The Arsene Lupin MEGAPACK ®. Морис Леблан
and, perhaps, what he thinks. At present I have the feeling that his gaze is on my neck and shoulders, and that he is trying to remember where he has seen them before.”
He reflected a moment. I observed a malicious smile at the corner of his mouth; then, obedient, I think, to a whim of his impulsive nature, and not to the necessities of the situation, he arose, turned around, and, with a bow and a joyous air, he said:
“By what lucky chance? Ah! I am delighted to see you. Permit me to introduce a friend of mine.”
For a moment the Englishman was disconcerted; then he made a movement as if he would seize Arsène Lupin. The latter shook his head, and said:
“That would not be fair; besides, the movement would be an awkward one and…quite useless.”
The Englishman looked about him, as if in search of assistance.
“No use,” said Lupin. “Besides, are you quite sure you can place your hand on me? Come, now, show me that you are a real Englishman and, therefore, a good sport.”
This advice seemed to commend itself to the detective, for he partially rose and said, very formally:
“Monsieur Wilson, my friend and assistant—Monsieur Arsène Lupin.”
Wilson’s amazement evoked a laugh. With bulging eyes and gaping mouth, he looked from one to the other, as if unable to comprehend the situation. Sherlock Holmes laughed and said:
“Wilson, you should conceal your astonishment at an incident which is one of the most natural in the world.”
“Why do you not arrest him?” stammered Wilson.
“Have you not observed, Wilson, that the gentleman is between me and the door, and only a few steps from the door. By the time I could move my little finger he would be outside.”
“Don’t let that make any difference,” said Lupin, who now walked around the table and seated himself so that the Englishman was between him and the door—thus placing himself at the mercy of the foreigner.
Wilson looked at Holmes to find out if he had the right to admire this act of wanton courage. The Englishman’s face was impenetrable; but, a moment later, he called:
“Waiter!”
When the waiter came he ordered soda, beer and whisky. The treaty of peace was signed—until further orders. In a few moments the four men were conversing in an apparently friendly manner.
* * * *
Sherlock Holmes is a man such as you might meet every day in the business world. He is about fifty years of age, and looks as if he might have passed his life in an office, adding up columns of dull figures or writing out formal statements of business accounts. There was nothing to distinguish him from the average citizen of London, except the appearance of his eyes, his terribly keen and penetrating eyes.
But then he is Sherlock Holmes—which means that he is a wonderful combination of intuition, observation, clairvoyance and ingenuity. One could readily believe that nature had been pleased to take the two most extraordinary detectives that the imagination of man has hitherto conceived, the Dupin of Edgar Allen Poe and the Lecoq of Emile Gaboriau, and, out of that material, constructed a new detective, more extraordinary and supernatural than either of them. And when a person reads the history of his exploits, which have made him famous throughout the entire world, he asks himself whether Sherlock Holmes is not a mythical personage, a fictitious hero born in the brain of a great novelist—Conan Doyle, for instance.
When Arsène Lupin questioned him in regard to the length of his sojourn in France he turned the conversation into its proper channel by saying:
“That depends on you, monsieur.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Lupin, laughing, “if it depends on me you can return to England tonight.”
“That is a little too soon, but I expect to return in the course of eight or nine days—ten at the outside.”
“Are you in such a hurry?”
“I have many cases to attend to; such as the robbery of the Anglo-Chinese Bank, the abduction of Lady Eccleston.… But, don’t you think, Monsieur Lupin, that I can finish my business in Paris within a week?”
“Certainly, if you confine your efforts to the case of the blue diamond. It is, moreover, the length of time that I require to make preparations for my safety in case the solution of that affair should give you certain dangerous advantages over me.”
“And yet,” said the Englishman, “I expect to close the business in eight or ten days.”
“And arrest me on the eleventh, perhaps?”
“No, the tenth is my limit.”
Lupin shook his head thoughtfully, as he said:
“That will be difficult—very difficult.”
“Difficult, perhaps, but possible, therefore certain—”
“Absolutely certain,” said Wilson, as if he had clearly worked out the long series of operations which would conduct his collaborator to the desired result.
“Of course,” said Sherlock Holmes, “I do not hold all the trump cards, as these cases are already several months old, and I lack certain information and clues upon which I am accustomed to base my investigations.”
“Such as spots of mud and cigarette ashes,” said Wilson, with an air of importance.
“In addition to the remarkable conclusions formed by Monsieur Ganimard, I have obtained all the articles written on the subject, and have formed a few deductions of my own.”
“Some ideas which were suggested to us by analysis or hypothesis,” added Wilson, sententiously.
“I wish to enquire,” said Arsène Lupin, in that deferential tone which he employed in speaking to Holmes, “would I be indiscreet if I were to ask you what opinion you have formed about the case?”
Really, it was a most exciting situation to see those two men facing each other across the table, engaged in an earnest discussion as if they were obliged to solve some abstruse problem or come to an agreement upon some controverted fact. Wilson was in the seventh heaven of delight. Sherlock Holmes filled his pipe slowly, lighted it, and said:
“This affair is much simpler than it appeared to be at first sight.”
“Much simpler,” said Wilson, as a faithful echo.
“I say ‘this affair,’ for, in my opinion, there is only one,” said Holmes. “The death of the Baron d’Hautrec, the story of the ring, and, let us not forget, the mystery of lottery ticket number 514, are only different phases of what one might call the mystery of the blonde Lady. Now, according to my view, it is simply a question of discovering the bond that unites those three episodes in the same story—the fact which proves the unity of the three events. Ganimard, whose judgment is rather superficial, finds that unity in the faculty of disappearance; that is, in the power of coming and going unseen and unheard. That theory does not satisfy me.”
“Well, what is your idea?” asked Lupin.
“In my opinion,” said Holmes, “the characteristic feature of the three episodes is your design and purpose of leading the affair into a certain channel previously chosen by you. It is, on your part, more than a plan; it is a necessity, an indispensable condition of success.”
“Can you furnish any details of your theory?”
“Certainly. For example, from the beginning of your conflict with Monsieur Gerbois, is it not evident that the apartment of Monsieur Detinan is the place selected by you, the inevitable spot where all the parties must meet? In your opinion, it was the only safe place, and you arranged a rendezvous there, publicly, one might say, for the blonde Lady and Mademoiselle Gerbois.”
“The professor’s daughter,” added Wilson. “Now, let