The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsene Lupin, Gentleman Burglar
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Maurice Leblanc >> The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsene Lupin, Gentleman Burglar
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A friendship formed under such circumstances soon led to closer
relations. When discreetly questioned, Arsene Lupin confessed his
poverty and distress. Immediately, the unfortunate young man was
appointed private secretary to the Imberts, husband and wife, at a
salary of one hundred francs a month. He was to come to the house
every day and receive orders for his work, and a room on the second
floor was set apart as his office. This room was directly over
Mon. Imbert's office.
Arsene soon realized that his position as secretary was essentially
a sinecure. During the first two months, he had only four
important letters to recopy, and was called only once to Mon.
Imbert's office; consequently, he had only one opportunity to
contemplate, officially, the Imbert safe. Moreover, he noticed
that the secretary was not invited to the social functions of the
employer. But he did not complain, as he preferred to remain,
modestly, in the shade and maintain his peace and freedom.
However, he was not wasting any time. From the beginning, he made
clandestine visits to Mon. Imbert's office, and paid his respects
to the safe, which was hermetically closed. It was an immense
block of iron and steel, cold and stern in appearance, which could
not be forced open by the ordinary tools of the burglar's trade.
But Arsene Lupin was not discouraged.
"Where force fails, cunning prevails," he said to himself. "The
essential thing is to be on the spot when the opportunity occurs.
In the meantime, I must watch and wait."
He made immediately some preliminary preparations. After careful
soundings made upon the floor of his room, he introduced a lead
pipe which penetrated the ceiling of Mon. Imbert's office at a
point between the two screeds of the cornice. By means of this
pipe, he hoped to see and hear what transpired in the room below.
Henceforth, he passed his days stretched at full length upon the
floor. He frequently saw the Imberts holding a consultation in
front of the safe, investigating books and papers. When they
turned the combination lock, he tried to learn the figures and the
number of turns they made to the right and left. He watched their
movements; he sought to catch their words. There was also a key
necessary to complete the opening of the safe. What did they do
with it? Did they hide it?
One day, he saw them leave the room without locking the safe. He
descended the stairs quickly, and boldly entered the room. But
they had returned.
"Oh! excuse me," said, "I made a mistake in the door."
"Come in, Monsieur Lupin, come in," cried Madame Imbert, "are you
not at home here? We want your advice. What bonds should we sell?
The foreign securities or the government annuities?"
"But the injunction?" said Lupin, with surprise.
"Oh! it doesn't cover all the bonds."
She opened the door of the safe and withdrew a package of bonds.
But her husband protested.
"No, no, Gervaise, it would be foolish to sell the foreign bonds.
They are going up, whilst the annuities are as high as they ever
will be. What do you think, my dear friend?"
The dear friend had no opinion; yet he advised the sacrifice of the
annuities. Then she withdrew another package and, from it, she
took a paper at random. It proved to be a three-per-cent annuity
worth two thousand francs. Ludovic placed the package of bonds in
his pocket. That afternoon, accompanied by his secretary, he sold
the annuities to a stock-broker and realized forty-six thousand
francs.
Whatever Madame Imbert might have said about it, Arsene Lupin did
not feel at home in the Imbert house. On the contrary, his
position there was a peculiar one. He learned that the servants
did not even know his name. They called him "monsieur." Ludovic
always spoke of him in the same way: "You will tell monsieur. Has
monsieur arrived?" Why that mysterious appellation?
Moreover, after their first outburst of enthusiasm, the Imberts
seldom spoke to him, and, although treating him with the
consideration due to a benefactor, they gave him little or no
attention. They appeared to regard him as an eccentric character
who did not like to be disturbed, and they respected his isolation
as if it were a stringent rule on his part. On one occasion, while
passing through the vestibule, he heard Madame Imbert say to the
two gentlemen:
"He is such a barbarian!"
"Very well," he said to himself, "I am a barbarian."
And, without seeking to solve the question of their strange
conduct, he proceeded with the execution of his own plans. He had
decided that he could not depend on chance, nor on the negligence
of Madame Imbert, who carried the key of the safe, and who, on
locking the safe, invariably scattered the letters forming the
combination of the lock. Consequently, he must act for himself.
Finally, an incident precipitated matters; it was the vehement
campaign instituted against the Imberts by certain newspapers that
accused the Imberts of swindling. Arsene Lupin was present at
certain family conferences when this new vicissitude was discussed.
He decided that if he waited much longer, he would lose everything.
During the next five days, instead of leaving the house about six
o'clock, according to his usual habit, he locked himself in his
room. It was supposed that he had gone out. But he was lying on
the floor surveying the office of Mon. Imbert. During those five
evenings, the favorable opportunity that he awaited did not take
place. He left the house about midnight by a side door to which he
held the key.
But on the sixth day, he learned that the Imberts, actuated by the
malevolent insinuations of their enemies, proposed to make an
inventory of the contents of the safe.
"They will do it to-night," thought Lupin.
And truly, after dinner, Imbert and his wife retired to the office
and commenced to examine the books of account and the securities
contained in the safe. Thus, one hour after another passed away.
He heard the servants go upstairs to their rooms. No one now
remained on the first floor. Midnight! The Imberts were still at
work.
"I must get to work," murmured Lupin.
He opened his window. It opened on a court. Outside, everything
was dark and quiet. He took from his desk a knotted rope, fastened
it to the balcony in front of his window, and quietly descended as
far as the window below, which was that of the of Imbert's office.
He stood upon the balcony for a moment, motionless, with attentive
ear and watchful eye, but the heavy curtains effectually concealed
the interior of the room. He cautiously pushed on the double
window. If no one had examined it, it ought to yield to the
slightest pressure, for, during the afternoon, he had so fixed the
bolt that it would not enter the staple.
The window yielded to his touch. Then, with infinite care, he
pushed it open sufficiently to admit his head. He parted the
curtains a few inches, looked in, and saw Mon. Imbert and his wife
sitting in front of the safe, deeply absorbed in their work and
speaking softly to each other at rare intervals.
He calculated the distance between him and them, considered the
exact movements he would require to make in order to overcome them,
one after the other, before they could call for help, and he was
about to rush upon them, when Madame Imbert said:
"Ah! the room is getting quite cold. I am going to bed. And you,
my dear?"
"I shall stay and finish."
"Finish! Why, that will take you all night."
"Not at all. An hour, at the most."
She retired. Twenty minutes, thirty minutes passed. Arsene pushed
the window a little farther open. The curtains shook. He pushed
once more. Mon. Imbert turned, and, seeing the curtains blown by
the wind, he rose to close the window.
There was not a cry, not the trace of struggle. With a few precise
moments, and without causing him the least injury, Arsene stunned
him, wrapped the curtain about his head, bound him hand and foot,
and did it all in such a manner that Mon. Imbert had no opportunity
to recognize his assailant.
Quickly, he approached the safe, seized two packages that he placed
under his arm, left the office, and opened the servants' gate. A
carriage was stationed in the street.
"Take that, first--and follow me," he said to the coachman. He
returned to the office, and, in two trips, they emptied the safe.
Then Arsene went to his own room, removed the rope, and all other
traces of his clandestine work.
A few hours later, Arsene Lupin and his assistant examined the
stolen goods. Lupin was not disappointed, as he had foreseen that
the wealth of the Imberts had been greatly exaggerated. It did not
consist of hundreds of millions, nor even tens of millions. Yet it
amounted to a very respectable sum, and Lupin expressed his
satisfaction.
"Of course," he said, "there will be a considerable loss when we
come to sell the bonds, as we will have to dispose of them
surreptitiously at reduced prices. In the meantime, they will rest
quietly in my desk awaiting a propitious moment."
Arsene saw no reason why he should not go to the Imbert house the
next day. But a perusal of the morning papers revealed this
startling fact: Ludovic and Gervaise Imbert had disappeared.
When the officers of the law seized the safe and opened it, they
found there what Arsene Lupin had left--nothing.
* * * * *
Such are the facts; and I learned the sequel to them, one day, when
Arsene Lupin was in a confidential mood. He was pacing to and fro
in my room, with a nervous step and a feverish eye that were
unusual to him.
"After all," I said to him, "it was your most successful venture."
Without making a direct reply, he said:
"There are some impenetrable secrets connected with that affair;
some obscure points that escape my comprehension. For instance:
What caused their flight? Why did they not take advantage of the
help I unconsciously gave them? It would have been so simple to
say: `The hundred millions were in the safe. They are no longer
there, because they have been stolen.'"
"They lost their nerve."
"Yes, that is it--they lost their nerve...On the other hand, it
is true---"
"What is true?"
"Oh! nothing."
What was the meaning of Lupin's reticence? It was quite obvious
that he had not told me everything; there was something he was
loath to tell. His conduct puzzled me. It must indeed be a very
serious matter to cause such a man as Arsene Lupin even a momentary
hesitation. I threw out a few questions at random.
"Have you seen them since?"
"No."
"And have you never experienced the slightest degree of pity for
those unfortunate people?"
"I!" he exclaimed, with a start.
His sudden excitement astonished me. Had I touched him on a sore
spot? I continued:
"Of course. If you had not left them alone, they might have been
able to face the danger, or, at least, made their escape with full
pockets."
"What do you mean?" he said, indignantly. "I suppose you have an
idea that my soul should be filled with remorse?"
"Call it remorse or regrets--anything you like---"
"They are not worth it."
"Have you no regrets or remorse for having stolen their fortune?"
"What fortune?"
"The packages of bonds you took from their safe."
"Oh! I stole their bonds, did I? I deprived them of a portion of
their wealth? Is that my crime? Ah! my dear boy, you do not know
the truth. You never imagined that those bonds were not worth the
paper they were written on. Those bonds were false--they were
counterfeit--every one of them--do you understand? THEY WERE
COUNTERFEIT!"
I looked at him, astounded.
"Counterfeit! The four or five millions?"
"Yes, counterfeit!" he exclaimed, in a fit of rage. "Only so many
scraps of paper! I couldn't raise a sou on the whole of them! And
you ask me if I have any remorse. THEY are the ones who should
have remorse and pity. They played me for a simpleton; and I fell
into their trap. I was their latest victim, their most stupid
gull!"
He was affected by genuine anger--the result of malice and wounded
pride. He continued:
"From start to finish, I got the worst of it. Do you know the part
I played in that affair, or rather the part they made me play?
That of Andre Brawford! Yes, my boy, that is the truth, and I
never suspected it. It was not until afterwards, on reading the
newspapers, that the light finally dawned in my stupid brain.
Whilst I was posing as his "saviour," as the gentleman who had
risked his life to rescue Mon. Imbert from the clutches of an
assassin, they were passing me off as Brawford. Wasn't that
splendid? That eccentric individual who had a room on the second
floor, that barbarian that was exhibited only at a distance, was
Brawford, and Brawford was I! Thanks to me, and to the confidence
that I inspired under the name of Brawford, they were enabled to
borrow money from the bankers and other money-lenders. Ha! what an
experience for a novice! And I swear to you that I shall profit by
the lesson!"
He stopped, seized my arm, and said to me, in a tone of
exasperation:
"My dear fellow, at this very moment, Gervaise Imbert owes me
fifteen hundred francs."
I could not refrain from laughter, his rage was so grotesque. He
was making a mountain out of a molehill. In a moment, he laughed
himself, and said:
"Yes, my boy, fifteen hundred francs. You must know that I had not
received one sou of my promised salary, and, more than that, she
had borrowed from me the sum of fifteen hundred francs. All my
youthful savings! And do you know why? To devote the money to
charity! I am giving you a straight story. She wanted it for some
poor people she was assisting--unknown to her husband. And my hard-
earned money was wormed out of me by that silly pretense! Isn't it
amusing, hein? Arsene Lupin done out of fifteen hundred francs by
the fair lady from whom he stole four millions in counterfeit
bonds! And what a vast amount of time and patience and cunning I
expended to achieve that result! It was the first time in my life
that I was played for a fool, and I frankly confess that I was
fooled that time to the queen's taste!"
VIII. THE BLACK PEARL
A violent ringing of the bell awakened the concierge of number
nine, avenue Hoche. She pulled the doorstring, grumbling:
"I thought everybody was in. It must be three o'clock!"
"Perhaps it is some one for the doctor," muttered her husband.
"Third floor, left. But the doctor won't go out at night."
"He must go to-night."
The visitor entered the vestibule, ascended to the first floor, the
second, the third, and, without stopping at the doctor's door, he
continued to the fifth floor. There, he tried two keys. One of
them fitted the lock.
"Ah! good!" he murmured, "that simplifies the business wonderfully.
But before I commence work I had better arrange for my retreat.
Let me see....have I had sufficient time to rouse the doctor
and be dismissed by him? Not yet....a few minutes more."
At the end of ten minutes, he descended the stairs, grumbling
noisily about the doctor. The concierge opened the door for him
and heard it click behind him. But the door did not lock, as the
man had quickly inserted a piece of iron in the lock in such a
manner that the bolt could not enter. Then, quietly, he entered
the house again, unknown to the concierge. In case of alarm, his
retreat was assured. Noiselessly, he ascended to the fifth floor
once more. In the antechamber, by the light of his electric
lantern, he placed his hat and overcoat on one of the chairs, took
a seat on another, and covered his heavy shoes with felt slippers.
"Ouf! Here I am--and how simple it was! I wonder why more people do
not adopt the profitable and pleasant occupation of burglar. With
a little care and reflection, it becomes a most delightful
profession. Not too quiet and monotonous, of course, as it would
then become wearisome."
He unfolded a detailed plan of the apartment.
"Let me commence by locating myself. Here, I see the vestibule in
which I am sitting. On the street front, the drawing-room, the
boudoir and dining-room. Useless to waste any time there, as it
appears that the countess has a deplorable taste....not a
bibelot of any value!...Now, let's get down to business!...
Ah! here is a corridor; it must lead to the bed chambers. At a
distance of three metres, I should come to the door of the
wardrobe-closet which connects with the chamber of the countess."
He folded his plan, extinguished his lantern, and proceeded down
the corridor, counting his distance, thus:
"One metre....two metres....three metres....Here is
the door....Mon Dieu, how easy it is! Only a small, simple bolt
now separates me from the chamber, and I know that the bolt is
located exactly one metre, forty-three centimeters, from the floor.
So that, thanks to a small incision I am about to make, I can soon
get rid of the bolt."
He drew from his pocket the necessary instruments. Then the
following idea occurred to him:
"Suppose, by chance, the door is not bolted. I will try it first."
He turned the knob, and the door opened.
"My brave Lupin, surely fortune favors you....What's to be
done now? You know the situation of the rooms; you know the place
in which the countess hides the black pearl. Therefore, in order
to secure the black pearl, you have simply to be more silent than
silence, more invisible than darkness itself."
Arsene Lupin was employed fully a half-hour in opening the second
door--a glass door that led to the countess' bedchamber. But he
accomplished it with so much skill and precaution, that even had
had the countess been awake, she would not have heard the slightest
sound. According to the plan of the rooms, that he holds, he has
merely to pass around a reclining chair and, beyond that, a small
table close to the bed. On the table, there was a box of letter-
paper, and the black pearl was concealed in that box. He stooped
and crept cautiously over the carpet, following the outlines of the
reclining-chair. When he reached the extremity of it, he stopped
in order to repress the throbbing of his heart. Although he was
not moved by any sense of fear, he found it impossible to overcome
the nervous anxiety that one usually feels in the midst of profound
silence. That circumstance astonished him, because he had passed
through many more solemn moments without the slightest trace of
emotion. No danger threatened him. Then why did his heart throb
like an alarm-bell? Was it that sleeping woman who affected him?
Was it the proximity of another pulsating heart?
He listened, and thought he could discern the rhythmical breathing
of a person asleep. It gave him confidence, like the presence of a
friend. He sought and found the armchair; then, by slow, cautious
movements, advanced toward the table, feeling ahead of him with
outstretched arm. His right had touched one of the feet of the
table. Ah! now, he had simply to rise, take the pearl, and escape.
That was fortunate, as his heart was leaping in his breast like a
wild beast, and made so much noise that he feared it would waken
the countess. By a powerful effort of the will, he subdued the
wild throbbing of his heart, and was about to rise from the floor
when his left hand encountered, lying on the floor, an object which
he recognized as a candlestick--an overturned candlestick. A moment
later, his hand encountered another object: a clock--one of those
small traveling clocks, covered with leather.
-------
Well! What had happened? He could not understand. That
candlestick, that clock; why were those articles not in their
accustomed places? Ah! what had happened in the dread silence of
the night?
Suddenly a cry escaped him. He had touched--oh! some strange,
unutterable thing! "No! no!" he thought, "it cannot be. It is
some fantasy of my excited brain." For twenty seconds, thirty
seconds, he remained motionless, terrified, his forehead bathed
with perspiration, and his fingers still retained the sensation of
that dreadful contact.
Making a desperate effort, he ventured to extend his arm again.
Once more, his hand encountered that strange, unutterable thing.
He felt it. He must feel it and find out what it is. He found
that it was hair, human hair, and a human face; and that face was
cold, almost icy.
However frightful the circumstances may be, a man like Arsene Lupin
controls himself and commands the situation as soon as he learns
what it is. So, Arsene Lupin quickly brought his lantern into use.
A woman was lying before him, covered with blood. Her neck and
shoulders were covered with gaping wounds. He leaned over her and
made a closer examination. She was dead.
"Dead! Dead!" he repeated, with a bewildered air.
He stared at those fixed eyes, that grim mouth, that livid flesh,
and that blood--all that blood which had flowed over the carpet and
congealed there in thick, black spots. He arose and turned on the
electric lights. Then he beheld all the marks of a desperate
struggle. The bed was in a state of great disorder. On the
floor, the candlestick, and the clock, with the hands pointing to
twenty minutes after eleven; then, further away, an overturned
chair; and, everywhere, there was blood, spots of blood and pools
of blood.
"And the black pearl?" he murmured.
The box of letter-paper was in its place. He opened it, eagerly.
The jewel-case was there, but it was empty.
"Fichtre!" he muttered. "You boasted of your good fortune much too
soon, my friend Lupin. With the countess lying cold and dead, and
the black pearl vanished, the situation is anything but pleasant.
Get out of here as soon as you can, or you may get into serious
trouble."
Yet, he did not move.
"Get out of here? Yes, of course. Any person would, except Arsene
Lupin. He has something better to do. Now, to proceed in an
orderly way. At all events, you have a clear conscience. Let us
suppose that you are the commissary of police and that you are
proceeding to make an inquiry concerning this affair----Yes, but
in order to do that, I require a clearer brain. Mine is muddled
like a ragout."
He tumbled into an armchair, with his clenched hands pressed
against his burning forehead.
* * * * *
The murder of the avenue Hoche is one of those which have recently
surprised and puzzled the Parisian public, and, certainly, I should
never have mentioned the affair if the veil of mystery had not been
removed by Arsene Lupin himself. No one knew the exact truth of
the case.
Who did not know--from having met her in the Bois--the fair Leotine
Zalti, the once-famous cantatrice, wife and widow of the Count
d'Andillot; the Zalti, whose luxury dazzled all Paris some twenty
years ago; the Zalti who acquired an European reputation for the
magnificence of her diamonds and pearls? It was said that she wore
upon her shoulders the capital of several banking houses and the
gold mines of numerous Australian companies. Skilful jewelers
worked for Zalti as they had formerly wrought for kings and queens.
And who does not remember the catastrophe in which all that wealth
was swallowed up? Of all that marvelous collection, nothing
remained except the famous black pearl. The black pearl! That is
to say a fortune, if she had wished to part with it.
But she preferred to keep it, to live in a commonplace apartment
with her companion, her cook, and a man-servant, rather than sell
that inestimable jewel. There was a reason for it; a reason she
was not afraid to disclose: the black pearl was the gift of an
emperor! Almost ruined, and reduced to the most mediocre
existence, she remained faithful to the companion of her happy and
brilliant youth. The black pearl never left her possession. She
wore it during the day, and, at night, concealed it in a place
known to her alone.
All these facts, being republished in the columns of the public
press, served to stimulate curiosity; and, strange to say, but
quite obvious to those who have the key to the mystery, the arrest
of the presumed assassin only complicated the question and
prolonged the excitement. Two days later, the newspapers published
the following item:
"Information has reached us of the arrest of Victor Danegre, the
servant of the Countess d'Andillot. The evidence against him is
clear and convincing. On the silken sleeve of his liveried
waistcoat, which chief detective Dudouis found in his garret
between the mattresses of his bed, several spots of blood were
discovered. In addition, a cloth-covered button was missing from
that garment, and this button was found beneath the bed of the
victim.
"It is supposed that, after dinner, in place of going to his own
room, Danegre slipped into the wardrobe-closet, and, through the
glass door, had seen the countess hide the precious black pearl.
This is simply a theory, as yet unverified by any evidence. There
is, also, another obscure point. At seven o'clock in the morning,
Danegre went to the tobacco-shop on the Boulevard de Courcelles;
the concierge and the shop-keeper both affirm this fact. On the
other hand, the countess' companion and cook, who sleep at the end
of the hall, both declare that, when they arose at eight o'clock,
the door of the antechamber and the door of the kitchen were
locked. These two persons have been in the service of the countess
for twenty years, and are above suspicion. The question is: How
did Danegre leave the apartment? Did he have another key? These
are matters that the police will investigate."
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