The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsene Lupin, Gentleman Burglar
M >>
Maurice Leblanc >> The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsene Lupin, Gentleman Burglar
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13
During the fortnight preceding his trial, he resumed his vigorous
life. He complained of want of air. Consequently, early every
morning he was allowed to exercise in the courtyard, guarded by
two men.
Public curiosity had not died out; every day it expected to be
regaled with news of his escape; and, it is true, he had gained a
considerable amount of public sympathy by reason of his verve, his
gayety, his diversity, his inventive genius and the mystery of his
life. Arsene Lupin must escape. It was his inevitable fate. The
public expected it, and was surprised that the event had been
delayed so long. Every morning the Prefect of Police asked his
secretary:
"Well, has he escaped yet?"
"No, Monsieur le Prefect."
"To-morrow, probably."
And, on the day before the trial, a gentleman called at the office
of the `Grand Journal,' asked to see the court reporter, threw his
card in the reporter's face, and walked rapidly away. These words
were written on the card: "Arsene Lupin always keeps his
promises."
* * * * *
It was under these conditions that the trial commenced. An
enormous crowd gathered at the court. Everybody wished to see the
famous Arsene Lupin. They had a gleeful anticipation that the
prisoner would play some audacious pranks upon the judge.
Advocates and magistrates, reporters and men of the world,
actresses and society women were crowded together on the benches
provided for the public.
It was a dark, sombre day, with a steady downpour of rain. Only a
dim light pervaded the courtroom, and the spectators caught a very
indistinct view of the prisoner when the guards brought him in.
But his heavy, shambling walk, the manner in which he dropped into
his seat, and his passive, stupid appearance were not at all
prepossessing. Several times his advocate--one of Mon. Danval's
assistants--spoke to him, but he simply shook his head and said
nothing.
The clerk read the indictment, then the judge spoke:
"Prisoner at the bar, stand up. Your name, age, and occupation?"
Not receiving any reply, the judge repeated:
"Your name? I ask you your name?"
A thick, slow voice muttered:
"Baudru, Desire."
A murmur of surprise pervaded the courtroom. But the judge
proceeded:
"Baudru, Desire? Ah! a new alias! Well, as you have already
assumed a dozen different names and this one is, no doubt, as
imaginary as the others, we will adhere to the name of Arsene
Lupin, by which you are more generally known."
The judge referred to his notes, and continued:
"For, despite the most diligent search, your past history remains
unknown. Your case is unique in the annals of crime. We know not
whom you are, whence you came, your birth and breeding--all is a
mystery to us. Three years ago you appeared in our midst as
Arsene Lupin, presenting to us a strange combination of
intelligence and perversion, immorality and generosity.
Our knowledge of your life prior to that date is vague and
problematical. It may be that the man called Rostat who, eight
years ago, worked with Dickson, the prestidigitator, was none
other than Arsene Lupin. It is probable that the Russian student
who, six years ago, attended the laboratory of Doctor Altier at
the Saint Louis Hospital, and who often astonished the doctor by
the ingenuity of his hypotheses on subjects of bacteriology and
the boldness of his experiments in diseases of the skin, was none
other than Arsene Lupin. It is probable, also, that Arsene Lupin
was the professor who introduced the Japanese art of jiu-jitsu to
the Parisian public. We have some reason to believe that Arsene
Lupin was the bicyclist who won the Grand Prix de l'Exposition,
received his ten thousand francs, and was never heard of again.
Arsene Lupin may have been, also, the person who saved so many
lives through the little dormer-window at the Charity Bazaar;
and, at the same time, picked their pockets."
The judge paused for a moment, then continued:
"Such is that epoch which seems to have been utilized by you in a
thorough preparation for the warfare you have since waged against
society; a methodical apprenticeship in which you developed your
strength, energy and skill to the highest point possible. Do you
acknowledge the accuracy of these facts?"
During this discourse the prisoner had stood balancing himself,
first on one foot, then on the other, with shoulders stooped and
arms inert. Under the strongest light one could observe his
extreme thinness, his hollow cheeks, his projecting cheek-bones,
his earthen-colored face dotted with small red spots and framed in
a rough, straggling beard. Prison life had caused him to age and
wither. He had lost the youthful face and elegant figure we had
seen portrayed so often in the newspapers.
It appeared as if he had not heard the question propounded by the
judge. Twice it was repeated to him. Then he raised his eyes,
seemed to reflect, then, making a desperate effort, he murmured:
"Baudru, Desire."
The judge smiled, as he said:
"I do not understand the theory of your defense, Arsene Lupin. If
you are seeking to avoid responsibility for your crimes on the
ground of imbecility, such a line of defense is open to you. But
I shall proceed with the trial and pay no heed to your vagaries."
He then narrated at length the various thefts, swindles and
forgeries charged against Lupin. Sometimes he questioned the
prisoner, but the latter simply grunted or remained silent. The
examination of witnesses commenced. Some of the evidence given
was immaterial; other portions of it seemed more important, but
through all of it there ran a vein of contradictions and
inconsistencies. A wearisome obscurity enveloped the proceedings,
until Detective Ganimard was called as a witness; then interest
was revived.
From the beginning the actions of the veteran detective appeared
strange and unaccountable. He was nervous and ill at ease.
Several times he looked at the prisoner, with obvious doubt and
anxiety. Then, with his hands resting on the rail in front of
him, he recounted the events in which he had participated,
including his pursuit of the prisoner across Europe and his
arrival in America. He was listened to with great avidity, as his
capture of Arsene Lupin was well known to everyone through the
medium of the press. Toward the close of his testimony, after
referring to his conversations with Arsene Lupin, he stopped,
twice, embarrassed and undecided. It was apparent that he was
possessed of some thought which he feared to utter. The judge
said to him, sympathetically:
"If you are ill, you may retire for the present."
"No, no, but---"
He stopped, looked sharply at the prisoner, and said:
"I ask permission to scrutinize the prisoner at closer range.
There is some mystery about him that I must solve."
He approached the accused man, examined him attentively for
several minutes, then returned to the witness-stand, and, in an
almost solemn voice, he said:
"I declare, on oath, that the prisoner now before me is not Arsene
Lupin."
A profound silence followed the statement. The judge, nonplused
for a moment, exclaimed:
"Ah! What do you mean? That is absurd!"
The detective continued:
"At first sight there is a certain resemblance, but if you
carefully consider the nose, the mouth, the hair, the color of
skin, you will see that it is not Arsene Lupin. And the eyes!
Did he ever have those alcoholic eyes!"
"Come, come, witness! What do you mean? Do you pretend to say
that we are trying the wrong man?"
"In my opinion, yes. Arsene Lupin has, in some manner, contrived
to put this poor devil in his place, unless this man is a willing
accomplice."
This dramatic denouement caused much laughter and excitement
amongst the spectators. The judge adjourned the trial, and sent
for Mon. Bouvier, the gaoler, and guards employed in the prison.
When the trial was resumed, Mon. Bouvier and the gaoler examined
the accused and declared that there was only a very slight
resemblance between the prisoner and Arsene Lupin.
"Well, then!" exclaimed the judge, "who is this man? Where does
he come from? What is he in prison for?"
Two of the prison-guards were called and both of them declared
that the prisoner was Arsene Lupin. The judged breathed once
more.
But one of the guards then said:
"Yes, yes, I think it is he."
"What!" cried the judge, impatiently, "you *think* it is he! What
do you mean by that?"
"Well, I saw very little of the prisoner. He was placed in my
charge in the evening and, for two months, he seldom stirred, but
laid on his bed with his face to the wall."
"What about the time prior to those two months?"
"Before that he occupied a cell in another part of the prison. He
was not in cell 24."
Here the head gaoler interrupted, and said:
"We changed him to another cell after his attempted escape."
"But you, monsieur, you have seen him during those two months?"
"I had no occasion to see him. He was always quiet and orderly."
"And this prisoner is not Arsene Lupin?"
"No."
"Then who is he?" demanded the judge.
"I do not know."
"Then we have before us a man who was substituted for Arsene
Lupin, two months ago. How do you explain that?"
"I cannot."
In absolute despair, the judge turned to the accused and addressed
him in a conciliatory tone:
"Prisoner, can you tell me how, and since when, you became an
inmate of the Prison de la Sante?"
The engaging manner of the judge was calculated to disarm the
mistrust and awaken the understanding of the accused man. He
tried to reply. Finally, under clever and gentle questioning, he
succeeded in framing a few phrases from which the following story
was gleaned: Two months ago he had been taken to the Depot,
examined and released. As he was leaving the building, a free
man, he was seized by two guards and placed in the prison-van.
Since then he had occupied cell 24. He was contented there,
plenty to eat, and he slept well--so he did not complain.
All that seemed probable; and, amidst the mirth and excitement of
the spectators, the judge adjourned the trial until the story
could be investigated and verified.
* * * * *
The following facts were at once established by an examination of
the prison records: Eight weeks before a man named Baudru Desire
had slept at the Depot. He was released the next day, and left
the Depot at two o'clock in the afternoon. On the same day at two
o'clock, having been examined for the last time, Arsene Lupin left
the Depot in a prison-van.
Had the guards made a mistake? Had they been deceived by the
resemblance and carelessly substituted this man for their
prisoner?
Another question suggested itself: Had the substitution been
arranged in advance? In that event Baudru must have been an
accomplice and must have caused his own arrest for the express
purpose of taking Lupin's place. But then, by what miracle had
such a plan, based on a series of improbable chances, been carried
to success?
Baudru Desire was turned over to the anthropological service; they
had never seen anything like him. However, they easily traced his
past history. He was known at Courbevois, at Asnieres and at
Levallois. He lived on alms and slept in one of those rag-picker's
huts near the barrier de Ternes. He had disappeared from there a
year ago.
Had he been enticed away by Arsene Lupin? There was no evidence to
that effect. And even if that was so, it did not explain the
flight of the prisoner. That still remained a mystery. Amongst
twenty theories which sought to explain it, not one was
satisfactory. Of the escape itself, there was no doubt; an escape
that was incomprehensible, sensational, in which the public, as
well as the officers of the law, could detect a carefully prepared
plan, a combination of circumstances marvelously dove-tailed,
whereof the denouement fully justified the confident prediction of
Arsene Lupin: "I shall not be present at my trial."
After a month of patient investigation, the problem remained
unsolved. The poor devil of a Baudru could not be kept in prison
indefinitely, and to place him on trial would be ridiculous. There
was no charge against him. Consequently, he was released; but the
chief of the Surete resolved to keep him under surveillance. This
idea originated with Ganimard. From his point of view there was
neither complicity nor chance. Baudru was an instrument upon which
Arsene Lupin had played with his extraordinary skill. Baudru, when
set at liberty, would lead them to Arsene Lupin or, at least, to
some of his accomplices. The two inspectors, Folenfant and Dieuzy,
were assigned to assist Ganimard.
One foggy morning in January the prison gates opened and Baudru
Desire stepped forth--a free man. At first he appeared to be quite
embarrassed, and walked like a person who has no precise idea
whither he is going. He followed the rue de la Sante and the rue
Saint Jacques. He stopped in front of an old-clothes shop, removed
his jacket and his vest, sold his vest on which he realized a few
sous; then, replacing his jacket, he proceeded on his way. He
crossed the Seine. At the Chatelet an omnibus passed him. He
wished to enter it, but there was no place. The controller advised
him to secure a number, so he entered the waiting-room.
Ganimard called to his two assistants, and, without removing his
eyes from the waiting room, he said to them:
"Stop a carriage....no, two. That will be better. I will go with
one of you, and we will follow him."
The men obeyed. Yet Baudru did not appear. Ganimard entered the
waiting-room. It was empty.
"Idiot that I am!" he muttered, "I forgot there was another exit."
There was an interior corridor extending from the waiting-room to
the rue Saint Martin. Ganimard rushed through it and arrived just
in time to observe Baudru upon the top of the Batignolles-Jardin de
Plates omnibus as it was turning the corner of the rue de Rivoli.
He ran and caught the omnibus. But he had lost his two assistants.
He must continue the pursuit alone. In his anger he was inclined
to seize the man by the collar without ceremony. Was it not with
premeditation and by means of an ingenious ruse that his pretended
imbecile had separated him from his assistants?
He looked at Baudru. The latter was asleep on the bench, his head
rolling from side to side, his mouth half-opened, and an incredible
expression of stupidity on his blotched face. No, such an
adversary was incapable of deceiving old Ganimard. It was a stroke
of luck--nothing more.
At the Galleries-Lafayette, the man leaped from the omnibus and
took the La Muette tramway, following the boulevard Haussmann and
the avenue Victor Hugo. Baudru alighted at La Muette station; and,
with a nonchalant air, strolled into the Bois de Boulogne.
He wandered through one path after another, and sometimes retraced
his steps. What was he seeking? Had he any definite object? At
the end of an hour, he appeared to be faint from fatigue, and,
noticing a bench, he sat down. The spot, not far from Auteuil, on
the edge of a pond hidden amongst the trees, was absolutely
deserted. After the lapse of another half-hour, Ganimard became
impatient and resolved to speak to the man. He approached and took
a seat beside Baudru, lighted a cigarette, traced some figures in
the sand with the end of his cane, and said:
"It's a pleasant day."
No response. But, suddenly the man burst into laughter, a happy,
mirthful laugh, spontaneous and irresistible. Ganimard felt his
hair stand on end in horror and surprise. It was that laugh, that
infernal laugh he knew so well!
With a sudden movement, he seized the man by the collar and looked
at him with a keen, penetrating gaze; and found that he no longer
saw the man Baudru. To be sure, he saw Baudru; but, at the same
time, he saw the other, the real man, Lupin. He discovered the
intense life in the eyes, he filled up the shrunken features, he
perceived the real flesh beneath the flabby skin, the real mouth
through the grimaces that deformed it. Those were the eyes and
mouth of the other, and especially his keen, alert, mocking
expression, so clear and youthful!
"Arsene Lupin, Arsene Lupin," he stammered.
Then, in a sudden fit of rage, he seized Lupin by the throat and
tried to hold him down. In spite of his fifty years, he still
possessed unusual strength, whilst his adversary was apparently in
a weak condition. But the struggle was a brief one. Arsene Lupin
made only a slight movement, and, as suddenly as he had made the
attack, Ganimard released his hold. His right arm fell inert,
useless.
"If you had taken lessons in jiu-jitsu at the quai des Orfevres,"
said Lupin, "you would know that that blow is called udi-shi-ghi in
Japanese. A second more, and I would have broken your arm and that
would have been just what you deserve. I am surprised that you, an
old friend whom I respect and before whom I voluntarily expose my
incognito, should abuse my confidence in that violent manner. It
is unworthy--Ah! What's the matter?"
Ganimard did not reply. That escape for which he deemed himself
responsible--was it not he, Ganimard, who, by his sensational
evidence, had led the court into serious error? That escape
appeared to him like a dark cloud on his professional career. A
tear rolled down his cheek to his gray moustache.
"Oh! mon Dieu, Ganimard, don't take it to heart. If you had not
spoken, I would have arranged for some one else to do it. I
couldn't allow poor Baudru Desire to be convicted."
"Then," murmured Ganimard, "it was you that was there? And now you
are here?"
"It is I, always I, only I."
"Can it be possible?"
"Oh, it is not the work of a sorcerer. Simply, as the judge
remarked at the trial, the apprenticeship of a dozen years that
equips a man to cope successfully with all the obstacles in life."
"But your face? Your eyes?"
"You can understand that if I worked eighteen months with Doctor
Altier at the Saint-Louis hospital, it was not out of love for the
work. I considered that he, who would one day have the honor of
calling himself Arsene Lupin, ought to be exempt from the ordinary
laws governing appearance and identity. Appearance? That can be
modified at will. For instance, a hypodermic injection of
paraffine will puff up the skin at the desired spot. Pyrogallic
acid will change your skin to that of an Indian. The juice of the
greater celandine will adorn you with the most beautiful eruptions
and tumors. Another chemical affects the growth of your beard and
hair; another changes the tone of your voice. Add to that two
months of dieting in cell 24; exercises repeated a thousand times
to enable me to hold my features in a certain grimace, to carry my
head at a certain inclination, and adapt my back and shoulders to a
stooping posture. Then five drops of atropine in the eyes to make
them haggard and wild, and the trick is done."
"I do not understand how you deceived the guards."
"The change was progressive. The evolution was so gradual that
they failed to notice it."
"But Baudru Desire?"
"Baudru exists. He is a poor, harmless fellow whom I met last
year; and, really, he bears a certain resemblance to me.
Considering my arrest as a possible event, I took charge of Baudru
and studied the points wherein we differed in appearance with a
view to correct them in my own person. My friends caused him to
remain at the Depot overnight, and to leave there next day about
the same hour as I did--a coincidence easily arranged. Of course,
it was necessary to have a record of his detention at the Depot in
order to establish the fact that such a person was a reality;
otherwise, the police would have sought elsewhere to find out my
identity. But, in offering to them this excellent Baudru, it was
inevitable, you understand, inevitable that they would seize
upon him, and, despite the insurmountable difficulties of a
substitution, they would prefer to believe in a substitution than
confess their ignorance."
"Yes, yes, of course," said Ganimard.
"And then," exclaimed Arsene Lupin, "I held in my hands a trump-
card: an anxious public watching and waiting for my escape. And
that is the fatal error into which you fell, you and the others, in
the course of that fascinating game pending between me and the
officers of the law wherein the stake was my liberty. And you
supposed that I was playing to the gallery; that I was intoxicated
with my success. I, Arsene Lupin, guilty of such weakness! Oh,
no! And, no longer ago than the Cahorn affair, you said: "When
Arsene Lupin cries from the housetops that he will escape, he has
some object in view." But, sapristi, you must understand that in
order to escape I must create, in advance, a public belief in that
escape, a belief amounting to an article of faith, an absolute
conviction, a reality as glittering as the sun. And I did create
that belief that Arsene Lupin would escape, that Arsene Lupin would
not be present at his trial. And when you gave your evidence and
said: "That man is not Arsene Lupin," everybody was prepared to
believe you. Had one person doubted it, had any one uttered this
simple restriction: Suppose it is Arsene Lupin?--from that moment, I
was lost. If anyone had scrutinized my face, not imbued with the
idea that I was not Arsene Lupin, as you and the others did at my
trial, but with the idea that I might be Arsene Lupin; then,
despite all my precautions, I should have been recognized. But I
had no fear. Logically, psychologically, no once could entertain
the idea that I was Arsene Lupin."
He grasped Ganimard's hand.
"Come, Ganimard, confess that on the Wednesday after our
conversation in the prison de la Sante, you expected me at your
house at four o'clock, exactly as I said I would go."
"And your prison-van?" said Ganimard, evading the question.
"A bluff! Some of my friends secured that old unused van and wished
to make the attempt. But I considered it impractical without the
concurrence of a number of unusual circumstances. However, I found
it useful to carry out that attempted escape and give it the widest
publicity. An audaciously planned escape, though not completed,
gave to the succeeding one the character of reality simply by
anticipation."
"So that the cigar...."
"Hollowed by myself, as well as the knife."
"And the letters?"
"Written by me."
"And the mysterious correspondent?"
"Did not exist."
Ganimard reflected a moment, then said:
"When the anthropological service had Baudru's case under
consideration, why did they not perceive that his measurements
coincided with those of Arsene Lupin?"
"My measurements are not in existence."
"Indeed!"
"At least, they are false. I have given considerable attention to
that question. In the first place, the Bertillon system of records
the visible marks of identification--and you have seen that they are
not infallible--and, after that, the measurements of the head, the
fingers, the ears, etc. Of course, such measurements are more or
less infallible."
"Absolutely."
"No; but it costs money to get around them. Before we left
America, one of the employees of the service there accepted so much
money to insert false figures in my measurements. Consequently,
Baudru's measurements should not agree with those of Arsene Lupin."
After a short silence, Ganimard asked:
"What are you going to do now?"
"Now," replied Lupin, "I am going to take a rest, enjoy the best of
food and drink and gradually recover my former healthy condition.
It is all very well to become Baudru or some other person, on
occasion, and to change your personality as you do your shirt, but
you soon grow weary of the change. I feel exactly as I imagine the
man who lost his shadow must have felt, and I shall be glad to be
Arsene Lupin once more."
He walked to and fro for a few minutes, then, stopping in front of
Ganimard, he said:
"You have nothing more to say, I suppose?"
"Yes. I should like to know if you intend to reveal the true state
of facts connected with your escape. The mistake that I made---"
"Oh! no one will ever know that it was Arsene Lupin who was
discharged. It is to my own interest to surround myself with
mystery, and therefore I shall permit my escape to retain its
almost miraculous character. So, have no fear on that score, my
dear friend. I shall say nothing. And now, good-bye. I am going
out to dinner this evening, and have only sufficient time to
dress."
"I though you wanted a rest."
"Ah! there are duties to society that one cannot avoid. To-morrow,
I shall rest."
"Where do you dine to-night?"
"With the British Ambassador!"
IV. The Mysterious Traveller
The evening before, I had sent my automobile to Rouen by the
highway. I was to travel to Rouen by rail, on my way to visit some
friends that live on the banks of the Seine.
At Paris, a few minutes before the train started, seven gentlemen
entered my compartment; five of them were smoking. No matter that
the journey was a short one, the thought of traveling with such a
company was not agreeable to me, especially as the car was built
on the old model, without a corridor. I picked up my overcoat, my
newspapers and my time-table, and sought refuge in a neighboring
compartment.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 | 4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13