The Arsene Lupin MEGAPACK ®. Морис Леблан
his hand towards the window.
“Yes; I’ve found plenty of traces,” said Guerchard.
“Of Lupin?” said M. Formery, with a faint sneer.
“No; not of Lupin,” said Guerchard.
A smile of warm satisfaction illumined M. Formery’s face:
“What did I tell you?” he said. “I’m glad that you’ve changed your mind about that.”
“I have hardly changed my mind,” said Guerchard, in his husky, gentle voice.
There came a loud knocking on the front door, the sound of excited voices on the stairs. The door opened, and in burst M. Gournay-Martin. He took one glance round the devastated room, raised his clenched hands towards the ceiling, and bellowed, “The scoundrels! the dirty scoundrels!” And his voice stuck in his throat. He tottered across the room to a couch, dropped heavily to it, gazed round the scene of desolation, and burst into tears.
Germaine and Sonia came into the room. The Duke stepped forward to greet them.
“Do stop crying, papa. You’re as hoarse as a crow as it is,” said Germaine impatiently. Then, turning on the Duke with a frown, she said: “I think that joke of yours about the train was simply disgraceful, Jacques. A joke’s a joke, but to send us out to the station on a night like last night, through all that heavy rain, when you knew all the time that there was no quarter-to-nine train—it was simply disgraceful.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the Duke quietly. “Wasn’t there a quarter-to-nine train?”
“Of course there wasn’t,” said Germaine. “The time-table was years old. I think it was the most senseless attempt at a joke I ever heard of.”
“It doesn’t seem to me to be a joke at all,” said the Duke quietly. “At any rate, it isn’t the kind of a joke I make—it would be detestable. I never thought to look at the date of the time-table. I keep a box of cigarettes in that drawer, and I have noticed the time-table there. Of course, it may have been lying there for years. It was stupid of me not to look at the date.”
“I said it was a mistake. I was sure that his Grace would not do anything so unkind as that,” said Sonia.
The Duke smiled at her.
“Well, all I can say is, it was very stupid of you not to look at the date,” said Germaine.
M. Gournay-Martin rose to his feet and wailed, in the most heartrending fashion: “My pictures! My wonderful pictures! Such investments! And my cabinets! My Renaissance cabinets! They can’t be replaced! They were unique! They were worth a hundred and fifty thousand francs.”
M. Formery stepped forward with an air and said, “I am distressed, M. Gournay-Martin—truly distressed by your loss. I am M. Formery, examining magistrate.”
“It is a tragedy, M. Formery—a tragedy!” groaned the millionaire.
“Do not let it upset you too much. We shall find your masterpieces—we shall find them. Only give us time,” said M. Formery in a tone of warm encouragement.
The face of the millionaire brightened a little.
“And, after all, you have the consolation, that the burglars did not get hold of the gem of your collection. They have not stolen the coronet of the Princesse de Lamballe,” said M. Formery.
“No,” said the Duke. “They have not touched this safe. It is unopened.”
“What has that got to do with it?” growled the millionaire quickly. “That safe is empty.”
“Empty…but your coronet?” cried the Duke.
“Good heavens! Then they have stolen it,” cried the millionaire hoarsely, in a panic-stricken voice.
“But they can’t have—this safe hasn’t been touched,” said the Duke.
“But the coronet never was in that safe. It was—have they entered my bedroom?” said the millionaire.
“No,” said M. Formery.
“They don’t seem to have gone through any of the rooms except these two,” said the Duke.
“Ah, then my mind is at rest about that. The safe in my bedroom has only two keys. Here is one.” He took a key from his waistcoat pocket and held it out to them. “And the other is in this safe.”
The face of M. Formery was lighted up with a splendid satisfaction. He might have rescued the coronet with his own hands. He cried triumphantly, “There, you see!”
“See? See?” cried the millionaire in a sudden bellow. “I see that they have robbed me—plundered me. Oh, my pictures! My wonderful pictures! Such investments!”
CHAPTER XII
THE THEFT OF THE PENDANT
They stood round the millionaire observing his anguish, with eyes in which shone various degrees of sympathy. As if no longer able to bear the sight of such woe, Sonia slipped out of the room.
The millionaire lamented his loss and abused the thieves by turns, but always at the top of his magnificent voice.
Suddenly a fresh idea struck him. He clapped his hand to his brow and cried: “That eight hundred pounds! Charolais will never buy the Mercrac now! He was not a bona fide purchaser!”
The Duke’s lips parted slightly and his eyes opened a trifle wider than their wont. He turned sharply on his heel, and almost sprang into the other drawing-room. There he laughed at his ease.
M. Formery kept saying to the millionaire: “Be calm, M. Gournay-Martin. Be calm! We shall recover your masterpieces. I pledge you my word. All we need is time. Have patience. Be calm!”
His soothing remonstrances at last had their effect. The millionaire grew calm:
“Guerchard?” he said. “Where is Guerchard?”
M. Formery presented Guerchard to him.
“Are you on their track? Have you a clue?” said the millionaire.
“I think,” said M. Formery in an impressive tone, “that we may now proceed with the inquiry in the ordinary way.”
He was a little piqued by the millionaire’s so readily turning from him to the detective. He went to a writing-table, set some sheets of paper before him, and prepared to make notes on the answers to his questions. The Duke came back into the drawing-room; the inspector was summoned. M. Gournay-Martin sat down on a couch with his hands on his knees and gazed gloomily at M. Formery. Germaine, who was sitting on a couch near the door, waiting with an air of resignation for her father to cease his lamentations, rose and moved to a chair nearer the writing-table. Guerchard kept moving restlessly about the room, but noiselessly. At last he came to a standstill, leaning against the wall behind M. Formery.
M. Formery went over all the matters about which he had already questioned the Duke. He questioned the millionaire and his daughter about the Charolais, the theft of the motor-cars, and the attempted theft of the pendant. He questioned them at less length about the composition of their household—the servants and their characters. He elicited no new fact.
He paused, and then he said, carelessly as a mere matter of routine: “I should like to know, M. Gournay-Martin, if there has ever been any other robbery committed at your house?”
“Three years ago this scoundrel Lupin—” the millionaire began violently.
“Yes, yes; I know all about that earlier burglary. But have you been robbed since?” said M. Formery, interrupting him.
“No, I haven’t been robbed since that burglary; but my daughter has,” said the millionaire.
“Your daughter?” said M. Formery.
“Yes; I have been robbed two or three times during