The Crystal Stopper. Leblanc Maurice
it, went back to his friends to give them their instructions and sat down near the couple.
During the entr’acte, when the lights went up, he perceived Daubrecq’s profile. The lady remained at the back of the box, invisible. The two were speaking in a low voice; and, when the curtain rose again, they went on speaking, but in such a way that Lupin could not distinguish a word.
Ten minutes passed. Some one tapped at their door. It was one of the men from the box-office.
“Are you M. le Depute Daubrecq, sir?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Daubrecq, in a voice of surprise. “But how do you know my name?”
“There’s a gentleman asking for you on the telephone. He told me to go to Box 22.”
“But who is it?”
“M. le Marquis d’Albufex.”
“Eh?”
“What am I to say, sir?”
“I’m coming… I’m coming…”
Daubrecq rose hurriedly from his seat and followed the clerk to the box-office.
He was not yet out of sight when Lupin sprang from his box, worked the lock of the next door and sat down beside the lady.
She gave a stifled cry.
“Hush!” he said. “I have to speak to you. It is most important.”
“Ah!” she said, between her teeth. “Arsene Lupin!” He was dumbfounded. For a moment he sat quiet, open-mouthed. The woman knew him! And not only did she know him, but she had recognized him through his disguise! Accustomed though he was to the most extraordinary and unusual events, this disconcerted him.
He did not even dream of protesting and stammered:
“So you know?… So you know?…”
He snatched at the lady’s veil and pulled it aside before she had time to defend herself:
“What!” he muttered, with increased amazement. “Is it possible?”
It was the woman whom he had seen at Daubrecq’s a few days earlier, the woman who had raised her dagger against Daubrecq and who had intended to stab him with all the strength of her hatred.
It was her turn to be taken aback:
“What! Have you seen me before?…”
“Yes, the other night, at his house… I saw what you tried to do…”
She made a movement to escape. He held her back and, speaking with great eagerness:
“I must know who you are,” he said. “That was why I had Daubrecq telephoned for.”
She looked aghast:
“Do you mean to say it was not the Marquis d’Albufex?”
“No, it was one of my assistants.”
“Then Daubrecq will come back?…”
“Yes, but we have time… Listen to me… We must meet again… He is your enemy… I will save you from him…”
“Why should you? What is your object?”
“Do not distrust me… it is quite certain that our interests are identical… Where can I see you? To-morrow, surely? At what time? And where?”
“Well…”
She looked at him with obvious hesitation, not knowing what to do, on the point of speaking and yet full of uneasiness and doubt.
He pressed her:
“Oh, I entreat you… answer me just one word… and at once… It would be a pity for him to find me here… I entreat you…”
She answered sharply:
“My name doesn’t matter… We will see each other first and you shall explain to me… Yes, we will meet… Listen, to-morrow, at three o’clock, at the corner of the Boulevard…”
At that exact moment, the door of the box opened, so to speak, with a bang, and Daubrecq appeared.
“Rats!” Lupin mumbled, under his breath, furious at being caught before obtaining what he wanted.
Daubrecq gave a chuckle:
“So that’s it… I thought something was up… Ah, the telephone-trick: a little out of date, sir! I had not gone half-way when I turned back.”
He pushed Lupin to the front of the box and, sitting down beside the lady, said:
“And, now my lord, who are we? A servant at the police-office, probably? There’s a professional look about that mug of yours.”
He stared hard at Lupin, who did not move a muscle, and tried to put a name to the face, but failed to recognize the man whom he had called Polonius.
Lupin, without taking his eyes from Daubrecq either, reflected. He would not for anything in the world have thrown up the game at that point or neglected this favourable opportunity of coming to an understanding with his mortal enemy.
The woman sat in her corner, motionless, and watched them both.
Lupin said:
“Let us go outside, sir. That will make our interview easier.”
“No, my lord, here,” grinned the deputy. “It will take place here, presently, during the entr’acte. Then we shall not be disturbing anybody.”
“But…”
“Save your breath, my man; you sha’n’t budge.”
And he took Lupin by the coat-collar, with the obvious intention of not letting go of him before the interval.
A rash move! Was it likely that Lupin would consent to remain in such an attitude, especially before a woman, a woman to whom he had offered his alliance, a woman—and he now thought of it for the first time—who was distinctly good-looking and whose grave beauty attracted him. His whole pride as a man rose at the thought.
However, he said nothing. He accepted the heavy weight of the hand on his shoulder and even sat bent in two, as though beaten, powerless, almost frightened.
“Eh, clever!” said the deputy, scoffingly. “We don’t seem to be swaggering quite so much.”
The stage was full of actors who were arguing and making a noise.
Daubrecq had loosened his grasp slightly and Lupin felt that the moment had come. With the edge of his hand, he gave him a violent blow in the hollow of the arm, as he might have done with a hatchet.
The pain took Daubrecq off his guard. Lupin now released himself entirely and sprang at the other to clutch him by the throat. But Daubrecq had at once put himself on the defensive and stepped back and their four hands seized one another.
They gripped with superhuman energy, the whole force of the two adversaries concentrating in those hands. Daubrecq’s were of monstrous size; and Lupin, caught in that iron vise, felt as though he were fighting not with a man, but with some terrible beast, a huge gorilla.
They held each other against the door, bending low, like a pair of wrestlers groping and trying to lay hold of each other. Their bones creaked. Whichever gave way first was bound to be caught by the throat and strangled. And all this happened amid a sudden silence, for the actors on the stage were now listening to one of their number, who was speaking in a low voice.
The woman stood back flat against the partition, looking at them in terror. Had she taken sides with either of them, with a single movement, the victory would at once have been decided in that one’s favour. But which of them should she assist? What could Lupin represent in her eyes? A friend? An enemy?
She briskly made for the front of the box, forced back the screen and, leaning forward, seemed to give a signal. Then she returned and tried to slip to the door.
Lupin, as though wishing to help her, said:
“Why don’t you move the chair?”
He