Arsène Lupin, gentleman-cambrioleur. English

by Maurice Leblanc

  VI. The Seven of Hearts

  I am frequently asked this question: "How did you make theacquaintance of Arsene Lupin?"

  My connection with Arsene Lupin was well known. The details that Igather concerning that mysterious man, the irrefutable facts that Ipresent, the new evidence that I produce, the interpretation that Iplace on certain acts of which the public has seen only theexterior manifestations without being able to discover the secretreasons or the invisible mechanism, all establish, if not anintimacy, at least amicable relations and regular confidences.

  But how did I make his acquaintance? Why was I selected to be hishistoriographer? Why I, and not some one else?

  The answer is simple: chance alone presided over my choice; mymerit was not considered. It was chance that put me in his way.It was by chance that I was participant in one of his strangest andmost mysterious adventures; and by chance that I was an actor in adrama of which he was the marvelous stage director; an obscure andintricate drama, bristling with such thrilling events that I feel acertain embarrassment in undertaking to describe it.

  The first act takes place during that memorable night of 22 June,of which so much has already been said. And, for my part, Iattribute the anomalous conduct of which I was guilty on thatoccasion to the unusual frame of mind in which I found myself on myreturn home. I had dined with some friends at the Cascaderestaurant, and, the entire evening, whilst we smoked and theorchestra played melancholy waltzes, we talked only of crimes andthefts, and dark and frightful intrigues. That is always a pooroverture to a night's sleep.

  The Saint-Martins went away in an automobile. Jean Daspry--thatdelightful, heedless Daspry who, six months later, was killed insuch a tragic manner on the frontier of Morocco--Jean Daspry and Ireturned on foot through the dark, warm night. When we arrived infront of the little house in which I had lived for a year atNeuilly, on the boulevard Maillot, he said to me:

  "Are you afraid?"

  "What an idea!"

  "But this house is so isolated....no neighbors....vacantlots....Really, I am not a coward, and yet---"

  "Well, you are very cheering, I must say."

  "Oh! I say that as I would say anything else. The Saint-Martinshave impressed me with their stories of brigands and thieves."

  We shook hands and said good-night. I took out my key and openedthe door.

  "Well, that is good," I murmured, "Antoine has forgotten to light acandle."

  Then I recalled the fact that Antoine was away; I had given him ashort leave of absence. Forthwith, I was disagreeably oppressed bythe darkness and silence of the night. I ascended the stairs ontiptoe, and reached my room as quickly as possible; then, contraryto my usual habit, I turned the key and pushed the bolt.

  The light of my candle restored my courage. Yet I was careful totake my revolver from its case--a large, powerful weapon--and placeit beside my bed. That precaution completed my reassurance. Ilaid down and, as usual, took a book from my night-table to readmyself to sleep. Then I received a great surprise. Instead of thepaper-knife with which I had marked my place on the preceding, Ifound an envelope, closed with five seals of red wax. I seized iteagerly. It was addressed to me, and marked: "Urgent."

  A letter! A letter addressed to me! Who could have put it in thatplace? Nervously, I tore open the envelope, and read:

  "From the moment you open this letter, whatever happens, whateveryou may hear, do not move, do not utter one cry. Otherwise you aredoomed."

  I am not a coward, and, quite as well as another, I can face realdanger, or smile at the visionary perils of imagination. But, letme repeat, I was in an anomalous condition of mind, with my nervesset on edge by the events of the evening. Besides, was there not,in my present situation, something startling and mysterious,calculated to disturb the most courageous spirit?

  My feverish fingers clutched the sheet of paper, and I read and re-readthose threatening words: "Do not move, do not utter one cry.Otherwise, you are doomed."

  "Nonsense!" I thought. "It is a joke; the work of some cheerfulidiot."

  I was about to laugh--a good loud laugh. Who prevented me? Whathaunting fear compressed my throat?

  At least, I would blow out the candle. No, I could not do it. "Donot move, or you are doomed," were the words he had written.

  These auto-suggestions are frequently more imperious than the mostpositive realities; but why should I struggle against them? I hadsimply to close my eyes. I did so.

  At that moment, I heard a slight noise, followed by cracklingsounds, proceeding from a large room used by me as a library. Asmall room or antechamber was situated between the library and mybedchamber.

  The approach of an actual danger greatly excited me, and I felt adesire to get up, seize my revolver, and rush into the library. Idid not rise; I saw one of the curtains of the left window move.There was no doubt about it: the curtain had moved. It was stillmoving. And I saw--oh! I saw quite distinctly--in the narrow spacebetween the curtains and the window, a human form; a bulky massthat prevented the curtains from hanging straight. And it isequally certain that the man saw me through the large meshes of thecurtain. Then, I understood the situation. His mission was toguard me while the others carried away their booty. Should I riseand seize my revolver? Impossible! He was there! At the leastmovement, at the least cry, I was doomed.

  Then came a terrific noise that shook the house; this was followedby lighter sounds, two or three together, like those of a hammerthat rebounded. At least, that was the impression formed in myconfused brain. These were mingled with other sounds, thuscreating a veritable uproar which proved that the intruders werenot only bold, but felt themselves secure from interruption.

  They were right. I did not move. Was it cowardice? No, ratherweakness, a total inability to move any portion of my body,combined with discretion; for why should I struggle? Behind thatman, there were ten others who would come to his assistance.Should I risk my life to save a few tapestries and bibelots?

  Throughout the night, my torture endured. Insufferable torture,terrible anguish! The noises had stopped, but I was in constantfear of their renewal. And the man! The man who was guarding me,weapon in hand. My fearful eyes remained cast in his direction.And my heart beat! And a profuse perspiration oozed from everypore of my body!

  Suddenly, I experienced an immense relief; a milk-wagon, whosesound was familiar to me, passed along the boulevard; and, at thesame time, I had an impression that the light of a new day wastrying to steal through the closed window-blinds.

  At last, daylight penetrated the room; other vehicles passed alongthe boulevard; and all the phantoms of the night vanished. Then Iput one arm out of the bed, slowly and cautiously. My eyes werefixed upon the curtain, locating the exact spot at which I mustfire; I made an exact calculation of the movements I must make;then, quickly, I seized my revolver and fired.

  I leaped from my bed with a cry of deliverance, and rushed to thewindow. The bullet had passed through the curtain and the window-glass,but it had not touched the man--for the very good reason thatthere was none there. Nobody! Thus, during the entire night, Ihad been hypnotized by a fold of the curtain. And, during thattime, the malefactors....Furiously, with an enthusiasm that nothingcould have stopped, I turned the key, opened the door, crossed theantechamber, opened another door, and rushed into the library. Butamazement stopped me on the threshold, panting, astounded, moreastonished than I had been by the absence of the man. All thethings that I supposed had been stolen, furniture, books, pictures,old tapestries, everything was in its proper place.

  It was incredible. I could not believe my eyes. Notwithstandingthat uproar, those noises of removal....I made a tour, I inspectedthe walls, I made a mental inventory of all the familiar objects.Nothing was missing. And, what was more disconcerting, there wasno clue to the intruders, not a sign, not a chair disturbed, notthe trace of a footstep.

  "Well! Well!" I said to myself, pressing my hands on my bewilderedhead,
"surely I am not crazy! I hear something!"

  Inch by inch, I made a careful examination of the room. It was invain. Unless I could consider this as a discovery: Under a smallPersian rug, I found a card--an ordinary playing card. It was theseven of hearts; it was like any other seven of hearts in Frenchplaying-cards, with this slight but curious exception: The extremepoint of each of the seven red spots or hearts was pierced by ahole, round and regular as if made with the point of an awl.

  Nothing more. A card and a letter found in a book. But was notthat sufficient to affirm that I had not been the plaything of adream?

  * * * * *

  Throughout the day, I continued my searches in the library. It wasa large room, much too large for the requirements of such a house,and the decoration of which attested the bizarre taste of itsfounder. The floor was a mosaic of multicolored stones, formedinto large symmetrical designs. The walls were covered with asimilar mosaic, arranged in panels, Pompeiian allegories, Byzantinecompositions, frescoes of the Middle Ages. A Bacchus bestriding acask. An emperor wearing a gold crown, a flowing beard, andholding a sword in his right hand.

  Quite high, after the style of an artist's studio, there was alarge window--the only one in the room. That window being alwaysopen at night, it was probable that the men had entered through it,by the aid of a ladder. But, again, there was no evidence. Thebottom of the ladder would have left some marks in the soft earthbeneath the window; but there were none. Nor were there any tracesof footsteps in any part of the yard.

  I had no idea of informing the police, because the facts I hadbefore me were so absurd and inconsistent. They would laugh at me.However, as I was then a reporter on the staff of the `Gil Blas,' Iwrote a lengthy account of my adventure and it was published in thepaper on the second day thereafter. The article attracted someattention, but no one took it seriously. They regarded it as awork of fiction rather than a story of real life. The Saint-Martinsrallied me. But Daspry, who took an interest in suchmatters, came to see me, made a study of the affair, but reached noconclusion.

  A few mornings later, the door-bell rang, and Antoine came toinform me that a gentleman desired to see me. He would not givehis name. I directed Antoine to show him up. He was a man ofabout forty years of age with a very dark complexion, livelyfeatures, and whose correct dress, slightly frayed, proclaimed ataste that contrasted strangely with his rather vulgar manners.Without any preamble, he said to me--in a rough voice that confirmedmy suspicion as to his social position:

  "Monsieur, whilst in a cafe, I picked up a copy of the `Gil Blas,'and read your article. It interested me very much.

  "Thank you."

  "And here I am."

  "Ah!"

  "Yes, to talk to you. Are all the facts related by you quitecorrect?"

  "Absolutely so."

  "Well, in that case, I can, perhaps, give you some information."

  "Very well; proceed."

  "No, not yet. First, I must be sure that the facts are exactly asyou have related them."

  "I have given you my word. What further proof do you want?"

  "I must remain alone in this room."

  "I do not understand," I said, with surprise.

  "It's an idea that occurred to me when reading your article.Certain details established an extraordinary coincidence withanother case that came under my notice. If I am mistaken, I shallsay nothing more. And the only means of ascertaining the truth isby my remaining in the room alone."

  What was at the bottom of this proposition? Later, I recalled thatthe man was exceedingly nervous; but, at the same time, althoughsomewhat astonished, I found nothing particularly abnormal aboutthe man or the request he had made. Moreover, my curiosity wasaroused; so I replied:

  "Very well. How much time do you require?"

  "Oh! three minutes--not longer. Three minutes from now, I willrejoin you."

  I left the room, and went downstairs. I took out my watch. Oneminute passed. Two minutes. Why did I feel so depressed? Why didthose moments seem so solemn and weird? Two minutes and ahalf....Two minutes and three quarters. Then I heard a pistolshot.

  I bounded up the stairs and entered the room. A cry of horrorescaped me. In the middle of the room, the man was lying on hisleft side, motionless. Blood was flowing from a wound in hisforehead. Near his hand was a revolver, still smoking.

  But, in addition to this frightful spectacle, my attention wasattracted by another object. At two feet from the body, upon thefloor, I saw a playing-card. It was the seven of hearts. I pickedit up. The lower extremity of each of the seven spots was piercedwith a small round hole.

  * * * * *

  A half-hour later, the commissary of police arrived, then thecoroner and the chief of the Surete, Mon. Dudouis. I had beencareful not to touch the corpse. The preliminary inquiry was verybrief, and disclosed nothing. There were no papers in the pocketsof the deceased; no name upon his clothes; no initial upon hislinen; nothing to give any clue to his identity. The room was inthe same perfect order as before. The furniture had not beendisturbed. Yet this man had not come to my house solely for thepurpose of killing himself, or because he considered my place themost convenient one for his suicide! There must have been a motivefor his act of despair, and that motive was, no doubt, the resultof some new fact ascertained by him during the three minutes he wasalone.

  What was that fact? What had he seen? What frightful secret hadbeen revealed to him? There was no answer to these questions.But, at the last moment, an incident occurred that appeared to usof considerable importance. As two policemen were raising the bodyto place it on a stretcher, the left hand thus being disturbed, acrumpled card fell from it. The card bore these words: "GeorgesAndermatt, 37 Rue de Berry."

  What did that mean? Georges Andermatt was a rich banker in Paris,the founder and president of the Metal Exchange which had givensuch an impulse to the metallic industries in France. He lived inprincely style; was the possessor of numerous automobiles, coaches,and an expensive racing-stable. His social affairs were veryselect, and Madame Andermatt was noted for her grace and beauty.

  "Can that be the man's name?" I asked.

  ---------------

  The chief of the Surete leaned over him.

  "It is not he. Mon. Andermatt is a thin man, and slightly grey."

  "But why this card?"

  "Have you a telephone, monsieur?"

  "Yes, in the vestibule. Come with me."

  He looked in the directory, and then asked for number 415.21.

  "Is Mon. Andermatt at home?....Please tell him that Mon. Dudouiswished him to come at once to 102 Boulevard Maillot. Veryimportant."

  Twenty minutes later, Mon. Andermatt arrived in his automobile.After the circumstances had been explained to him, he was taken into see the corpse. He displayed considerable emotion, and spoke,in a low tone, and apparently unwillingly:

  "Etienne Varin," he said.

  "You know him?"

  "No....or, at least, yes....by sight only. His brother...."

  "Ah! he has a brother?"

  "Yes, Alfred Varin. He came to see me once on some matter ofbusiness....I forget what it was."

  "Where does he live?"

  "The two brothers live together--rue de Provence, I think."

  "Do you know any reason why he should commit suicide?"

  "None."

  "He held a card in his hand. It was your card with your address."

  "I do not understand that. It must have been there by some chancethat will be disclosed by the investigation."

  A very strange chance, I thought; and I felt that the othersentertained the same impression.

  I discovered the same impression in the papers next day, andamongst all my friends with whom I discussed the affair. Amid themysteries that enveloped it, after the double discovery of theseven of hearts pierced with seven holes, after the two inscrutableevents that had happened in my house, that visiting card promised
to throw some light on the affair. Through it, the truth may berevealed. But, contrary to our expectations, Mon. Andermattfurnished no explanation. He said:

  "I have told you all I know. What more can I do? I am greatlysurprised that my card should be found in such a place, and Isincerely hope the point will be cleared up."

  It was not. The official investigation established that the Varinbrothers were of Swiss origin, had led a shifting life undervarious names, frequenting gambling resorts, associating with aband of foreigners who had been dispersed by the police after aseries of robberies in which their participation was establishedonly by their flight. At number 24 rue de Provence, where theVarin brothers had lived six years before, no one knew what hadbecome of them.

  I confess that, for my part, the case seemed to me so complicatedand so mysterious that I did not think the problem would ever besolved, so I concluded to waste no more time upon it. But JeanDaspry, whom I frequently met at that period, became more and moreinterested in it each day. It was he who pointed out to me thatitem from a foreign newspaper which was reproduced and commentedupon by the entire press. It was as follows:

  "The first trial of a new model of submarine boat, which isexpected to revolutionize naval warfare, will be given in presenceof the former Emperor at a place that will be kept secret until thelast minute. An indiscretion has revealed its name; it is called`The Seven-of-Hearts.'"

  The Seven-of-Hearts! That presented a new problem. Could aconnection be established between the name of the sub-marine andthe incidents which we have related? But a connection of whatnature? What had happened here could have no possible relationwith the sub-marine.

  "What do you know about it?" said Daspry to me. "The most diverseeffects often proceed from the same cause."

  Two days later, the following foreign news item was received andpublished:

  "It is said that the plans of the new sub-marine `Seven-of-Hearts'were prepared by French engineers, who, having sought, in vain, thesupport of their compatriots, subsequently entered intonegotiations with the British Admiralty, without success."

  I do not wish to give undue publicity to certain delicate matterswhich once provoked considerable excitement. Yet, since all dangerof injury therefrom has now come to an end, I must speak of thearticle that appeared in the `Echo de France,' which aroused somuch comment at that time, and which threw considerable light uponthe mystery of the Seven-of-Hearts. This is the article as it waspublished over the signature of Salvator:

  "THE AFFAIR OF THE SEVEN-OF-HEARTS.

  "A CORNER OF THE VEIL RAISED.

  "We will be brief. Ten years ago, a young mining engineer, Louis Lacombe, wishing to devote his time and fortune to certain studies, resigned his position he then held, and rented number 102 boulevard Maillot, a small house that had been recently built and decorated for an Italian count. Through the agency of the Varin brothers of Lausanne, one of whom assisted in the preliminary experiments and the other acted as financial agent, the young engineer was introduced to Georges Andermatt, the founder of the Metal Exchange.

  "After several interviews, he succeeded in interesting the banker in a sub-marine boat on which he was working, and it was agreed that as soon as the invention was perfected, Mon. Andermatt would use his influence with the Minister of Marine to obtain a series of trials under the direction of the government. For two years, Louis Lacombe was a frequent visitor at Andermatt's house, and he submitted to the banker the various improvements he made upon his original plans, until one day, being satisfied with the perfection of his work, he asked Mon. Andermatt to communicate with the Minister of Marine. That day, Louis Lacombe dined at Mon. Andermatt's house. He left there about half-past eleven at night. He has not been seen since.

  "A perusal of the newspapers of that date will show that the young man's family caused every possible inquiry to be made, but without success; and it was the general opinion that Louis Lacombe--who was known as an original and visionary youth--had quietly left for parts unknown.

  "Let us accept that theory--improbable, though it be,--and let us consider another question, which is a most important one for our country: What has become of the plans of the sub-marine? Did Louis Lacombe carry them away? Are they destroyed?

  "After making a thorough investigation, we are able to assert, positively, that the plans are in existence, and are now in the possession of the two brothers Varin. How did they acquire such a possession? That is a question not yet determined; nor do we know why they have not tried to sell them at an earlier date. Did they fear that their title to them would be called in question? If so, they have lost that fear, and we can announce definitely, that the plans of Louis Lacombe are now the property of foreign power, and we are in a position to publish the correspondence that passed between the Varin brothers and the representative of that power. The `Seven-of-Hearts' invented by Louis Lacombe has been actually constructed by our neighbor.

  "Will the invention fulfill the optimistic expectations of those who were concerned in that treacherous act?"

  And a post-script adds:

  "Later.--Our special correspondent informs us that the preliminary trial of the `Seven-of-Hearts' has not been satisfactory. It is quite likely that the plans sold and delivered by the Varin brothers did not include the final document carried by Louis Lacombe to Mon. Andermatt on the day of his disappearance, a document that was indispensable to a thorough understanding of the invention. It contained a summary of the final conclusions of the inventor, and estimates and figures not contained in the other papers. Without this document, the plans are incomplete; on the other hand, without the plans, the document is worthless.

  "Now is the time to act and recover what belongs to us. It may be a difficult matter, but we rely upon the assistance of Mon. Andermatt. It will be to his interest to explain his conduct which has hitherto been so strange and inscrutable. He will explain not only why he concealed these facts at the time of the suicide of Etienne Varin, but also why he has never revealed the disappearance of the paper--a fact well known to him. He will tell why, during the last six years, he paid spies to watch the movements of the Varin brothers. We expect from him, not only words, but acts. And at once. Otherwise---"

  The threat was plainly expressed. But of what did it consist?What whip was Salvator, the anonymous writer of the article,holding over the head of Mon. Andermatt?

  An army of reporters attacked the banker, and ten interviewersannounced the scornful manner in which they were treated.Thereupon, the `Echo de France' announced its position in thesewords:

  "Whether Mon. Andermatt is willing or not, he will be, henceforth,our collaborator in the work we have undertaken."

  * * * * *

  Daspry and I were dining together on the day on which thatannouncement appeared. That evening, with the newspapers spreadover my table, we discussed the affair and examined it from everypoint of view with that exasperation that a person feels whenwalking in the dark and finding himself constantly falling over thesame obstacles. Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, the dooropened and a lady entered. Her face was hidden behind a thickveil. I rose at once and approached her.

  "Is it you, monsieur, who lives here?" she asked.

  "Yes, madame, but I do not understand---"

  "The gate was not locked," she explained.

  "But the vestibule door?"

  She did not reply, and it occurred to me that she had used theservants' entrance. How did she know the way? Then there was asilence that was quite embarrassing. She looked at Daspry, and Iwas obliged to introduce him. I asked her to be seated and explainthe object of her visit. She raised her veil, and I saw that shewas a brunette with regular features and, though not handsome, shewas attractive--principally, on account of her sad, dark eyes.

  "I am Madame Andermatt," she said.

  "Madame Andermatt!" I repeated, with astonishment.

&nbs
p; After a brief pause, she continued with a voice and manner thatwere quite easy and natural:

  "I have come to see you about that affair--you know. I thought Imight be able to obtain some information---"

  "Mon Dieu, madame, I know nothing but what has already appeared inthe papers. But if you will point out in what way I can help you. ..."

  "I do not know....I do not know."

  Not until then did I suspect that her calm demeanor was assumed,and that some poignant grief was concealed beneath that air oftranquility. For a moment, we were silent and embarrassed. ThenDaspry stepped forward, and said:

  "Will you permit me to ask you a few questions?"

  "Yes, yes," she cried. "I will answer."

  "You will answer....whatever those questions may be?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you know Louis Lacombe?" he asked.

  "Yes, through my husband."

  "When did you see him for the last time?"

  "The evening he dined with us."

  "At that time, was there anything to lead you to believe that youwould never see him again?"

  "No. But he had spoken of a trip to Russia--in a vague way."

  "Then you expected to see him again?"

  "Yes. He was to dine with us, two days later."

  "How do you explain his disappearance?"

  "I cannot explain it."

  "And Mon. Andermatt?"

  "I do not know."

  "Yet the article published in the `Echo de France' indicates---"

  "Yes, that the Varin brothers had something to do with hisdisappearance."

  "Is that your opinion?"

  "Yes."

  "On what do you base your opinion?"

  "When he left our house, Louis Lacombe carried a satchel containingall the papers relating to his invention. Two days later, myhusband, in a conversation with one of the Varin brothers, learnedthat the papers were in their possession."

  "And he did not denounce them?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "Because there was something else in the satchel--something besidesthe papers of Louis Lacombe."

  "What was it?"

  She hesitated; was on the point of speaking, but, finally, remainedsilent. Daspry continued:

  "I presume that is why your husband has kept a close watch overtheir movements instead of informing the police. He hoped torecover the papers and, at the same time, that compromising articlewhich has enabled the two brothers to hold over him threats ofexposure and blackmail."

  "Over him, and over me."

  "Ah! over you, also?"

  "Over me, in particular."

  She uttered the last words in a hollow voice. Daspry observed it;he paced to and fro for a moment, then, turning to her, asked:

  "Had you written to Louis Lacombe?"

  "Of course. My husband had business with him--"

  "Apart from those business letters, had you written to LouisLacombe....other letters? Excuse my insistence, but it isabsolutely necessary that I should know the truth. Did you writeother letters?"

  "Yes," she replied, blushing.

  "And those letters came into the possession of the Varin brothers?"

  "Yes."

  "Does Mon. Andermatt know it?"

  "He has not seen them, but Alfred Varin has told him of theirexistence and threatened to publish them if my husband should takeany steps against him. My husband was afraid....of a scandal."

  "But he has tried to recover the letters?"

  "I think so; but I do not know. You see, after that last interviewwith Alfred Varin, and after some harsh words between me and myhusband in which he called me to account--we live as strangers."

  "In that case, as you have nothing to lose, what do you fear?"

  "I may be indifferent to him now, but I am the woman that he hasloved, the one he would still love--oh! I am quite sure of that,"she murmured, in a fervent voice, "he would still love me if he hadnot got hold of those cursed letters----"

  "What! Did he succeed?....But the two brothers still defiedhim?"

  "Yes, and they boasted of having a secure hiding-place."

  "Well?"

  "I believe my husband discovered that hiding-place."

  "Well?"

  "I believe my husband has discovered that hiding-place."

  "Ah! where was it?"

  "Here."

  "Here!" I cried in alarm.

  "Yes. I always had that suspicion. Louis Lacombe was veryingenious and amused himself in his leisure hours, by making safesand locks. No doubt, the Varin brothers were aware of that factand utilized one of Lacombe's safes in which to conceal theletters....and other things, perhaps."

  "But they did not live here," I said.

  "Before you came, four months ago, the house had been vacant forsome time. And they may have thought that your presence here wouldnot interfere with them when they wanted to get the papers. Butthey did not count on my husband, who came here on the night of 22June, forced the safe, took what he was seeking, and left his cardto inform the two brothers that he feared them no more, and thattheir positions were now reversed. Two days later, after readingthe article in the `Gil Blas,' Etienne Varin came here, remainedalone in this room, found the safe empty, and....killedhimself."

  After a moment, Daspry said:

  "A very simple theory....Has Mon. Andermatt spoken to you sincethen?"

  "No."

  "Has his attitude toward you changed in any way? Does he appearmore gloomy, more anxious?"

  "No, I haven't noticed any change."

  "And yet you think he has secured the letters. Now, in my opinion,he has not got those letters, and it was not he who came here onthe night of 22 June."

  "Who was it, then?"

  "The mysterious individual who is managing this affair, who holdsall the threads in his hands, and whose invisible but far-reachingpower we have felt from the beginning. It was he and his friendswho entered this house on 22 June; it was he who discovered thehiding-place of the papers; it was he who left Mon. Andermatt'scard; it is he who now holds the correspondence and the evidence ofthe treachery of the Varin brothers."

  "Who is he?" I asked, impatiently.

  "The man who writes letters to the `Echo de France'....Salvator! Have we not convincing evidence of that fact? Does he notmention in his letters certain details that no one could know,except the man who had thus discovered the secrets of the twobrothers?"

  "Well, then," stammered Madame Andermatt, in great alarm, "he hasmy letters also, and it is he who now threatens my husband. MonDieu! What am I to do?"

  "Write to him," declared Daspry. "Confide in him without reserve.Tell him all you know and all you may hereafter learn. Yourinterest and his interest are the same. He is not working againstMon. Andermatt, but against Alfred Varin. Help him."

  "How?"

  "Has your husband the document that completes the plans of LouisLacombe?"

  "Yes."

  "Tell that to Salvator, and, if possible, procure the document forhim. Write to him at once. You risk nothing."

  The advice was bold, dangerous even at first sight, but MadameAndermatt had no choice. Besides, as Daspry had said, she ran norisk. If the unknown writer were an enemy, that step would notaggravate the situation. If he were a stranger seeking toaccomplish a particular purpose, he would attach to those lettersonly a secondary importance. Whatever might happen, it was theonly solution offered to her, and she, in her anxiety, was only tooglad to act on it. She thanked us effusively, and promised to keepus informed.

  In fact, two days later, she sent us the following letter that shehad received from Salvator:

  "Have not found the letters, but I will get them. Rest easy. I amwatching everything. S."

  I looked at the letter. It was in the same handwriting as the noteI found in my book on the night of 22 June.

  Daspry was right. Salvator was, indeed, the originator of thataffair.

  * * * * *r />
  We were beginning to see a little light coming out of the darknessthat surrounded us, and an unexpected light was thrown on certainpoints; but other points yet remained obscure--for instance, thefinding of the two seven-of-hearts. Perhaps I was unnecessarilyconcerned about those two cards whose seven punctured spots hadappeared to me under such startling circumstances! Yet I could notrefrain from asking myself: What role will they play in the drama?What importance do they bear? What conclusion must be drawn fromthe fact that the submarine constructed from the plans of LouisLacombe bore the name of `Seven-of-Hearts'?

  Daspry gave little thought to the other two cards; he devoted allhis attention to another problem which he considered more urgent;he was seeking the famous hiding-place.

  "And who knows," said he, "I may find the letters that Salvator didnot find--by inadvertence, perhaps. It is improbable that the Varinbrothers would have removed from a spot, which they deemedinaccessible, the weapon which was so valuable to them."

  And he continued to search. In a short time, the large room heldno more secrets for him, so he extended his investigations to theother rooms. He examined the interior and the exterior, the stonesof the foundation, the bricks in the walls; he raised the slates ofthe roof.

  One day, he came with a pickaxe and a spade, gave me the spade,kept the pickaxe, pointed to the adjacent vacant lots, and said:"Come."

  I followed him, but I lacked his enthusiasm. He divided the vacantland into several sections which he examined in turn. At last, ina corner, at the angle formed by the walls of two neighboringproprietors, a small pile of earth and gravel, covered with briersand grass, attracted his attention. He attacked it. I was obligedto help him. For an hour, under a hot sun, we labored withoutsuccess. I was discouraged, but Daspry urged me on. His ardor wasas strong as ever.

  At last, Daspry's pickaxe unearthed some bones--the remains of askeleton to which some scraps of clothing still hung. Suddenly, Iturned pale. I had discovered, sticking in the earth, a smallpiece of iron cut in the form of a rectangle, on which I thought Icould see red spots. I stooped and picked it up. That little ironplate was the exact size of a playing-card, and the red spots, madewith red lead, were arranged upon it in a manner similar to theseven-of-hearts, and each spot was pierced with a round holesimilar to the perforations in the two playing cards.

  "Listen, Daspry, I have had enough of this. You can stay if itinterests you. But I am going."

  Was that simply the expression of my excited nerves? Or was it theresult of a laborious task executed under a burning sun? I knowthat I trembled as I walked away, and that I went to bed, where Iremained forty-eight hours, restless and feverish, haunted byskeletons that danced around me and threw their bleeding hearts atmy head.

  Daspry was faithful to me. He came to my house every day, andremained three or four hours, which he spent in the large room,ferreting, thumping, tapping.

  "The letters are here, in this room," he said, from time to time,"they are here. I will stake my life on it."

  On the morning of the third day I arose--feeble yet, but cured. Asubstantial breakfast cheered me up. But a letter that I receivedthat afternoon contributed, more than anything else, to my completerecovery, and aroused in me a lively curiosity. This was theletter:

  "Monsieur,

  "The drama, the first act of which transpired on the night of 22 June, is now drawing to a close. Force of circumstances compel me to bring the two principal actors in that drama face to face, and I wish that meeting to take place in your house, if you will be so kind as to give me the use of it for this evening from nine o'clock to eleven. It will be advisable to give your servant leave of absence for the evening, and, perhaps, you will be so kind as to leave the field open to the two adversaries. You will remember that when I visited your house on the night of 22 June, I took excellent care of your property. I feel that I would do you an injustice if I should doubt, for one moment, your absolute discretion in this affair. Your devoted,

  "SALVATOR."

  I was amused at the facetious tone of his letter and also at thewhimsical nature of his request. There was a charming display ofconfidence and candor in his language, and nothing in the worldcould have induced me to deceive him or repay his confidence withingratitude.

  I gave my servant a theatre ticket, and he left the house at eighto'clock. A few minutes later, Daspry arrived. I showed him theletter.

  "Well?" said he.

  "Well, I have left the garden gate unlocked, so anyone can enter."

  "And you--are you going away?"

  "Not at all. I intend to stay right here."

  "But he asks you to go---"

  "But I am not going. I will be discreet, but I am resolved to seewhat takes place."

  "Ma foi!" exclaimed Daspry, laughing, "you are right, and I shallstay with you. I shouldn't like to miss it."

  We were interrupted by the sound of the door-bell.

  "Here already?" said Daspry, "twenty minutes ahead of time!Incredible!"

  I went to the door and ushered in the visitor. It was MadameAndermatt. She was faint and nervous, and in a stammering voice,she ejaculated:

  "My husband....is coming....he has an appointment....they intend to give him the letters...."

  "How do you know?" I asked.

  "By chance. A message came for my husband while we were at dinner.The servant gave it to me by mistake. My husband grabbed itquickly, but he was too late. I had read it."

  "You read it?"

  "Yes. It was something like this: `At nine o'clock this evening,be at Boulevard Maillot with the papers connected with the affair.In exchange, the letters.' So, after dinner, I hastened here."

  "Unknown to your husband?"

  "Yes."

  "What do you think about it?" asked Daspry, turning to me.

  "I think as you do, that Mon. Andermatt is one of the invitedguests."

  "Yes, but for what purpose?"

  "That is what we are going to find out."

  I led the men to a large room. The three of us could hidecomfortably behind the velvet chimney-mantle, and observe all thatshould happen in the room. We seated ourselves there, with MadameAndermatt in the centre.

  The clock struck nine. A few minutes later, the garden gatecreaked upon its hinges. I confess that I was greatly agitated. Iwas about to learn the key to the mystery. The startling events ofthe last few weeks were about to be explained, and, under my eyes,the last battle was going to be fought. Daspry seized the hand ofMadame Andermatt, and said to her:

  "Not a word, not a movement! Whatever you may see or hear, keepquiet!"

  Some one entered. It was Alfred Varin. I recognized him at once,owing to the close resemblance he bore to his brother Etienne.There was the same slouching gait; the same cadaverous face coveredwith a black beard.

  He entered with the nervous air of a man who is accustomed to fearthe presence of traps and ambushes; who scents and avoids them. Heglanced about the room, and I had the impression that the chimney,masked with a velvet portiere, did not please him. He took threesteps in our direction, when something caused him to turn and walktoward the old mosaic king, with the flowing beard and flamboyantsword, which he examined minutely, mounting on a chair andfollowing with his fingers the outlines of the shoulders and headand feeling certain parts of the face. Suddenly, he leaped fromthe chair and walked away from it. He had heard the sound ofapproaching footsteps. Mon. Andermatt appeared at the door.

  "You! You!" exclaimed the banker. "Was it you who brought mehere?"

  "I? By no means," protested Varin, in a rough, jerky voice thatreminded me of his brother, "on the contrary, it was your letterthat brought me here."

  "My letter?"

  "A letter signed by you, in which you offered---"

  "I never wrote to you," declared Mon. Andermatt.

  "You did not write to me!"

  Instinctively, Varin was put on his guard, no
t against the banker,but against the unknown enemy who had drawn him into this trap. Asecond time, he looked in our direction, then walked toward thedoor. But Mon. Andermatt barred his passage.

  "Well, where are you going, Varin?"

  "There is something about this affair I don't like. I am goinghome. Good evening."

  "One moment!"

  "No need of that, Mon. Andermatt. I have nothing to say to you."

  "But I have something to say to you, and this is a good time to sayit."

  "Let me pass."

  "No, you will not pass."

  Varin recoiled before the resolute attitude of the banker, as hemuttered:

  "Well, then, be quick about it."

  One thing astonished me; and I have no doubt my two companionsexperienced a similar feeling. Why was Salvator not there? Was henot a necessary party at this conference? Or was he satisfied tolet these two adversaries fight it out between themselves? At allevents, his absence was a great disappointment, although it did notdetract from the dramatic strength of the situation.

  After a moment, Mon. Andermatt approached Varin and, face to face,eye to eye, said:

  "Now, after all these years and when you have nothing more to fear,you can answer me candidly: What have you done with Louis Lacombe?"

  "What a question! AS if I knew anything about him!"

  "You do know! You and your brother were his constant companions,almost lived with him in this very house. You knew all about hisplans and his work. And the last night I ever saw Louis Lacombe,when I parted with him at my door, I saw two men slinking away inthe shadows of the trees. That, I am ready to swear to."

  "Well, what has that to do with me?"

  "The two men were you and your brother."

  "Prove it."

  "The best proof is that, two days later, you yourself showed me thepapers and the plans that belonged to Lacombe and offered to sellthem. How did these papers come into your possession?"

  "I have already told you, Mon. Andermatt, that we found them onLouis Lacombe's table, the morning after his disappearance."

  "That is a lie!"

  "Prove it."

  "The law will prove it."

  "Why did you not appeal to the law?"

  "Why? Ah! Why---," stammered the banker, with a slight display ofemotion.

  "You know very well, Mon. Andermatt, if you had the least certaintyof our guilt, our little threat would not have stopped you."

  "What threat? Those letters? Do you suppose I ever gave thoseletters a moment's thought?"

  "If you did not care for the letters, why did you offer methousands of francs for their return? And why did you have mybrother and me tracked like wild beasts?"

  "To recover the plans."

  "Nonsense! You wanted the letters. You knew that as soon as youhad the letters in your possession, you could denounce us. Oh! no,I couldn't part with them!"

  He laughed heartily, but stopped suddenly, and said:

  "But, enough of this! We are merely going over old ground. Wemake no headway. We had better let things stand as they are."

  "We will not let them stand as they are," said the banker, "andsince you have referred to the letters, let me tell you that youwill not leave this house until you deliver up those letters."

  "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 MadameAndermatt could not suppress a cry of fear. Varin must have heardit, for he now tried to force his way out. Mon. Andermatt pushedhim 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 wasfired close to me. It was Daspry who had fired it at Varin,causing him to drop the revolver. In a moment, Daspry was standingbetween the two men, facing Varin; he said to him, with a sneer:

  "You were lucky, my friend, very lucky. I fired at your hand andstruck only the revolver."

  Both of them looked at him, surprised. Then he turned to thebanker, 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 littleiron plate, marked with the seven red spots. It was a terribleshock to Varin. With livid features, staring eyes, and an air ofintense 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 verybottom."

  "What do you want?"

  "What you brought here tonight."

  "I brought nothing."

  "Yes, you did, or you wouldn't have come. This morning, youreceived an invitation to come here at nine o'clock, and bring withyou all the papers held by you. You are here. Where are thepapers?"

  There was in Daspry's voice and manner a tone of authority that Idid not understand; his manner was usually quite mild andconciliatory. Absolutely conquered, Varin placed his hand on oneof his pockets, and said:

  "The papers are here."

  "All of them?"

  "Yes."

  "All that you took from Louis Lacombe and afterwards sold to Majorvon 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 twentythousand, and that was like money thrown into the sea, as the boatwas 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 soumore."

  "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 Daspryhanded 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 andsigned 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 younot?"

  "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 aswell 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 thesame person? Everything pointed to that conclusion. If so, Varinrisked 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. Varinrecoiled in terro
r, 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 lowerpart of the sword in such a manner that the edges of the iron platecoincided exactly with the two edges of the sword. Then, with theassistance of an awl which he introduced alternately into each ofthe seven holes, he pressed upon seven of the little mosaic stones.As he pressed upon the seventh one, a clicking sound was heard, andthe entire bust of the King turned upon a pivot, disclosing a largeopening 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 then thousand francsto you?"

  "Yes," said the banker, firmly.

  Varin closed the safe, took the seven of hearts and placed it againon the sword at the same spot. He thrust the awl into each of theseven holes. There was the same clicking sound, but this time,strange to relate, it was only a portion of the safe that revolvedon the pivot, disclosing quite a small safe that was built withinthe door of the larger one. The packet of letters was here, tiedwith a tape, and sealed. Varin handed the packet to Daspry. Thelatter turned to the banker, and asked:

  "Is the check ready, Monsieur Andermatt?"

  "Yes."

  "And you have also the last document that you received from LouisLacombe--the one that completes the plans of the sub-marine?"

  "Yes."

  The exchange was made. Daspry pocketed the document and thechecks, 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 thosecursed letters that he had sought so eagerly. Then, with a nervousmovement, he took them. Close to me, I heard a moan. I graspedMadame Andermatt's hand. It was cold.

  "I believe, monsieur," said Daspry to the banker, "that ourbusiness is ended. Oh! no thanks. It was only by a mere chancethat I have been able to do you a good turn. Good-night."

  Mon. Andermatt retired. He carried with him the letters written byhis wife to Louis Lacombe.

  "Marvelous!" exclaimed Daspry, delighted. "Everything is comingour 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 youask such a thing?"

  "I ask only what is due to me."

  "Can you ask pay for returning papers that you stole? Well, Ithink not!"

  Varin was beside himself. He trembled with rage; his eyes werebloodshot.

  "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 anygood."

  Daspry seized his arm so forcibly, that Varin uttered a cry ofpain. Daspry continued:

  "Now, you can go. The air will do you good. Perhaps you want meto show you the way. Ah! yes, we will go together to the vacant lotnear here, and I will show you a little mound of earth and stonesand under it---"

  "That is false! That is false!"

  "Oh! no, it is true. That little iron plate with the seven spotson it came from there. Louis Lacombe always carried it, and youburied it with the body--and with some other things that will provevery 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 onequestion. 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 prettycollection of diamonds and pearls picked up here and there by thesaid brothers."

  "And did you take it?"

  "Of course I did. Do you blame me?"

  "I understand....it was the disappearance of that casket thatcaused my brother to kill himself."

  "Probably. The disappearance of your correspondence was not asufficient motive. But the disappearance of the casket....Isthat 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?"

  "Arsene Lupin."

  "Arsene Lupin!"

  The man staggered, as though stunned by a heavy blow. Those twowords had deprived him of all hope.

  Daspry laughed, and said:

  "Ah! did you imagine that a Monsieur Durand or Dupont could managean affair like this? No, it required the skill and cunning ofArsene Lupin. And now that you have my name, go and prepare yourrevenge. Arsene Lupin will wait for you."

  Then he pushed the bewildered Varin through the door.

  "Daspry! Daspry!" I cried, pushing aside the curtain. He ran tome.

  "What? What's the matter?"

  "Madame Andermatt is ill."

  He hastened to her, caused her to inhale some salts, and, whilecaring 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 courseshe would. Imbecile that I am!"

  Madame Andermatt was now revived. Daspry took from his pocket asmall package exactly similar to the one that Mon. Andermatt hadcarried 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 willnever suspect the substitution since they were taken from the safein 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 inher own social circle, so I concluded that she had not witnessedthe final scene between Varin and Arsene Lupin. But the surprisingrevelation caused me considerable embarrassment. Lupin! My clubcompanion was none other than Arsene Lupin. I could not realizeit. 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 toMorocco. There, he may find a death worthy of him. I may say thatthat is his expectation."

  "But Arsene Lupin will remain?"

  "Oh! Decidedly. Arsene Lupin is simply at the threshold of hiscareer, and he expects---"

  I was impelled by curiosity to interrupt him, and, leading him awayfrom the hearing of Madame Andermatt, I asked:

  "Did you discover the smaller safe yourself--the one that held theletters?"

  "Yes, after a great deal of trouble. I found it yesterdayafternoon while you were asleep. And yet, God knows it was simpleenough! But the simplest things are the ones that usually escapeour notice." Then, showing me the seven-of-hearts, he added: "Ofcourse I had guessed that, in order to open the larger safe, thiscard must be placed on the sword of the mosaic king."
<
br />   "How did you guess that?"

  "Quite easily. Through private information, I knew that fact whenI came here on the evening of 22 June---"

  "After you left me---"

  "Yes, after turning the subject of our conversation to stories ofcrime and robbery which were sure to reduce you to such a nervouscondition that you would not leave your bed, but would allow me tocomplete my search uninterrupted."

  "The scheme worked perfectly."

  "Well, I knew when I came here that there was a casket concealed ina safe with a secret lock, and that the seven-of-hearts was the keyto that lock. I had merely to place the card upon the spot thatwas obviously intended for it. An hour's examination showed mewhere the spot was."

  "One hour!"

  "Observe the fellow in mosaic."

  "The old emperor?"

  "That old emperor is an exact representation of the king of heartson all playing cards."

  "That's right. But how does the seven of hearts open the largersafe at one time and the smaller safe at another time? And why didyou open only the larger safe in the first instance? I mean on thenight 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 byreversing the card, by turning it upside down, the arrangement ofthe 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 thoseletters until Madame Andermatt---"

  "Spoke of them before me? No. Because I found in the safe, besidesthe casket, nothing but the correspondence of the two brotherswhich disclosed their treachery in regard to the plans."

  "Then it was by chance that you were led, first, to investigate thehistory of the two brothers, and then to search for the plans anddocuments relating to the sub-marine?"

  "Simply by chance."

  "For what purpose did you make the search?"

  "Mon Dieu!" exclaimed Daspry, laughing, "how deeply interested youare!"

  "The subject fascinates me."

  "Very well, presently, after I have escorted Madame Andermatt to acarriage, and dispatched a short story to the `Echo de France,' Iwill return and tell you all about it."

  He sat down and wrote one of those short, clear-cut articles whichserved to amuse and mystify the public. Who does not recall thesensation that followed that article produced throughout the entireworld?

  "Arsene Lupin has solved the problem recently submitted bySalvator. Having acquired possession of all the documents andoriginal plans of the engineer Louis Lacombe, he has placed them inthe hands of the Minister of Marine, and he has headed asubscription list for the purpose of presenting to the nation thefirst submarine constructed from those plans. His subscription istwenty thousand francs."

  "Twenty thousand francs! The checks of Mon. Andermatt?" Iexclaimed, when he had given me the paper to read.

  "Exactly. It was quite right that Varin should redeem histreachery."

  * * * * *

  And that is how I made the acquaintance of Arsene Lupin. That ishow I learned that Jean Daspry, a member of my club, was none otherthan Arsene Lupin, gentleman-thief. That is how I formed veryagreeable ties of friendship with that famous man, and, thanks tothe confidence with which he honored me, how I became his veryhumble and faithful historiographer.