CHAPTER XIX
FIAT LUX!
On the evening of the same day, Patrice was pacing up and down the Quaide Passy. It was nearly six o'clock. From time to time, a tram-carpassed, or some motor-lorry. There were very few people about on foot.Patrice had the pavement almost to himself.
He had not seen Don Luis Perenna since the morning, had merely receiveda line in which Don Luis asked him to have Ya-Bon's body moved into theEssares' house and afterwards to meet him on the quay above Berthou'sWharf. The time appointed for the meeting was near at hand and Patricewas looking forward to this interview in which the truth would berevealed to him at last. He partly guessed the truth, but no littledarkness and any number of unsolved problems remained. The tragedy wasplayed out. The curtain had fallen on the villain's death. All was well:there was nothing more to fear, no more pitfalls in store for them. Theformidable enemy was laid low. But Patrice's anxiety was intense as hewaited for the moment when light would be cast freely and fully upon thetragedy.
"A few words," he said to himself, "a few words from that incredibleperson known as Arsene Lupin, will clear up the mystery. It will nottake him long. He will be gone in an hour. Will he take the secret ofthe gold with him, I wonder? Will he solve the secret of the goldentriangle for me? And how will he keep the gold for himself? How will hetake it away?"
A motor-car arrived from the direction of the Trocadero. It slowed downand stopped beside the pavement. It must be Don Luis, thought Patrice.But, to his great surprise, he recognized M. Masseron, who opened thedoor and came towards him with outstretched hand:
"Well, captain, how are you? I'm punctual for the appointment, am I not?But, I say, have you been wounded in the head again?"
"Yes, an accident of no importance," replied Patrice. "But whatappointment are you speaking of?"
"Why, the one you gave me, of course!"
"I gave you no appointment."
"Oh, I say!" said M. Masseron. "What does this mean? Why, here's thenote they brought me at the police-office: 'Captain Belval's complimentsto M. Masseron. The problem of the golden triangle is solved. Theeighteen hundred bags are at his disposal. Will he please come to theQuai de Passy, at six o'clock, with full powers from the government toaccept the conditions of delivery. It would be well if he brought withhim twenty powerful detectives, of whom half should be posted a hundredyards on one side of Essares' property and the other half on the other.'There you are. Is it clear?"
"Perfectly clear," said Patrice, "but I never sent you that note."
"Who sent it then?"
"An extraordinary man who deciphered all those problems like so manychildren's riddles and who certainly will be here himself to bring youthe solution."
"What's his name?"
"I sha'n't say."
"Oh, I don't know about that! Secrets are hard to keep in war-time."
"Very easy, on the contrary, sir," said a voice behind M. Masseron. "Allyou need do is to make up your mind to it."
M. Masseron and Patrice turned round and saw a gentleman dressed in along, black overcoat, cut like a frock-coat, and a tall collar whichgave him a look of an English clergyman.
"This is the friend I was speaking of," said Patrice, though he had somedifficulty in recognizing Don Luis. "He twice saved my life and alsothat of the lady whom I am going to marry. I will answer for him inevery respect."
M. Masseron bowed; and Don Luis at once began, speaking with a slightaccent:
"Sir, your time is valuable and so is mine, for I am leaving Paristo-night and France to-morrow. My explanation therefore will be brief. Iwill pass over the drama itself, of which you have followed the mainvicissitudes so far. It came to an end this morning. Captain Belval willtell you all about it. I will merely add that our poor Ya-Bon is deadand that you will find three other bodies: that of Gregoire, whose realname was Mme. Mosgranem, in the barge over there; that of one Vacherot,a hall-porter, in some corner of a block of flats at 18, Rue Guimard;and lastly the body of Simeon Diodokis, in Dr. Geradec's privatehospital on the Boulevard de Montmorency."
"Old Simeon?" asked M. Masseron in great surprise.
"Old Simeon has killed himself. Captain Belval will give you everypossible information about that person and his real identity; and Ithink you will agree with me that this business will have to be hushedup. But, as I said, we will pass over all this. There remains thequestion of the gold, which, if I am not mistaken, interests you morethan anything else. Have you brought your men?"
"Yes, I have. But why? The hiding-place, even after you have told mewhere it is, will be what it was before, undiscovered by those who donot know it."
"Certainly; but, as the number of those who do know it increases, thesecret may slip out. In any case that is one of my two conditions."
"As you see, it is accepted. What is the other?"
"A more serious condition, sir, so serious indeed that, whatever powersmay have been conferred upon you, I doubt whether they will besufficient."
"Let me hear; then we shall see."
"Very well."
And Don Luis, speaking in a phlegmatic tone, as though he were tellingthe most unimportant story, calmly set forth his incredible proposal:
"Two months ago, sir, thanks to my connection with the Near East and tomy influence in certain Ottoman circles, I persuaded the clique whichrules Turkey to-day to accept the idea of a separate peace. It wassimply a question of a few hundred millions for distribution. I had theoffer transmitted to the Allies, who rejected it, certainly not forfinancial reasons, but for reasons of policy, which it is not for me tojudge. But I am not content to suffer this little diplomatic check. Ifailed in my first negotiation; I do not mean to fail in the second.That is why I am taking my precautions."
He paused and then resumed, while his voice took on a rather moreserious tone:
"At this moment, in April, 1915, as you are well aware, conferences arein progress between the Allies and the last of the great European powersthat has remained neutral. These conferences are going to succeed; andthey will succeed because the future of that power demands it andbecause the whole nation is uplifted with enthusiasm. Among thequestions raised is one which forms the object of a certain divergencyof opinion. I mean the question of money. This foreign power is askingus for a loan of three hundred million francs in gold, while making itquite clear that a refusal on our part would in no way affect a decisionwhich is already irrevocably taken. Well, I have three hundred millionsin gold; I have them at my command; and I desire to place them at thedisposal of our new allies. This is my second and, in reality, my onlycondition."
M. Masseron seemed utterly taken aback:
"But, my dear sir," he said, "these are matters quite outside ourprovince; they must be examined and decided by others, not by us."
"Every one has the right to dispose of his money as he pleases."
M. Masseron made a gesture of distress:
"Come, sir, think a moment. You yourself said that this power was onlyputting forward the question as a secondary one."
"Yes, but the mere fact that it is being discussed will delay theconclusion of the agreement for a few days."
"Well, a few days will make no difference, surely?"
"Sir, a few hours _will_ make a difference."
"But why?"
"For a reason which you do not know and which nobody knows . . . exceptmyself and a few people some fifteen hundred miles away."
"What reason?"
"The Russians have no munitions left."
M. Masseron shrugged his shoulders impatiently. What had all this to dowith the matter?
"The Russians have no munitions left," repeated Don Luis. "Now there isa tremendous battle being fought over there, a battle which will bedecided not many hours hence. The Russian front will be broken and theRussian troops will retreat and retreat . . . Heaven knows when they'llstop retreating! Of course, this assured, this inevitable contingencywill have no influence on the wishes of the great power of which we aretalking. N
evertheless, that nation has in its midst a very considerableparty on the side of neutrality, a party which is held in check, butnone the less violent for that. Think what a weapon you will place inits hands by postponing the agreement! Think of the difficulties whichyou are making for rulers preparing to go to war! It would be anunpardonable mistake, from which I wish to save my country. That is whyI have laid down this condition."
M. Masseron seemed quite discomforted. Waving his hands and shaking hishead, he mumbled:
"It's impossible. Such a condition as that will never be accepted. Itwill take time, it will need discussion. . . ."
A hand was laid on his arm by some one who had come up a moment beforeand who had listened to Don Luis' little speech. Its owner had alightedfrom a car which was waiting some way off; and, to Patrice's greatastonishment, his presence had aroused no opposition on the part ofeither M. Masseron or Don Luis Perenna. He was a man well-advanced inyears, with a powerful, lined face.
"My dear Masseron," he said, "it seems to me that you are not looking atthe question from the right point of view."
"That's what I think, monsieur le president," said Don Luis.
"Ah, do you know me, sir?"
"M. Valenglay, I believe? I had the honor of calling on you some yearsago, sir, when you were president of the council."
"Yes, I thought I remembered . . . though I can't say exactly . . ."
"Please don't tax your memory, sir. The past does not concern us. Whatmatters is that you should be of my opinion."
"I don't know that I am of your opinion. But I consider that this makesno difference. And that is what I was telling you, my dear Masseron.It's not a question of knowing whether you ought to discuss thisgentleman's conditions. It's a question of accepting them or refusingthem without discussion. There's no bargain to be driven in thecircumstances. A bargain presupposes that each party has something tooffer. Now we have no offer to make, whereas this gentleman comes withhis offer in his hand and says, 'Would you like three hundred millionfrancs in gold? In that case you must do so-and-so with it. If thatdoesn't suit you, good-evening.' That's the position, isn't it,Masseron?"
"Yes, monsieur le president."
"Well, can you dispense with our friend here? Can you, without hisassistance, find the place where the gold is hidden? Observe that hemakes things very easy for you by bringing you to the place and almostpointing out the exact spot to you. Is that enough? Have you any hope ofdiscovering the secret which you have been seeking for weeks andmonths?"
M. Masseron was very frank in his reply:
"No, monsieur le president," he said, plainly and without hesitation.
"Well, then. . . ."
And, turning to Don Luis:
"And you, sir," Valenglay asked, "is it your last word?"
"My last word."
"If we refuse . . . good-evening?"
"You have stated the case precisely, monsieur le president."
"And, if we accept, will the gold be handed over at once?"
"At once."
"We accept."
And, after a slight pause, he repeated:
"We accept. The ambassador shall receive his instructions thisevening."
"Do you give me your word, sir?"
"I give you my word."
"In that case, we are agreed."
"We are agreed. Now then! . . ."
All these sentences were uttered rapidly. Not five minutes had elapsedsince the former prime minister had appeared upon the scene. Nothingremained to do but for Don Luis to keep his promise.
It was a solemn moment. The four men were standing close together, likeacquaintances who have met in the course of a walk and who stop for aminute to exchange their news. Valenglay, leaning with one arm on theparapet overlooking the lower quay, had his face turned to the river andkept raising and lowering his cane above the sand-heap. Patrice and M.Masseron stood silent, with faces a little set.
Don Luis gave a laugh:
"Don't be too sure, monsieur le president," he said, "that I shall makethe gold rise from the ground with a magic wand or show you a cave inwhich the bags lie stacked. I always thought those words, 'the goldentriangle,' misleading, because they suggest something mysterious andfabulous. Now according to me it was simply a question of the spacecontaining the gold, which space would have the shape of a triangle. Thegolden triangle, that's it: bags of gold arranged in a triangle, atriangular site. The reality is much simpler, therefore; and you willperhaps be disappointed."
"I sha'n't be," said Valenglay, "if you put me with my face towards theeighteen hundred bags of gold."
"You're that now, sir."
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I say. Short of touching the bags of gold, it would bedifficult to be nearer to them than you are."
For all his self-control, Valenglay could not conceal his surprise:
"You are not suggesting, I suppose, that I am walking on gold and thatwe have only to lift up the flags of the pavement or to break down thisparapet?"
"That would be removing obstacles, sir, whereas there is no obstaclebetween you and what you are seeking."
"No obstacle!"
"None, monsieur le president, for you have only to make the least littlemovement in order to touch the bags."
"The least little movement!" said Valenglay, mechanically repeating DonLuis' words.
"I call a little movement what one can make without an effort, almostwithout stirring, such as dipping one's stick into a sheet of water, forinstance, or . . ."
"Or what?"
"Well, or a heap of sand."
Valenglay remained silent and impassive, with at most a slight shiverpassing across his shoulders. He did not make the suggested movement. Hehad no need to make it. He understood.
The others also did not speak a word, struck dumb by the simplicity ofthe amazing truth which had suddenly flashed upon them like lightning.And, amid this silence, unbroken by protest or sign of incredulity, DonLuis went on quietly talking:
"If you had the least doubt, monsieur le president--and I see that youhave not--you would dig your cane, no great distance, twenty inches atmost, into the sand beneath you. You would then encounter a resistancewhich would compel you to stop. That is the bags of gold. There ought tobe eighteen hundred of them; and, as you see, they do not make anenormous heap. A kilogram of gold represents three thousand one hundredfrancs. Therefore, according to my calculation, a bag containingapproximately fifty kilograms, or one hundred and fifty-five thousandfrancs done up in rouleaus of a thousand francs, is not a very largebag. Piled one against the other and one on top of the other, the bagsrepresent a bulk of about fifteen cubic yards, no more. If you shape themass roughly like a triangular pyramid you will have a base each ofwhose sides would be three yards long at most, or three yards and a halfallowing for the space lost between the rouleaus of coins. The heightwill be that of the wall, nearly. Cover the whole with a layer of sandand you have the heap which lies before your eyes . . ."
Don Luis paused once more before continuing:
"And which has been there for months, monsieur le president, safe fromdiscovery not only by those who were looking for it, but also byaccident on the part of a casual passer-by. Just think, a heap of sand!Who would dream of digging a hole in it to see what is going on inside?The dogs sniff at it, the children play beside it and make mudpies, anoccasional tramp lies down against it and takes a snooze. The rainsoftens it, the sun hardens it, the snow whitens it all over; but allthis happens on the surface, in the part that shows. Inside reignsimpenetrable mystery, darkness unexplored. There is not a hiding-placein the world to equal the inside of a sand heap exposed to view in apublic place. The man who thought of using it to hide three hundredmillions of gold, monsieur le president, knew what he was about."
The late prime minister had listened to Don Luis' explanation withoutinterrupting him. When Don Luis had finished, Valenglay nodded his headonce or twice and said:
"He did indeed. But there is
one man who is cleverer still."
"I don't believe it."
"Yes, there's the man who guessed that the heap of sand concealed thethree hundred million francs. That man is a master, before whom we mustall bow."
Flattered by the compliment, Don Luis raised his hat. Valenglay gave himhis hand:
"I can think of no reward worthy of the service which you have done thecountry."
"I ask for no reward," said Don Luis.
"I daresay, sir, but I should wish you at least to be thanked by voicesthat carry more weight than mine."
"Is it really necessary, monsieur le president?"
"I consider it essential. May I also confess that I am curious to learnhow you discovered the secret? I should be glad, therefore, if you wouldcall at my department in an hour's time."
"I am very sorry, sir, but I shall be gone in fifteen minutes."
"No, no, you can't go like this," said Valenglay, with authority.
"Why not, sir?"
"Well, because we don't know your name or anything about you."
"That makes so little difference!"
"In peace-time, perhaps. But, in war-time, it won't do at all."
"Surely, monsieur le president, you will make an exception in my case?"
"An exception, indeed? What next?"
"Suppose it's the reward which I ask, will you refuse me then?"
"It's the only one which we are obliged to refuse you. However, youwon't ask for it. A good citizen like yourself understands theconstraints to which everybody is bound to submit. My dear Masseron,arrange it with this gentleman. At the department in an hour from now.Good-by till then, sir. I shall expect you."
And, after a very civil bow, he walked away to his car, twirling hisstick gaily and escorted by M. Masseron.
"Well, on my soul!" chuckled Don Luis. "There's a character for you! Inthe twinkling of an eye, he accepts three hundred millions in gold,signs an epoch-making treaty and orders the arrest of Arsene Lupin!"
"What do you mean?" cried Patrice, startled out of his life. "Yourarrest?"
"Well, he orders me to appear before him, to produce my papers and thedevil knows what."
"But that's monstrous!"
"It's the law of the land, my dear captain. We must bow to it."
"But . . ."
"Captain, believe me when I say that a few little worries of this sortdeprive me of none of the whole-hearted satisfaction which I feel atrendering this great service to my country. I wanted, during the war, todo something for France and to make the most of the time which I wasable to devote to her during my stay. I've done it. And then I haveanother reward: the four millions. For I think highly enough of yourCoralie to believe her incapable of wishing to touch this money . . .which is really her property."
"I'll go bail for her over that."
"Thank you. And you may be sure that the gift will be well employed. Soeverything is settled. I have still a few minutes to give you. Let usturn them to good account. M. Masseron is collecting his men by now. Tosimplify their task and avoid a scandal, we'll go down to the lowerquay, by the sand-heap. It'll be easier for him to collar me there."
"I accept your few minutes," said Patrice, as they went down the steps."But first of all I want to apologize . . ."
"For what? For behaving a little treacherously and locking me into thestudio of the lodge? You couldn't help yourself: you were trying toassist your Coralie. For thinking me capable of keeping the treasure onthe day when I discovered it? You couldn't help that either: how couldyou imagine that Arsene Lupin would despise three hundred millionfrancs?"
"Very well, no apologies," said Patrice, laughing. "But all my thanks."
"For what? For saving your life and saving Coralie's? Don't thank me.It's a hobby of mine, saving people."
Patrice took Don Luis' hand and pressed it firmly. Then, in a chaffingtone which hid his emotion, he said:
"Then I won't thank you. I won't tell you that you rid me of a hideousnightmare by letting me know that I was not that monster's son and byunveiling his real identity. I will not tell you either that I am ahappy man now that life is opening radiantly before me, with Coraliefree to love me. No, we won't talk of it. But shall I confess to youthat my happiness is still a little--what shall I say?--a little dim, alittle timid? I no longer feel any doubt; but in spite of all, I don'tquite understand the truth, and, until I do understand it, the truthwill cause me some anxiety. So tell me . . . explain to me . . . I wantto know . . ."
"And yet the truth is so obvious!" cried Don Luis. "The most complextruths are always so simple! Look here, don't you understand anything?Just think of the way in which the problem is set. For sixteen oreighteen years, Simeon Diodokis behaves like a perfect friend, devotedto the pitch of self-denial, in short, like a father. He has not athought, outside that of his revenge, but to secure your happiness andCoralie's. He wants to bring you together. He collects your photographs.He follows the whole course of your life. He almost gets into touch withyou. He sends you the key of the garden and prepares a meeting.Then, suddenly, a complete change takes place. He becomes yourinveterate enemy and thinks of nothing but killing the pair of you. Whatis there that separates those two states of mind? One fact, that's all,or rather one date, the night of the third of April and the tragedy thattakes place that night and the following day at Essares' house. Untilthat date, you were Simeon Diodokis' son. After that date, you wereSimeon Diodokis' greatest enemy. Does that suggest nothing to you? It'sreally curious. As for me, all my discoveries are due to this generalview of the case which I took from the beginning."
Patrice shook his head without replying. He did not understand. Theriddle retained a part of its unfathomable secret.
"Sit down there," said Don Luis, "on our famous sand-heap, and listen tome. It won't take me ten minutes."
They were on Berthou's Wharf. The light was beginning to wane and theoutlines on the opposite bank of the river were becoming indistinct. Thebarge rocked lazily at the edge of the quay.
Don Luis expressed himself in the following terms:
"On the evening when, from the inner gallery of the library, youwitnessed the tragedy at Essares' house, you saw before your eyes twomen bound by their accomplices: Essares Bey and Simeon Diodokis. Theyare both dead. One of them was your father. Let us speak first of theother. Essares Bey's position was a critical one that evening. Afterdraining our gold currency on behalf of an eastern power, he was tryingto filch the remainder of the millions of francs collected. The _BelleHelene_, summoned by the rain of sparks, was lying moored alongsideBerthou's Wharf. The gold was to be shifted at night from the sand-bagsto the motor-barge. All was going well, when the accomplices, warned bySimeon, broke in. Thereupon we have the blackmailing-scene, ColonelFakhi's death and so on, with Essares learning at one and the same timethat his accomplices knew of his schemes and his plan to pilfer the goldand also that Colonel Fakhi had informed the police about him. He wascornered. What could he do? Run away? But, in war-time, running away isalmost impossible. Besides, running away meant giving up the gold andlikewise giving up Coralie, which would never have done. So there wasonly one thing, to disappear from sight. To disappear from sight and yetto remain there, on the battlefield, near the gold and near Coralie.Night came; and he employed it in carrying out his plan. So much forEssares. We now come to Simeon Diodokis."
Don Luis stopped to take breath. Patrice had been listening eagerly, asthough each word had brought its share of light into the oppressivedarkness.
"The man who was known as old Simeon," continued Don Luis, "that is tosay, your father, Armand Belval, a former victim, together withCoralie's mother, of Essares Bey, had also reached a turning-point ofhis career. He was nearly achieving his object. He had betrayed anddelivered his enemy, Essares, into the hands of Colonel Fakhi and theaccomplices. He had succeeded in bringing you and Coralie together. Hehad sent you the key of the lodge. He was justified in hoping that, ina few days more, everything would end according to his wishes. But
, nextmorning, on waking, certain indications unknown to me revealed to him athreatening danger; and he no doubt foresaw the plan which Essares wasengaged in elaborating. And he too put himself the same question: Whatwas he to do? What was there for him to do? He must warn you, warn youwithout delay, telephone to you at once. For time was pressing, thedanger was becoming definite. Essares was watching and hunting down theman whom he had chosen as his victim for the second time. You canpicture Simeon possibly feeling himself pursued and locking himself intothe library. You can picture him wondering whether he would ever be ableto telephone to you and whether you would be there. He asks for you. Hecalls out to you. Essares hammers away at the door. And your father,gasping for breath, shouts, 'Is that you, Patrice? Have you the key?. . . And the letter? . . . No? . . . But this is terrible! Then youdon't know' . . . And then a hoarse cry, which you hear at your end ofthe wire, and incoherent noises, the sound of an altercation. And thenthe lips gluing themselves to the instrument and stammering words atrandom: 'Patrice, the amethyst pendant . . . Patrice, I should so muchhave liked . . . Patrice, Coralie!' Then a loud scream . . . cries thatgrow weaker and weaker . . . silence, and that is all. Your father isdead, murdered. This time, Essares Bey, who had failed before, in thelodge, took his revenge on his old rival."
"Oh, my unhappy father!" murmured Patrice, in great distress.
"Yes, it was he. That was at nineteen minutes past seven in the morning,as you noted. A few minutes later, eager to know and understand, youyourself rang up; and it was Essares who replied, with your father'sdead body at his feet."
"Oh, the scoundrel! So that this body, which we did not find and werenot able to find . . ."
"Was simply made up by Essares, made up, disfigured, transformed intohis own likeness. That, captain, is how--and the whole mystery lies inthis--Simeon Diodokis, dead, became Essares Bey, while Essares Bey,transformed into Simeon Diodokis, played the part of Simeon Diodokis."
"Yes," said Patrice, "I see, I understand."
"As to the relations existing between the two men," continued Don Luis,"I am not certain. Essares may or may not have known before that oldSimeon was none other than his former rival, the lover of Coralie'smother, the man in short who had escaped death. He may or may not haveknown that Simeon was your father. These are points which will never bedecided and which, moreover, do not matter. What I do take for grantedis that this new murder was not improvised on the spot. I firmly believethat Essares, having noticed certain similarities in height and figure,had made every preparation to take Simeon's place if circumstancesobliged him to disappear. And it was easily done. Simeon Diodokis wore awig and no beard. Essares, on the contrary, was bald-headed and had abeard. He shaved himself, smashed Simeon's face against the grate,mingled the hairs of his own beard with the bleeding mass, dressed thebody in his clothes, took his victim's clothes for himself, put on thewig, the spectacles and the comforter. The transformation was complete."
Patrice thought for a moment. Then he raised an objection:
"Yes, that's what happened at nineteen minutes past seven. But somethingelse happened at twenty-three minutes past twelve."
"No, nothing at all."
"But that clock, which stopped at twenty-three minutes past twelve?"
"I tell you, nothing happened at all. Only, he had to put people off thescent. He had above all to avoid the inevitable accusation that wouldhave been brought against the new Simeon."
"What accusation?"
"What accusation? Why, that he had killed Essares Bey, of course! A deadbody is discovered in the morning. Who has committed the murder?Suspicion would at once have fallen on Simeon. He would have beenquestioned and arrested. And Essares would have been found underSimeon's mask. No, he needed liberty and facilities to move about as hepleased. To achieve this, he kept the murder concealed all the morningand arranged so that no one set foot in the library. He went three timesand knocked at his wife's door, so that she should say that Essares Beywas still alive during the morning. Then, when she went out, he raisedhis voice and ordered Simeon, in other words himself, to see her to thehospital in the Champs-Elysees. And in this way Mme. Essares thoughtthat she was leaving her husband behind her alive and that she wasescorted by old Simeon, whereas actually she was leaving old Simeon'scorpse in an empty part of the house and was escorted by her husband.Then what happened? What the rascal had planned. At one o'clock, thepolice, acting on the information laid by Colonel Fakhi, arrived andfound themselves in the presence of a corpse. Whose corpse? There wasnot a shadow of hesitation on that point. The maids recognized theirmaster; and, when Mme. Essares returned, it was her husband whom she sawlying in front of the fireplace at which he had been tortured the nightbefore. Old Simeon, that is to say, Essares himself, helped to establishthe identification. You yourself were taken in. The trick was played."
"Yes," said Patrice, nodding his head, "that is how things must havegone. They all fit in."
"The trick was played," Don Luis repeated, "and nobody could make outhow it was done. Was there not this further proof, the letter written inEssares' own hand and found on his desk? The letter was dated at twelveo'clock on the fourth of April, addressed to his wife, and told her thathe was going away. Better still, the trick was so successfully playedthat the very clues which ought to have revealed the truth merelyconcealed it. For instance, your father used to carry a tiny album ofphotographs in a pocket stitched inside his under-vest. Essares did notnotice it and did not remove the vest from the body. Well, when theyfound the album, they at once accepted that most unlikely hypothesis:Essares Bey carrying on his person an album filled with photographs ofhis wife and Captain Belval! In the same way, when they found in thedead man's hand an amethyst pendant containing your two latestphotographs and when they also found a crumpled paper with something onit about the golden triangle, they at once admitted that Essares Bey hadstolen the pendant and the document and was holding them in his handwhen he died! So absolutely certain were they all that it was EssaresBey who had been murdered, that his dead body lay before their eyes andthat they must not trouble about the question any longer. And in thisway the new Simeon was master of the situation. Essares Bey is dead,long live Simeon!"
Don Luis indulged in a hearty laugh. The adventure struck him as reallyamusing.
"Then and there," he went on, "Essares, behind his impenetrable mask,set to work. That very day he listened to your conversation with Coralieand, overcome with fury at seeing you bend over her, fired a shot fromhis revolver. But, when this new attempt failed, he ran away and playedan elaborate comedy near the little door in the garden, crying murder,tossing the key over the wall to lay a false scent and falling to theground half dead, as though he had been strangled by the enemy who wassupposed to have fired the shot. The comedy ended with a skilfulassumption of madness."
"But what was the object of this madness?"
"What was the object? Why, to make people leave him alone and keep themfrom questioning him or suspecting him. Once he was looked upon as mad,he could remain silent and unobserved. Otherwise, Mme. Essares wouldhave recognized his voice at the first words he spoke, however cleverlyhe might have altered his tone. From this time onward, he is mad. He isan irresponsible being. He goes about as he pleases. He is a madman! Andhis madness is so thoroughly admitted that he leads you, so to speak, bythe hand to his former accomplices and causes you to have them arrested,without asking yourself for an instant if this madman is not acting withthe clearest possible sense of his own interest. He's a madman, a poor,harmless madman, one of those unfortunates with whom nobody dreams ofinterfering. Henceforth, he has only his last two adversaries to fight:Coralie and you. And this is an easy matter for him. I presume that hegot hold of a diary kept by your father. At any rate, he knows every dayof the one which you keep. From this he learns the whole story of thegraves; and he knows that, on the fourteenth of April, Coralie and youare both going on a pilgrimage to those graves. Besides, he plans tomake you go there, for his plot is laid. He prepares
against the son andthe daughter, against the Patrice and Coralie of to-day, the attemptwhich he once prepared against the father and the mother. The attemptsucceeds at the start. It would have succeeded to the end, but for anidea that occurred to our poor Ya-Bon, thanks to which a new adversary,in the person of myself, entered the lists. . . . But I need hardly goon. You know the rest as well as I do; and, like myself, you can judgein all his glory the inhuman villain who, in the space of thosetwenty-four hours, allowed his accomplice Gregoire to be strangled,buried your Coralie under the sand-heap, killed Ya-Bon, locked me in thelodge, or thought he did, buried you alive in the grave dug by yourfather and made away with Vacherot, the porter. And now, CaptainBelval, do you think that I ought to have prevented him from committingsuicide, this pretty gentleman who, in the last resort, was trying topass himself off as your father?"
"You were right," said Patrice. "You have been right all through, fromstart to finish. I see it all now, as a whole and in every detail. Onlyone point remains: the golden triangle. How did you find out the truth?What was it that brought you to this sand-heap and enabled you to saveCoralie from the most awful death?"
"Oh, that part was even simpler," replied Don Luis, "and the light camealmost without my knowing it! I'll tell it you in a few words. But letus move away first. M. Masseron and his men are becoming a littletroublesome."
The detectives were distributed at the two entrances to Berthou's Wharf.M. Masseron was giving them his instructions. He was obviously speakingto them of Don Luis and preparing to accost him.
"Let's get on the barge," said Don Luis. "I've left some importantpapers there."
Patrice followed him. Opposite the cabin containing Gregoire's body wasanother cabin, reached by the same companion-way. It was furnished witha table and a chair.
"Here, captain," said Don Luis, taking a letter from the drawer of thetable and settling it, "is a letter which I will ask you to . . . butdon't let us waste words. I shall hardly have time to satisfy yourcuriosity. Our friends are coming nearer. Well, we were saying, thegolden triangle . . ."
He listened to what was happening outside with an attention whose realmeaning Patrice was soon to understand. And, continuing to give ear, heresumed:
"The golden triangle? There are problems which we solve more or less byaccident, without trying. We are guided to a right solution by externalevents, among which we choose unconsciously, feeling our way in thedark, examining this one, thrusting aside that one and suddenlybeholding the object aimed at. . . . Well, this morning, after takingyou to the tombs and burying you under the stone, Essares Bey came backto me. Believing me to be locked into the studio, he had the prettythought to turn on the gas-meter and then went off to the quay aboveBerthou's Wharf. Here he hesitated; and his hesitation provided me witha precious clue. He was certainly then thinking of releasing Coralie.People passed and he went away. Knowing where he was going, I returnedto your assistance, told your friends at Essares' house and asked themto look after you. Then I came back here. Indeed, the whole course ofevents obliged me to come back. It was unlikely that the bags of goldwere inside the conduit; and, as the _Belle Helene_ had not taken themoff, they must be beyond the garden, outside the conduit and thereforesomewhere near here. I explored the barge we are now on, not so muchwith the object of looking for the bags as with the hope of finding someunexpected piece of information and also, I confess, the four millionsin Gregoire's possession. Well, when I start exploring a place where Ifail to find what I want, I always remember that capital story of EdgarAllan Poe's, _The Purloined Letter_. Do you recollect? The stolendiplomatic document which was known to be hidden in a certain room. Thepolice investigate every nook and corner of the room and take up all theboards of the floor, without results. But Dupin arrives and almostimmediately goes to a card-rack dangling from a little brass knob on thewall and containing a solitary soiled and crumpled letter. This is thedocument of which he was in search. Well, I instinctively adopted thesame process. I looked where no one would dream of looking, in placeswhich do not constitute a hiding-place because it would really be tooeasy to discover. This gave me the idea of turning the pages of four olddirectories standing in a row on that shelf. The four millions werethere. And I knew all that I wanted to know."
"About what?"
"About Essares' temperament, his habits, the extent of his attainments,his notion of a good hiding-place. We had plunged on the expectation ofmeeting with difficulties; we ought to have looked at the outside, tohave looked at the surface of things. I was assisted by two furtherclues. I had noticed that the uprights of the ladder which Ya-Bon musthave taken from here had a few grains of sand on them. Lastly, Iremembered that Ya-Bon had drawn a triangle on the pavement with a pieceof chalk and that this triangle had only two sides, the third side beingformed by the foot of the wall. Why this detail? Why not a third line inchalk? . . . To make a long story short, I lit a cigarette, sat downupstairs, on the deck of the barge, and, looking round me, said tomyself, 'Lupin, my son, five minutes and no more.' When I say, 'Lupin,my son,' I simply can't resist myself. By the time I had smoked aquarter of the cigarette, I was there."
"You had found out?"
"I had found out. I can't say which of the factors at my disposalkindled the spark. No doubt it was all of them together. It's a rathercomplicated psychological operation, you know, like a chemicalexperiment. The correct idea is formed suddenly by mysterious reactionsand combinations among the elements in which it existed in a potentialstage. And then I was carrying within myself an intuitive principle, avery special incentive which obliged me, which inevitably compelled me,to discover the hiding-place: Little Mother Coralie was there! I knewfor certain that failure on my part, prolonged weakness or hesitationwould mean her destruction. There was a woman there, within a radius ofa dozen yards or so. I had to find out and I found out. The spark waskindled. The elements combined. And I made straight for the sand-heap. Iat once saw the marks of footsteps and, almost at the top, the signs ofa slight stamping. I started digging. You can imagine my excitement whenI first touched one of the bags. But I had no time for excitement. Ishifted a few bags. Coralie was there, unconscious, hardly protectedfrom the sand which was slowly stifling her, trickling through, stoppingup her eyes, suffocating her. I needn't tell you more, need I? The wharfwas deserted, as usual. I got her out. I hailed a taxi. I first took herhome. Then I turned my attention to Essares, to Vacherot the porter;and, when I had discovered our enemy's plans, I went and made myarrangements with Dr. Geradec. Lastly, I had you moved to the privatehospital on the Boulevard de Montmorency and gave orders for Coralie tobe taken there too. And there you are, captain! All done in three hours.When the doctor's car brought me back to the hospital, Essares arrivedat the same time, to have his injuries seen to. I had him safe."
Don Luis ceased speaking. There were no words necessary between the twomen. One had done the other the greatest services which a man has it inhis power to render; and the other knew that these were services forwhich no thanks are adequate. And he also knew that he would never havean opportunity to prove his gratitude. Don Luis was in a manner abovethose proofs, owing to the mere fact that they were impossible. Therewas no service to be rendered to a man like him, disposing of hisresources and performing miracles with the same ease with which weperform the trivial actions of everyday life.
Patrice once again pressed his hand warmly, without a word. Don Luisaccepted the homage of this silent emotion and said:
"If ever people talk of Arsene Lupin before you, captain, say a goodword for him, won't you? He deserves it." And he added, with a laugh,"It's funny, but, as I get on in life, I find myself caring about myreputation. The devil was old, the devil a monk would be!"
He pricked up his ears and, after a moment, said:
"Captain, it is time for us to part. Present my respects to LittleMother Coralie. I shall not have known her, so to speak, and she willnot know me. It is better so. Good-by, captain."
"Then we are taking leave of each other?"
"Yes, I hear M. Masseron. Go to him, will you, and have the kindness tobring him here?"
Patrice hesitated. Why was Don Luis sending him to meet M. Masseron? Wasit so that he, Patrice, might intervene in his favor?
The idea appealed to him; and he ran up the companion-way.
Then a thing happened which Patrice was destined never to understand,something very quick and quite inexplicable. It was as though a long andgloomy adventure were to finish suddenly with melodramaticunexpectedness.
Patrice met M. Masseron on the deck of the barge.
"Is your friend here?" asked the magistrate.
"Yes. But one word first: you don't mean to . . . ?"
"Have no fear. We shall do him no harm, on the contrary."
The answer was so definite that the officer could find nothing more tosay. M. Masseron went down first, with Patrice following him.
"Hullo!" said Patrice. "I left the cabin-door open!"
He pushed the door. It opened. But Don Luis was no longer in the cabin.
Immediate enquiries showed that no one had seen him go, neither the menremaining on the wharf nor those who had already crossed the gangway.
"When you have time to examine this barge thoroughly," said Patrice,"I've no doubt you will find it pretty nicely faked."
"So your friend has probably escaped through some trap-door and swumaway?" asked M. Masseron, who seemed greatly annoyed.
"I expect so," said Patrice, laughing. "Unless he's gone off on asubmarine!"
"A submarine in the Seine?"
"Why not? I don't believe that there's any limit to my friend'sresourcefulness and determination."
But what completely dumbfounded M. Masseron was the discovery, on thetable, of a letter directed to himself, the letter which Don Luis hadplaced there at the beginning of his interview with Patrice.
"Then he knew that I should come here? He foresaw, even before we met,that I should ask him to fulfil certain formalities?"
The letter ran as follows:
"_Sir_,
"Forgive my departure and believe that I, on my side, quite understand the reason that brings you here. My position is not in fact regular; and you are entitled to ask me for an explanation. I will give you that explanation some day or other. You will then see that, if I serve France in a manner of my own, that manner is not a bad one and that my country will owe me some gratitude for the immense services, if I may venture to use the word, which I have done her during this war. On the day of our interview, I should like you to thank me, sir. You will then--for I know your secret ambition--be prefect of police. Perhaps I shall even be able personally to forward a nomination which I consider well-deserved. I will exert myself in that direction without delay.
"I have the honor to be, etc."
M. Masseron remained silent for a time.
"A strange character!" he said, at last. "Had he been willing, we shouldhave given him great things to do. That was what I was instructed totell him."
"You may be sure, sir," said Patrice, "that the things which he isactually doing are greater still." And he added, "A strange character,as you say. And stranger still, more powerful and more extraordinarythan you can imagine. If each of the allied nations had had three orfour men of his stamp at its disposal, the war would have been over insix months."
"I quite agree," said M. Masseron. "Only those men are usually solitary,intractable people, who act solely upon their own judgment and refuse toaccept any authority. I'll tell you what: they're something like thatfamous adventurer who, a few years ago, compelled the Kaiser to visithim in prison and obtain his release . . . and afterwards, owing to adisappointment in love, threw himself into the sea from the cliffs atCapri."
"Who was that?"
"Oh, you know the fellow's name as well as I do! . . . Lupin, that's it:Arsene Lupin."
THE END
Transcriber's Note: The following typographical errors present in theoriginal edition have been corrected.
In Chapter II, a missing quotation mark was added before "Why, what'sthe matter?"
In Chapter III, "never uttered a compaint" was changed to "never uttereda complaint".
In Chapter V, "Bourney turned this fifth rose" was changed to "Bournefturned this fifth rose", and "bending over her huband" was changed to"bending over her husband".
In Chapter VI, "Is Mmme. Essares ill" was changed to "Is Mme. Essaresill".
In Chapter VIII, missing quotation marks were added after "Oh, Patrice!. . . Patrice! . . ." and "Help! . . . Help! . . .".
In Chapter X, "They do, howover, throw" was changed to "They do,however, throw", "Simeon keeps his own council" was changed to "Simeonkeeps his own counsel", and a quotation mark was removed after "And whocould defend her?".
In Chapter XIII, a quotation mark was removed after "what could they doto ward it off?", and "he shook his first at the invisible enemy" waschanged to "he shook his fist at the invisible enemy".
In Chapter XV, a quotation mark was removed before "There was a briefsilence".
In Chapter XVI, "your're trembling" was changed to "you're trembling".
In Chapter XVII, "and then, above all, the gold! . ." was changed to"and then, above all, the gold! . . .", "How indeed could it beotherwise? . ." was changed to "How indeed could it be otherwise?. . .", and a missing quotation mark was added before "But what a stateyou're in!"
In Chapter XVIII, "Gray hair . . ." was changed to "Gray hair. . . .","Gregoire had the money in his keeping" was changed to "Gregoire had themoney in her keeping", and "suddenly leapt backwords" was changed to"suddenly leapt backwards".
In Chapter XIX, "Rue Guimart" was changed to "Rue Guimard", "whichstoppd at twenty-three minutes past twelve" was changed to "whichstopped at twenty-three minutes past twelve", and "to discovered thehiding-place" was changed to "to discover the hiding-place".
The Golden Triangle: The Return of Arsène Lupin Page 19