretaries, the latter having judged unworthy of him the role to which he was reduced--several times his lawyer addressed him. He shook his head and was silent.

The clerk read the indictment, then the president pronounced:

--Accused, stand up. Your name, first name, age and profession?

Receiving no reply, he repeated:

--Your name? I ask you your name?

A thick and tired voice articulated:

--Baudru, Désiré.

There were murmurs. But the president went on:

--Baudru, Désiré? Ah! good, a new avatar! Since this is about the eighth name you claim, and it is no doubt as imaginary as the others, we shall keep, if you please, to that of Arsène Lupin, under which you are more advantageously known.

The president consulted his notes and resumed:

--For, despite all inquiries, it has been impossible to reconstruct your identity. You present this rather original case in our modern society of having no past. We do not know who you are, where you come from, where your childhood was spent, in short, nothing. You spring forth all at once, three years ago, no one knows exactly from what milieu, to reveal yourself all at once as Arsène Lupin, that is to say a bizarre compound of intelligence and perversion, of immorality and generosity. The data we have on you before this period are rather suppositions. It is probable that the named Rostat who worked, eight years ago, alongside the conjurer Dickson was none other than Arsène Lupin. It is probable that the Russian student who attended, six years ago, the laboratory of Dr. Altier, at the Saint-Louis hospital, and who often surprised the master by the ingenuity of his hypotheses on bacteriology and the boldness of his experiments in skin diseases, was none other than Arsène Lupin. Arsène Lupin also, the teacher of Japanese wrestling who established himself in Paris long before ju-jitsu was spoken of there. Arsène Lupin, we believe, the cyclist who won the Grand Prix of the Exhibition, collected his 10,000 francs and was seen no more. Arsène Lupin perhaps also he who saved so many people by the small dormer of the Bazar de la Charité... and robbed them.

And, after a pause, the president concluded:

--Such is that period, which seems to have been but a minute preparation for the struggle you undertook against society, a methodical apprenticeship where you carried to the highest point your strength, your energy and your skill. Do you recognize the accuracy of these facts?

During this speech, the accused had rocked from one leg to the other, his back rounded, his arms inert. Under the brighter light, one noticed his extreme thinness, his hollow cheeks, his strangely prominent cheekbones, his earth-colored face, marbled with small red patches, and framed by an uneven and sparse beard. Prison had considerably aged and withered him. One no longer recognized the elegant silhouette and the young face whose sympathetic portrait the newspapers had so often published.

One would have said he had not heard the question put to him. Twice it was repeated. Then he raised his eyes, seemed to reflect, then, making a violent effort, murmured:

--Baudru, Désiré.

The president began to laugh.

--I do not form an exact account of the defense system you have adopted, Arsène Lupin. If it is to play the imbecile and the irresponsible, free to you. As for me, I shall go straight to the point without concerning myself with your fancies.

And he entered into the detail of the thefts, swindles and forgeries imputed to Lupin. Sometimes he questioned the accused. The latter uttered a grunt or did not reply.

The parade of witnesses began. There were several insignificant depositions, others more serious, which all had this common character of contradicting one another. A troubling obscurity enveloped the proceedings, but Inspector Principal Ganimard was introduced, and interest awoke.

From the start, however, the old policeman caused a certain disappointment. He had the air, not intimidated--he had seen far worse--but worried, ill at ease. Several times, he turned his eyes toward the accused with visible discomfort. Nevertheless, both hands on the rail, he recounted the incidents in which he had been involved, his pursuit across Europe, his arrival in America. And one listened to him with avidity, as one would listen to the tale of the most passionate adventures. But, toward the end, having alluded to his interviews with Arsène Lupin, twice he stopped, distracted, hesitant.

It was clear that another thought obsessed him. The president said to him:

--If you are unwell, it would be better to interrupt your testimony.

--No, no, only...

He fell silent, looked at the accused long, deeply, then he said:

--I ask permission to examine the accused more closely. There is a mystery here that I must clear up.

He approached, considered him even longer, with all his attention concentrated, then he returned to the rail. And there, in a somewhat solemn tone, he pronounced:

--Mr. President, I affirm that the man who is here, facing me, is not Arsène Lupin.

A great silence greeted these words. The president, at first nonplussed, cried:

--Ah! here, what are you saying! you are mad.

The inspector affirmed calmly:

--At first glance, one may be taken in by a resemblance, which does exist in fact, I admit, but a second of attention suffices. The nose, the mouth, the hair, the color of the skin... in short: it is not Arsène Lupin. And the eyes then! did he ever have those alcoholic's eyes?

--Come, come, let us explain. What do you claim, witness?

--How should I know! He will have put in his place a poor devil who was about to be condemned in his place... Unless it is an accomplice.

Cries, laughter, exclamations broke out from all sides in the hall agitated by this unexpected theatrical turn. The president had the examining magistrate, the governor of La Santé, the guards summoned, and suspended the session.

At the resumption, Mr. Bouvier and the governor, placed face to face with the accused, declared that there was between Arsène Lupin and this man only a very vague similarity of features.

--But then, cried the president, who is this man? Where does he come from? how does he find himself in the hands of justice?

The two guards of La Santé were introduced. Stupendous contradiction, they recognized the prisoner whose surveillance they had in turn! The president breathed.

But one of the guards resumed:

--Yes, yes, I believe it is him.

--How, you believe?

--Lord, I have scarcely seen him. He was handed to me in the evening, and for two months he has stayed always lying against the wall.

--But, before those two months?

--Ah! before, he did not occupy cell 24.

The prison governor specified this point:

--We changed the prisoner's cell after his escape attempt.

--But you, Monsieur le directeur, you have seen him these two months?

--I have not had occasion to see him... he kept quiet.

--And that man there is not the prisoner who was handed to you?

--No.

--Then, who is he?

--I could not say.

--We are therefore in presence of a substitution that would have taken place two months ago. How do you explain it?

--It is impossible.

--Then?

In desperation, the president turned toward the accused and, in a coaxing voice:

--Come now, accused, could you explain to me how and since when you are in the hands of justice?

One would have said this kindly tone disarmed the man's mistrust or stimulated his understanding. He tried to reply. At last, skillfully and gently questioned, he managed to gather a few phrases, from which this emerged: two months earlier, he had been brought to the Dépôt. He had spent there a night and a morning. Possessor of a sum of seventy-five centimes, he had been released. But, as he crossed the yard, two guards took him by the arm and led him to the prison van. Since then, he had lived in cell 24, not unhappy... one eats well there... one sleeps not badly... He had therefore not protested...

All this seemed plausible. Amid laughter and great ferment, the president referred the case to another session for supplementary inquiry.

* * *

The inquiry, right away, established this fact recorded in the register of commitments: eight weeks before, a certain Baudru Désiré had slept at the Dépôt. Released the next day, he left the Dépôt at two in the afternoon. Now, that day, at two o'clock, having been questioned for the last time, Arsène Lupin left the examination and set off again in the prison van.

Had the guards committed an error? Deceived by the resemblance, had they themselves, in a moment of inattention, substituted this man for their prisoner? It would indeed have required a complaisance that their service records did not permit one to suppose.

Was the substitution combined in advance? Apart from the fact that the layout of the place made the thing almost unrealizable, it would in that case have been necessary that Baudru be an accomplice, and that he had himself arrested for the precise purpose of taking Arsène Lupin's place. But then, by what miracle could such a plan, founded solely on a series of improbable chances, of fortuitous encounters and fabulous errors, have succeeded?

“Stories of the world, in your language.”