Kitabı oku: «The Crystal Stopper», sayfa 7

He laughed, with a fierce and hateful laugh. Visibly, he saw before him, within reach of his hand, the prey which he had been hunting down so long. And Lupin also summoned up the vision of Clarisse, as he had seen her several days before, fainting, already beaten, fatally conquered, because all the hostile powers were in league against her.

He contained himself and said:

“Listen to me.”

And, when Daubrecq moved away impatiently, he took him by the two shoulders, with that superhuman strength which Daubrecq knew, from having felt it in the box at the Vaudeville, and, holding him motionless in his grip, he said:

“One last word.”

“You’re wasting your breath,” growled the deputy.

“One last word. Listen, Daubrecq: forget Mme. Mergy, give up all the nonsensical and imprudent acts which your pride and your passions are making you commit; put all that on one side and think only of your interest…”

“My interest,” said Daubrecq, jestingly, “always coincides with my pride and with what you call my passions.”

“Up to the present, perhaps. But not now, not now that I have taken a hand in the business. That constitutes a new factor, which you choose to ignore. You are wrong. Gilbert is my pal. Gilbert is my chum. Gilbert has to be saved from the scaffold. Use your influence to that end, and I swear to you, do you hear, I swear that we will leave you in peace. Gilbert’s safety, that’s all I ask. You will have no more battles to wage with Mme. Mergy, with me; there will be no more traps laid for you. You will be the master, free to act as you please. Gilbert’s safety, Daubrecq! If you refuse…”

“What then?”

“If you refuse, it will be war, relentless war; in other words, a certain defeat for you.”

“Meaning thereby…”

“Meaning thereby that I shall take the list of the Twenty-seven from you.”

“Rot! You think so, do you?”

“I swear it.”

“What Prasville and all his men, what Clarisse Mergy, what nobody has been able to do, you think that you will do!”

“I shall!”

“And why? By favour of what saint will you succeed where everybody else has failed? There must be a reason?”

“There is.”

“What is it?”

“My name is Arsene Lupin.”

He had let go of Daubrecq, but held him for a time under the dominion of his authoritative glance and will. At last, Daubrecq drew himself up, gave him a couple of sharp taps on the shoulder and, with the same calm, the same intense obstinacy, said:

“And my name’s Daubrecq. My whole life has been one desperate battle, one long series of catastrophes and routs in which I spent all my energies until victory came: complete, decisive, crushing, irrevocable victory. I have against me the police, the government, France, the world. What difference do you expect it to make to me if I have M. Arsene Lupin against me into the bargain? I will go further: the more numerous and skilful my enemies, the more cautiously I am obliged to play. And that is why, my dear sir, instead of having you arrested, as I might have done—yes, as I might have done and very easily—I let you remain at large and beg charitably to remind you that you must quit in less than three minutes.”

“Then the answer is no?”

“The answer is no.”

“You won’t do anything for Gilbert?”

“Yes, I shall continue to do what I have been doing since his arrest—that is to say, to exercise indirect influence with the minister of justice, so that the trial may be hurried on and end in the way in which I want to see it end.”

“What!” cried Lupin, beside himself with indignation. “It’s because of you, it’s for you…”

“Yes, it’s for me, Daubrecq; yes, by Jove! I have a trump card, the son’s head, and I am playing it. When I have procured a nice little death-sentence for Gilbert, when the days go by and Gilbert’s petition for a reprieve is rejected by my good offices, you shall see, M. Lupin, that his mummy will drop all her objections to calling herself Mme. Alexis Daubrecq and giving me an unexceptionable pledge of her good-will. That fortunate issue is inevitable, whether you like it or not. It is foredoomed. All I can do for you is to invite you to the wedding and the breakfast. Does that suit you? No? You persist in your sinister designs? Well, good luck, lay your traps, spread your nets, rub up your weapons and grind away at the Complete Foreign-post-paper Burglar’s Handbook. You’ll need it. And now, good-night. The rules of open-handed and disinterested hospitality demand that I should turn you out of doors. Hop it!”

Lupin remained silent for some time. With his eyes fixed on Daubrecq, he seemed to be taking his adversary’s size, gauging his weight, estimating his physical strength, discussing, in fine, in which exact part to attack him. Daubrecq clenched his fists and worked out his plan of defence to meet the attack when it came.

Half a minute passed. Lupin put his hand to his hip-pocket. Daubrecq did the same and grasped the handle of his revolver.

A few seconds more. Coolly, Lupin produced a little gold box of the kind that ladies use for holding sweets, opened it and handed it to Daubrecq:

“A lozenge?”

“What’s that?” asked the other, in surprise.

“Cough-drops.”

“What for?”

“For the draught you’re going to feel!”

And, taking advantage of the momentary fluster into which Daubrecq was thrown by his sally, he quickly took his hat and slipped away.

“Of course,” he said, as he crossed the hall, “I am knocked into fits. But all the same, that bit of commercial-traveller’s waggery was rather novel, in the circumstances. To expect a pill and receive a cough-drop is by way of being a sort of disappointment. It left the old chimpanzee quite flummoxed.”

As he closed the gate, a motor-car drove up and a man sprang out briskly, followed by several others.

Lupin recognized Prasville:

“Monsieur le secretaire-general,” he muttered, “your humble servant. I have an idea that, some day, fate will bring us face to face: and I am sorry, for your sake; for you do not inspire me with any particular esteem and you have a bad time before you, on that day. Meanwhile, if I were not in such a hurry, I should wait till you leave and I should follow Daubrecq to find out in whose charge he has placed the child whom he is going to hand back to me. But I am in a hurry. Besides, I can’t tell that Daubrecq won’t act by telephone. So let us not waste ourselves in vain efforts, but rather join Victoire, Achille and our precious bag.”

Two hours later, Lupin, after taking all his measures, was on the lookout in his shed at Neuilly and saw Daubrecq turn out of an adjoining street and walk along with a distrustful air.

Lupin himself opened the double doors:

“Your things are in here, monsieur le depute,” he said. “You can go round and look. There is a job-master’s yard next door: you have only to ask for a van and a few men. Where is the child?”

Daubrecq first inspected the articles and then took Lupin to the Avenue de Neuilly, where two closely veiled old ladies stood waiting with little Jacques.

Lupin carried the child to his car, where Victoire was waiting for him.

All this was done swiftly, without useless words and as though the parts had been got by heart and the various movements settled in advance, like so many stage entrances and exits.

At ten o’clock in the evening Lupin kept his promise and handed little Jacques to his mother. But the doctor had to be hurriedly called in, for the child, upset by all those happenings, showed great signs of excitement and terror. It was more than a fortnight before he was sufficiently recovered to bear the strain of the removal which Lupin considered necessary. Mme. Mergy herself was only just fit to travel when the time came. The journey took place at night, with every possible precaution and under Lupin’s escort.

He took the mother and son to a little seaside place in Brittany and entrusted them to Victoire’s care and vigilance.

“At last,” he reflected, when he had seen them settled, “there is no one between the Daubrecq bird and me. He can do nothing more to Mme. Mergy and the kid; and she no longer runs the risk of diverting the struggle through her intervention. By Jingo, we have made blunders enough! First, I have had to disclose myself to Daubrecq. Secondly, I have had to surrender my share of the Enghien movables. True, I shall get those back, sooner or later; of that there is not the least doubt. But, all the same, we are not getting on; and, in a week from now, Gilbert and Vaucheray will be up for trial.”

What Lupin felt most in the whole business was Daubrecq’s revelation of the whereabouts of the flat. The police had entered his place in the Rue Chateaubriand. The identity of Lupin and Michel Beaumont had been recognized and certain papers discovered; and Lupin, while pursuing his aim, while, at the same time, managing various enterprises on which he had embarked, while avoiding the searches of the police, which were becoming more zealous and persistent than ever, had to set to work and reorganize his affairs throughout on a fresh basis.

His rage with Daubrecq, therefore, increased in proportion to the worry which the deputy caused him. He had but one longing, to pocket him, as he put it, to have him at his bidding by fair means or foul, to extract his secret from him. He dreamt of tortures fit to unloose the tongue of the most silent of men. The boot, the rack, red-hot pincers, nailed planks: no form of suffering, he thought, was more than the enemy deserved; and the end to be attained justified every means.

“Oh,” he said to himself, “oh, for a decent bench of inquisitors and a couple of bold executioners!… What a time we should have!”

Every afternoon the Growler and the Masher watched the road which Daubrecq took between the Square Lamartine, the Chamber of Deputies and his club. Their instructions were to choose the most deserted street and the most favourable moment and, one evening, to hustle him into a motor-car.

Lupin, on his side, got ready an old building, standing in the middle of a large garden, not far from Paris, which presented all the necessary conditions of safety and isolation and which he called the Monkey’s Cage.

Unfortunately, Daubrecq must have suspected something, for every time, so to speak, he changed his route, or took the underground or a tram; and the cage remained unoccupied.

Lupin devised another plan. He sent to Marseilles for one of his associates, an elderly retired grocer called Brindebois, who happened to live in Daubrecq’s electoral district and interested himself in politics. Old Brindebois wrote to Daubrecq from Marseilles, announcing his visit. Daubrecq gave this important constituent a hearty welcome, and a dinner was arranged for the following week.

The elector suggested a little restaurant on the left bank of the Seine, where the food, he said, was something wonderful. Daubrecq accepted.

This was what Lupin wanted. The proprietor of the restaurant was one of his friends. The attempt, which was to take place on the following Thursday, was this time bound to succeed.

Meanwhile, on the Monday of the same week, the trial of Gilbert and Vaucheray opened.

The reader will remember—and the case took place too recently for me to recapitulate its details—the really incomprehensible partiality which the presiding judge showed in his cross-examination of Gilbert. The thing was noticed and severely criticised at the time. Lupin recognized Daubrecq’s hateful influence.

The attitude observed by the two prisoners differed greatly. Vaucheray was gloomy, silent, hard-faced. He cynically, in curt, sneering, almost defiant phrases, admitted the crimes of which he had formerly been guilty. But, with an inconsistency which puzzled everybody except Lupin, he denied any participation in the murder of Leonard the valet and violently accused Gilbert. His object, in thus linking his fate with Gilbert’s, was to force Lupin to take identical measures for the rescue of both his accomplices.

Gilbert, on the other hand, whose frank countenance and dreamy, melancholy eyes won every sympathy, was unable to protect himself against the traps laid for him by the judge or to counteract Vaucheray’s lies. He burst into tears, talked too much, or else did not talk when he should have talked. Moreover, his counsel, one of the Leaders of the bar, was taken ill at the last moment—and here again Lupin saw the hand of Daubrecq—and he was replaced by a junior who spoke badly, muddied the whole case, set the jury against him and failed to wipe out the impression produced by the speeches of the advocate-general and of Vaucheray’s counsel.

Lupin, who had the inconceivable audacity to be present on the last day of the trial, the Thursday, had no doubt as to the result. A verdict of guilty was certain in both cases.

It was certain because all the efforts of the prosecution, thus supporting Vaucheray’s tactics, had tended to link the two prisoners closely together. It was certain, also and above all, because it concerned two of Lupin’s accomplices. From the opening of the inquiry before the magistrate until the delivery of the verdict, all the proceedings had been directed against Lupin; and this in spite of the fact that the prosecution, for want of sufficient evidence and also in order not to scatter its efforts over too wide an area, had decided not to include Lupin in the indictment. He was the adversary aimed at, the leader who must be punished in the person of his friends, the famous and popular scoundrel whose fascination in the eyes of the crowd must be destroyed for good and all. With Gilbert and Vaucheray executed, Lupin’s halo would fade away and the legend would be exploded.

Lupin… Lupin… Arsene Lupin: it was the one name heard throughout the four days. The advocate-general, the presiding judge, the jury, the counsel, the witnesses had no other words on their lips. Every moment, Lupin was mentioned and cursed at, scoffed at, insulted and held responsible for all the crimes committed. It was as though Gilbert and Vaucheray figured only as supernumeraries, while the real criminal undergoing trial was he, Lupin, Master Lupin, Lupin the burglar, the leader of a gang of thieves, the forger, the incendiary, the hardened offender, the ex-convict, Lupin the murderer, Lupin stained with the blood of his victim, Lupin lurking in the shade, like a coward, after sending his friends to the foot of the scaffold.

“Oh, the rascals know what they’re about!” he muttered. “It’s my debt which they are making my poor old Gilbert pay.”

And the terrible tragedy went on.

At seven o’clock in the evening, after a long deliberation, the jury returned to court and the foreman read out the answers to the questions put from the bench. The answer was “Yes” to every count of the indictment, a verdict of guilty without extenuating circumstances.

The prisoners were brought in. Standing up, but staggering and white-faced, they received their sentence of death.

And, amid the great, solemn silence, in which the anxiety of the onlookers was mingled with pity, the assize-president asked:

“Have you anything more to say, Vaucheray?”

“Nothing, monsieur le president. Now that my mate is sentenced as well as myself, I am easy… We are both on the same footing… The governor must find a way to save the two of us.”

“The governor?”

“Yes, Arsene Lupin.”

There was a laugh among the crowd.

The president asked:

“And you, Gilbert?”

Tears streamed down the poor lad’s cheeks and he stammered a few inarticulate sentences. But, when the judge repeated his question, he succeeded in mastering himself and replied, in a trembling voice:

“I wish to say, monsieur le president, that I am guilty of many things, that’s true… I have done a lot of harm… But, all the same, not this. No, I have not committed murder… I have never committed murder… And I don’t want to die… it would be too horrible…”

He swayed from side to side, supported by the warders, and he was heard to cry, like a child calling for help:

“Governor… save me!… Save me!… I don’t want to die!”

Then, in the crowd, amid the general excitement, a voice rose above the surrounding clamour:

“Don’t be afraid, little ‘un!… The governor’s here!”

A tumult and hustling followed. The municipal guards and the policemen rushed into court and laid hold of a big, red-faced man, who was stated by his neighbours to be the author of that outburst and who struggled hand and foot.

Questioned without delay, he gave his name, Philippe Bonel, an undertaker’s man, and declared that some one sitting beside him had offered him a hundred-franc note if he would consent, at the proper moment, to shout a few words which his neighbour scribbled on a bit of paper. How could he refuse?

In proof of his statements, he produced the hundred-franc note and the scrap of paper.

Philippe Bonel was let go.

Meanwhile, Lupin, who of course had assisted energetically in the individual’s arrest and handed him over to the guards, left the law-courts, his heart heavy with anguish. His car was waiting for him on the quay. He flung himself into it, in despair, seized with so great a sorrow that he had to make an effort to restrain his tears. Gilbert’s cry, his voice wrung with affliction, his distorted features, his tottering frame: all this haunted his brain; and he felt as if he would never, for a single second, forget those impressions.

He drove home to the new place which he had selected among his different residences and which occupied a corner of the Place de Clichy. He expected to find the Growler and the Masher, with whom he was to kidnap Daubrecq that evening. But he had hardly opened the door of his flat, when a cry escaped him: Clarisse stood before him; Clarisse, who had returned from Brittany at the moment of the verdict.

He at once gathered from her attitude and her pallor that she knew. And, at once, recovering his courage in her presence, without giving her time to speak, he exclaimed:

“Yes, yes, yes… but it doesn’t matter. We foresaw that. We couldn’t prevent it. What we have to do is to stop the mischief. And to-night, you understand, to-night, the thing will be done.”

Motionless and tragic in her sorrow, she stammered:

“To-night?”

“Yes. I have prepared everything. In two hours, Daubrecq will be in my hands. To-night, whatever means I have to employ, he shall speak.”

“Do you mean that?” she asked, faintly, while a ray of hope began to light up her face.

“He shall speak. I shall have his secret. I shall tear the list of the Twenty-seven from him. And that list will set your son free.”

“Too late,” Clarisse murmured.

“Too late? Why? Do you think that, in exchange for such a document, I shall not obtain Gilbert’s pretended escape?… Why, Gilbert will be at liberty in three days! In three days…”

He was interrupted by a ring at the bell:

“Listen, here are our friends. Trust me. Remember that I keep my promises. I gave you back your little Jacques. I shall give you back Gilbert.”

He went to let the Growler and the Masher in and said:

“Is everything ready? Is old Brindebois at the restaurant? Quick, let us be off!”

“It’s no use, governor,” replied the Masher.

“No use? What do you mean?”

“There’s news.”

“What news? Speak, man!”

“Daubrecq has disappeared.”

“Eh? What’s that? Daubrecq disappeared?”

“Yes, carried off from his house, in broad daylight.”

“The devil! By whom?”

“Nobody knows… four men… there were pistols fired… The police are on the spot. Prasville is directing the investigations.”

Lupin did not move a limb. He looked at Clarisse Mergy, who lay huddled in a chair.

He himself had to bow his head. Daubrecq carried off meant one more chance of success lost…

CHAPTER VII. THE PROFILE OF NAPOLEON

Soon as the prefect of police, the chief of the criminal-investigation department and the examining-magistrates had left Daubrecq’s house, after a preliminary and entirely fruitless inquiry, Prasville resumed his personal search.

He was examining the study and the traces of the struggle which had taken place there, when the portress brought him a visiting-card, with a few words in pencil scribbled upon it.

“Show the lady in,” he said.

“The lady has some one with her,” said the portress.

“Oh? Well, show the other person in as well.”

Clarisse Mergy entered at once and introduced the gentleman with her, a gentleman in a black frock-coat, which was too tight for him and which looked as though it had not been brushed for ages. He was shy in his manner and seemed greatly embarrassed how to dispose of his old, rusty top-hat, his gingham umbrella, his one and only glove and his body generally.

“M. Nicole,” said Clarisse, “a private teacher, who is acting as tutor to my little Jacques. M. Nicole has been of the greatest help to me with his advice during the past year. He worked out the whole story of the crystal stopper. I should like him, as well as myself—if you see no objection to telling me—to know the details of this kidnapping business, which alarms me and upsets my plans; yours too, I expect?”

Prasville had every confidence in Clarisse Mergy. He knew her relentless hatred of Daubrecq and appreciated the assistance which she had rendered in the case. He therefore made no difficulties about telling her what he knew, thanks to certain clues and especially to the evidence of the portress.

For that matter, the thing was exceedingly simple. Daubrecq, who had attended the trial of Gilbert and Vaucheray as a witness and who was seen in court during the speeches, returned home at six o’clock. The portress affirmed that he came in alone and that there was nobody in the house at the time. Nevertheless, a few minutes later, she heard shouts, followed by the sound of a struggle and two pistol-shots; and from her lodge she saw four masked men scuttle down the front steps, carrying Daubrecq the deputy, and hurry toward the gate. They opened the gate. At the same moment, a motor-car arrived outside the house. The four men bundled themselves into it; and the motor-car, which had hardly had time to stop, set off at full speed.

“Were there not always two policemen on duty?” asked Clarisse.

“They were there,” said Prasville, “but at a hundred and fifty yards’ distance; and Daubrecq was carried off so quickly that they were unable to interfere, although they hastened up as fast as they could.”

“And did they discover nothing, find nothing?”

“Nothing, or hardly anything… Merely this.”

“What is that?”

“A little piece of ivory, which they picked up on the ground. There was a fifth party in the car; and the portress saw him get down while the others were hoisting Daubrecq in. As he was stepping back into the car, he dropped something and picked it up again at once. But the thing, whatever it was, must have been broken on the pavement; for this is the bit of ivory which my men found.”

“But how did the four men manage to enter the house?” asked Clarisse.

“By means of false keys, evidently, while the portress was doing her shopping, in the course of the afternoon; and they had no difficulty in secreting themselves, as Daubrecq keeps no other servants. I have every reason to believe that they hid in the room next door, which is the dining-room, and afterward attacked Daubrecq here, in the study. The disturbance of the furniture and other articles proves how violent the struggle was. We found a large-bore revolver, belonging to Daubrecq, on the carpet. One of the bullets had smashed the glass over the mantel-piece, as you see.”

Clarisse turned to her companion for him to express an opinion. But M. Nicole, with his eyes obstinately lowered, had not budged from his chair and sat fumbling at the rim of his hat, as though he had not yet found a proper place for it.

Prasville gave a smile. It was evident that he did not look upon Clarisse’s adviser as a man of first-rate intelligence:

“The case is somewhat puzzling, monsieur,” he said, “is it not?”

“Yes… yes,” M. Nicole confessed, “most puzzling.”

“Then you have no little theory of your own upon the matter?”

“Well, monsieur le secretaire-general, I’m thinking that Daubrecq has many enemies.”

“Ah, capital!”

“And that several of those enemies, who are interested in his disappearance, must have banded themselves against him.”

“Capital, capital!” said Prasville, with satirical approval. “Capital! Everything is becoming clear as daylight. It only remains for you to furnish us with a little suggestion that will enable us to turn our search in the right direction.”

“Don’t you think, monsieur le secretaire-general, that this broken bit of ivory which was picked up on the ground…”

“No, M. Nicole, no. That bit of ivory belongs to something which we do not know and which its owner will at once make it his business to conceal. In order to trace the owner, we should at least be able to define the nature of the thing itself.”

M. Nicole reflected and then began:

“Monsieur le secretaire-general, when Napoleon I fell from power…”

“Oh, M. Nicole, oh, a lesson in French history!”

“Only a sentence, monsieur le secretaire-general, just one sentence which I will ask your leave to complete. When Napoleon I fell from power, the Restoration placed a certain number of officers on half-pay. These officers were suspected by the authorities and kept under observation by the police. They remained faithful to the emperor’s memory; and they contrived to reproduce the features of their idol on all sorts of objects of everyday use; snuff-boxes, rings, breast-pins, pen-knives and so on.”

“Well?”

“Well, this bit comes from a walking-stick, or rather a sort of loaded cane, or life-preserver, the knob of which is formed of a piece of carved ivory. When you look at the knob in a certain way, you end by seeing that the outline represents the profile of the Little Corporal. What you have in your hand, monsieur le secretaire-general, is a bit of the ivory knob at the top of a half-pay officer’s life-preserver.”

“Yes,” said Prasville, examining the exhibit, “yes, I can make out a profile… but I don’t see the inference…”

“The inference is very simple. Among Daubrecq’s victims, among those whose names are inscribed on the famous list, is the descendant of a Corsican family in Napoleon’s service, which derived its wealth and title from the emperor and was afterward ruined under the Restoration. It is ten to one that this descendant, who was the leader of the Bonapartist party a few years ago, was the fifth person hiding in the motor-car. Need I state his name?”

“The Marquis d’Albufex?” said Prasville.

“The Marquis d’Albufex,” said M. Nicole.

M. Nicole, who no longer seemed in the least worried with his hat, his glove and his umbrella, rose and said to Prasville:

“Monsieur le secretaire-general, I might have kept my discovery to myself, and not told you of it until after the final victory, that is, after bringing you the list of the Twenty-seven. But matters are urgent. Daubrecq’s disappearance, contrary to what his kidnappers expect, may hasten on the catastrophe which you wish to avert. We must therefore act with all speed. Monsieur le secretaire-general, I ask for your immediate and practical assistance.”

“In what way can I help you?” asked Prasville, who was beginning to be impressed by his quaint visitor.

“By giving me, to-morrow, those particulars about the Marquis d’Albufex which it would take me personally several days to collect.”

Prasville seemed to hesitate and turned his head toward Mme. Mergy. Clarisse said:

“I beg of you to accept M. Nicole’s services. He is an invaluable and devoted ally. I will answer for him as I would for myself.”

“What particulars do you require, monsieur?” asked Prasville.

“Everything that concerns the Marquis d’Albufex: the position of his family, the way in which he spends his time, his family connections, the properties which he owns in Paris and in the country.”

Prasville objected:

“After all, whether it’s the marquis or another, Daubrecq’s kidnapper is working on our behalf, seeing that, by capturing the list, he disarms Daubrecq.”

“And who says, monsieur le secretaire-general, that he is not working on his own behalf?”

“That is not possible, as his name is on the list.”

“And suppose he erases it? Suppose you then find yourself dealing with a second blackmailer, even more grasping and more powerful than the first and one who, as a political adversary, is in a better position than Daubrecq to maintain the contest?”

The secretary-general was struck by the argument. After a moment’s thought, he said:

“Come and see me in my office at four o’clock tomorrow. I will give you the particulars. What is your address, in case I should want you?”

“M. Nicole, 25, Place de Clichy. I am staying at a friend’s flat, which he has lent me during his absence.”

The interview was at an end. M. Nicole thanked the secretary-general, with a very low bow, and walked out, accompanied by Mme. Mergy:

“That’s an excellent piece of work,” he said, outside, rubbing his hands. “I can march into the police-office whenever I like, and set the whole lot to work.”

Mme. Mergy, who was less hopefully inclined, said:

“Alas, will you be in time? What terrifies me is the thought that the list may be destroyed.”

“Goodness gracious me, by whom? By Daubrecq?”

“No, but by the marquis, when he gets hold of it.”

“He hasn’t got it yet! Daubrecq will resist long enough, at any rate, for us to reach him. Just think! Prasville is at my orders!”

“Suppose he discovers who you are? The least inquiry will prove that there is no such person as M. Nicole.”

“But it will not prove that M. Nicole is the same person as Arsene Lupin. Besides, make yourself easy. Prasville is not only beneath contempt as a detective: he has but one aim in life, which is to destroy his old enemy, Daubrecq. To achieve that aim, all means are equally good; and he will not waste time in verifying the identity of a M. Nicole who promises him Daubrecq. Not to mention that I was brought by you and that, when all is said, my little gifts did dazzle him to some extent. So let us go ahead boldly.”

Clarisse always recovered confidence in Lupin’s presence. The future seemed less appalling to her; and she admitted, she forced herself to admit, that the chances of saving Gilbert were not lessened by that hideous death-sentence. But he could not prevail upon her to return to Brittany. She wanted to fight by his side. She wanted to be there and share all his hopes and all his disappointments.