“I shall go when I please.”
“You will not.”
“Be careful, Mon. Andermatt. I warn you—”
“I say, you shall not go.”
“We will see about that,” cried Varin, in such a rage that Madame Andermatt could not suppress a cry of fear. Varin must have heard it, for he now tried to force his way out. Mon. Andermatt pushed him back. Then I saw him put his hand into his coat pocket.
“For the last time, let me pass,” he cried.
“The letters, first!”
Varin drew a revolver and, pointing it at Mon. Andermatt, said:
“Yes or no?”
The banker stooped quickly. There was the sound of a pistol-shot. The weapon fell from Varin’s hand. I was amazed. The shot was fired close to me. It was Daspry who had fired it at Varin, causing him to drop the revolver. In a moment, Daspry was standing between the two men, facing Varin; he said to him, with a sneer:
“You were lucky, my friend, very lucky. I fired at your hand and struck only the revolver.”
Both of them looked at him, surprised. Then he turned to the banker, and said:
“I beg your pardon, monsieur, for meddling in your business; but, really, you play a very poor game. Let me hold the cards.”
Turning again to Varin, Daspry said:
“It’s between us two, comrade, and play fair, if you please. Hearts are trumps, and I play the seven.”
Then Daspry held up, before Varin’s bewildered eyes, the little iron plate, marked with the seven red spots. It was a terrible shock to Varin. With livid features, staring eyes, and an air of intense agony, the man seemed to be hypnotized at the sight of it.
“Who are you?” he gasped.
“One who meddles in other people’s business, down to the very bottom.”
“What do you want?”
“What you brought here tonight.”
“I brought nothing.”
“Yes, you did, or you wouldn’t have come. This morning, you received an invitation to come here at nine o’clock, and bring with you all the papers held by you. You are here. Where are the papers?”
There was in Daspry’s voice and manner a tone of authority that I did not understand; his manner was usually quite mild and conciliatory. Absolutely conquered, Varin placed his hand on one of his pockets, and said:
“The papers are here.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“All that you took from Louis Lacombe and afterwards sold to Major von Lieben?”
“Yes.”
“Are these the copies or the originals?”
“I have the originals.”
“How much do you want for them?”
“One hundred thousand francs.”
“You are crazy,” said Daspry. “Why, the major gave you only twenty thousand, and that was like money thrown into the sea, as the boat was a failure at the preliminary trials.”
“They didn’t understand the plans.”
“The plans are not complete.”
“Then, why do you ask me for them?”
“Because I want them. I offer you five thousand francs — not a sou more.”
“Ten thousand. Not a sou less.”
“Agreed,” said Daspry, who now turned to Mon. Andermatt, and said:
“Monsieur will kindly sign a check for the amount.”
“But....I haven’t got—”
“Your check-book? Here it is.”
Astounded, Mon. Andermatt examined the check-book that Daspry handed to him.
“It is mine,” he gasped. “How does that happen?”
“No idle words, monsieur, if you please. You have merely to sign.”
The banker took out his fountain pen, filled out the check and signed it. Varin held out his hand for it.
“Put down your hand,” said Daspry, “there is something more.” Then, to the banker, he said: “You asked for some letters, did you not?”
“Yes, a package of letters.”
“Where are they, Varin?”
“I haven’t got them.”
“Where are they, Varin?”
“I don’t know. My brother had charge of them.”
“They are hidden in this room.”
“In that case, you know where they are.”
“How should I know?”
“Was it not you who found the hiding-place? You appear to be as well informed.... as Salvator.”
“The letters are not in the hiding-place.”
“They are.”
“Open it.”
Varin looked at him, defiantly. Were not Daspry and Salvator the same person? Everything pointed to that conclusion. If so, Varin risked nothing in disclosing a hiding-place already known.
“Open it,” repeated Daspry.
“I have not got the seven of hearts.”
“Yes, here it is,” said Daspry, handing him the iron plate. Varin recoiled in terror, and cried:
“No, no, I will not.”
“Never mind,” replied Daspry, as he walked toward the bearded king, climbed on a chair and applied the seven of hearts to the lower part of the sword in such a manner that the edges of the iron plate coincided exactly with the two edges of the sword. Then, with the assistance of an awl which he introduced alternately into each of the seven holes, he pressed upon seven of the little mosaic stones. As he pressed upon the seventh one, a clicking sound was heard, and the entire bust of the King turned upon a pivot, disclosing a large opening lined with steel. It was really a fire-proof safe.
“You can see, Varin, the safe is empty.”
“So I see. Then, my brother has taken out the letters.”
Daspry stepped down from the chair, approached Varin, and said:
“Now, no more nonsense with me. There is another hiding-place. Where is it?”
“There is none.”
“Is it money you want? How much?”
“Ten thousand.”
“Monsieur Andermatt, are those letters worth ten thousand francs to you?”
“Yes,” said the banker, firmly.
Varin closed the safe, took the seven of hearts and placed it again on the sword at the same spot. He thrust the awl into each of the seven holes. There was the same clicking sound, but this time, strange to relate, it was only a portion of the safe that revolved on the pivot, disclosing quite a small safe that was built within the door of the larger one. The packet of letters was here, tied with a tape, and sealed. Varin handed the packet to Daspry. The latter turned to the banker, and asked:
“Is the check ready, Monsieur Andermatt?”
“Yes.”
“And you have also the last document that you received from Louis Lacombe — the one that completes the plans of the sub-marine?”
“Yes.”
The exchange was made. Daspry pocketed the document and the checks, and offered the packet of letters to Mon. Andermatt.
“This is what you wanted, Monsieur.”
The banker hesitated a moment, as if he were afraid to touch those cursed letters that he had sought so eagerly. Then, with a nervous movement, he took them. Close to me, I heard a moan. I grasped Madame Andermatt’s hand. It was cold.
“I believe, monsieur,” said Daspry to the banker, “that our business is ended. Oh! no thanks. It was only by a mere chance that I have been able to do you a good turn. Good-night.”
Mon. Andermatt retired. He carried with him the letters written by his wife to Louis Lacombe.
“Marvelous!” exclaimed Daspry, delighted. “Everything is coming our way. Now, we have only to close our little affair, comrade. You have the papers?”
“Here they are — all of them.”
Daspry examined them carefully, and then placed them in his pocket.
“Quite right. You have kept your word,” he said.
“But—”
“But what?”
“The two checks? The money?” said Varin, eagerly.
“Well, you have a
great deal of assurance, my man. How dare you ask such a thing?”
“I ask only what is due to me.”
“Can you ask pay for returning papers that you stole? Well, I think not!”
Varin was beside himself. He trembled with rage; his eyes were bloodshot.
“The money.... the twenty thousand....” he stammered.
“Impossible! I need it myself.”
“The money!”
“Come, be reasonable, and don’t get excited. It won’t do you any good.”
Daspry seized his arm so forcibly, that Varin uttered a cry of pain. Daspry continued:
“Now, you can go. The air will do you good. Perhaps you want me to show you the way. Ah! yes, we will go together to the vacant lot near here, and I will show you a little mound of earth and stones and under it—”
“That is false! That is false!”
“Oh! no, it is true. That little iron plate with the seven spots on it came from there. Louis Lacombe always carried it, and you buried it with the body — and with some other things that will prove very interesting to a judge and jury.”
Varin covered his face with his hands, and muttered:
“All right, I am beaten. Say no more. But I want to ask you one question. I should like to know—”
“What is it?”
“Was there a little casket in the large safe?”
“Yes.”
“Was it there on the night of 22 June?”
“Yes.”
“What did it contain?”
“Everything that the Varin brothers had put in it — a very pretty collection of diamonds and pearls picked up here and there by the said brothers.”
“And did you take it?”
“Of course I did. Do you blame me?”
“I understand.... it was the disappearance of that casket that caused my brother to kill himself.”
“Probably. The disappearance of your correspondence was not a sufficient motive. But the disappearance of the casket....Is that all you wish to ask me?”
“One thing more: your name?”
“You ask that with an idea of seeking revenge.”
“Parbleu! The tables may be turned. Today, you are on top. To-morrow—”
“It will be you.”
“I hope so. Your name?”
“Arsène Lupin.”
“Arsène Lupin!”
The man staggered, as though stunned by a heavy blow. Those two words had deprived him of all hope.
Daspry laughed, and said:
“Ah! did you imagine that a Monsieur Durand or Dupont could manage an affair like this? No, it required the skill and cunning of Arsène Lupin. And now that you have my name, go and prepare your revenge. Arsène Lupin will wait for you.”
Then he pushed the bewildered Varin through the door.
“Daspry! Daspry!” I cried, pushing aside the curtain. He ran to me.
“What? What’s the matter?”
“Madame Andermatt is ill.”
He hastened to her, caused her to inhale some salts, and, while caring for her, questioned me:
“Well, what did it?”
“The letters of Louis Lacombe that you gave to her husband.”
He struck his forehead and said:
“Did she think that I could do such a thing!...But, of course she would. Imbecile that I am!”
Madame Andermatt was now revived. Daspry took from his pocket a small package exactly similar to the one that Mon. Andermatt had carried away.
“Here are your letters, Madame. These are the genuine letters.”
“But.... the others?”
“The others are the same, rewritten by me and carefully worded. Your husband will not find anything objectionable in them, and will never suspect the substitution since they were taken from the safe in his presence.”
“But the handwriting—”
“There is no handwriting that cannot be imitated.”
She thanked him in the same words she might have used to a man in her own social circle, so I concluded that she had not witnessed the final scene between Varin and Arsène Lupin. But the surprising revelation caused me considerable embarrassment. Lupin! My club companion was none other than Arsène Lupin. I could not realize it. But he said, quite at his ease:
“You can say farewell to Jean Daspry.”
“Ah!”
“Yes, Jean Daspry is going on a long journey. I shall send him to Morocco. There, he may find a death worthy of him. I may say that that is his expectation.”
“But Arsène Lupin will remain?”
“Oh! Decidedly. Arsène Lupin is simply at the threshold of his career, and he expects—”
I was impelled by curiosity to interrupt him, and, leading him away from the hearing of Madame Andermatt, I asked:
“Did you discover the smaller safe yourself — the one that held the letters?”
“Yes, after a great deal of trouble. I found it yesterday afternoon while you were asleep. And yet, God knows it was simple enough! But the simplest things are the ones that usually escape our notice.” Then, showing me the seven-of-hearts, he added: “Of course I had guessed that, in order to open the larger safe, this card must be placed on the sword of the mosaic king.”
“How did you guess that?”
“Quite easily. Through private information, I knew that fact when I came here on the evening of 22 June—”
“After you left me—”
“Yes, after turning the subject of our conversation to stories of crime and robbery which were sure to reduce you to such a nervous condition that you would not leave your bed, but would allow me to complete my search uninterrupted.”
“The scheme worked perfectly.”
“Well, I knew when I came here that there was a casket concealed in a safe with a secret lock, and that the seven-of-hearts was the key to that lock. I had merely to place the card upon the spot that was obviously intended for it. An hour’s examination showed me where the spot was.”
“One hour!”
“Observe the fellow in mosaic.”
“The old emperor?”
“That old emperor is an exact representation of the king of hearts on all playing cards.”
“That’s right. But how does the seven of hearts open the larger safe at one time and the smaller safe at another time? And why did you open only the larger safe in the first instance? I mean on the night of 22 June.”
“Why? Because I always placed the seven of hearts in the same way. I never changed the position. But, yesterday, I observed that by reversing the card, by turning it upside down, the arrangement of the seven spots on the mosaic was changed.”
“Parbleu!”
“Of course, parbleu! But a person has to think of those things.”
“There is something else: you did not know the history of those letters until Madame Andermatt—”
“Spoke of them before me? No. Because I found in the safe, besides the casket, nothing but the correspondence of the two brothers which disclosed their treachery in regard to the plans.”
“Then it was by chance that you were led, first, to investigate the history of the two brothers, and then to search for the plans and documents relating to the sub-marine?”
“Simply by chance.”
“For what purpose did you make the search?”
“Mon Dieu!” exclaimed Daspry, laughing, “how deeply interested you are!”
“The subject fascinates me.”
“Very well, presently, after I have escorted Madame Andermatt to a carriage, and dispatched a short story to the ‘Echo de France,’ I will return and tell you all about it.”
He sat down and wrote one of those short, clear-cut articles which served to amuse and mystify the public. Who does not recall the sensation that followed that article produced throughout the entire world?
“Arsène Lupin has solved the problem recently submitted by Salvator. Having acquired possession of all the documents and original plans of the engin
eer Louis Lacombe, he has placed them in the hands of the Minister of Marine, and he has headed a subscription list for the purpose of presenting to the nation the first submarine constructed from those plans. His subscription is twenty thousand francs.”
“Twenty thousand francs! The checks of Mon. Andermatt?” I exclaimed, when he had given me the paper to read.
“Exactly. It was quite right that Varin should redeem his treachery.”
And that is how I made the acquaintance of Arsène Lupin. That is how I learned that Jean Daspry, a member of my club, was none other than Arsène Lupin, gentleman-thief. That is how I formed very agreeable ties of friendship with that famous man, and, thanks to the confidence with which he honored me, how I became his very humble and faithful historiographer.
Madame Imbert’s Safe
AT THREE O’CLOCK in the morning, there were still half a dozen carriages in front of one of those small houses which form only the side of the boulevard Berthier. The door of that house opened, and a number of guests, male and female, emerged. The majority of them entered their carriages and were quickly driven away, leaving behind only two men who walked down Courcelles, where they parted, as one of them lived in that street. The other decided to return on foot as far as the Porte-Maillot. It was a beautiful winter’s night, clear and cold; a night on which a brisk walk is agreeable and refreshing.
But, at the end of a few minutes, he had the disagreeable impression that he was being followed. Turning around, he saw a man skulking amongst the trees. He was not a coward; yet he felt it advisable to increase his speed. Then his pursuer commenced to run; and he deemed it prudent to draw his revolver and face him. But he had no time. The man rushed at him and attacked him violently. Immediately, they were engaged in a desperate struggle, wherein he felt that his unknown assailant had the advantage. He called for help, struggled, and was thrown down on a pile of gravel, seized by the throat, and gagged with a handkerchief that his assailant forced into his mouth. His eyes closed, and the man who was smothering him with his weight arose to defend himself against an unexpected attack. A blow from a cane and a kick from a boot; the man uttered two cries of pain, and fled, limping and cursing. Without deigning to pursue the fugitive, the new arrival stooped over the prostrate man and inquired:
“Are you hurt, monsieur?”
Delphi Collected Works of Maurice Leblanc (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Nine Book 17) Page 13