The Victorian Rogues MEGAPACK ™: 28 Classic Tales

by Maurice Leblanc

  “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. Tomorrow—-”

  “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 engineer 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.

  CHAPTER VII

  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 sulking 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?”

  He was not injured, but he was dazed and unable to stand. His rescuer procured a carriage, placed him in it, and accompanied him to his house on the avenue de la Grande-Armée. On his arrival there, quite recovered, he overwhelmed his saviour with thanks.

  “I owe you my life, monsieur, and I shall not forget it. I do not wish to alarm my wife at this time of night, but, tomorrow, she will be pleased to thank you personally. Come and breakfast with us. My name is Ludovic Imbert. May I ask yours?”

  “Certainly, monsieur.”

  And he handed Mon. Imbert a card bearing the name: “Arsène Lupin.”

  * * * *

  At that time, Arsène Lupin did not enjoy the celebrity which the Cahorn affair, his escape from the Prison de la Santé, and other brilliant exploits, afterwards gained for him. He had not even used the name of Arsène Lupin. The name was specially invented to designate the rescuer of Mon. Imbert; that is to say, it was in that affair that Arsène Lupin was baptized. Fully armed and ready for the fray, it is true, but lacking the resources and authority which command success, Arsène Lupin was then merely an apprentice in a profession wherein he soon became a master.

  With what a thrill of joy he recalled the invitation he received that night! At last, he had reached his goal! At last, he had undertaken a task worthy of his strength and skill! The Imbert millions! What a magnificent feast for an appetite like his!

  He prepared a special toilet for the occasion; a shabby frock-coat, baggy trousers, a frayed silk hat, well-worn collar and cuffs, all quite correct in form, but bearing the unmistakable stamp of poverty. His cravat was a black ribbon pinned with a false diamond. Thus accoutred, he descended the stairs of the house in which he lived at Montmartre. At the third floor, without stopping, he rapped on a closed door with the head of his cane. He walked to the exterior boulevards. A tram-car was passing. He boarded it, and some one who had been following him took a seat beside him. It was the lodger who occupied the room on the third floor. A moment later, this man said to Lupin:

  “Well, governor?”

  “Well, it is all fixed.”

  “How?”

  “I am going there to breakfast.”

  “You breakfast—there!”

  “Certainly. Why not? I rescued Mon. Ludovic Imbert from certain death at your hands. Mon. Imbert is not devoid of gratitude. He invited me to breakfast.”

  There was a brief silence. Then the other said:

  “But you are not going to throw up the scheme?”

  “My dear boy,” said Lupin, “When I arranged that little case of assault and battery, when I took the trouble at three o’clock in the morning, to rap you with my cane and tap you with my boot at the risk of injuring my only friend, it was not my intention to forego the advantages to be gained from a rescue so well arranged and executed. Oh! no, not at all.”

  “But the strange rumors we hear about their fortune?”

  “Never mind about that. For six months, I have worked on this affair, investigated it, studied it, questioned the servants, the money-lenders and men of straw; for six months, I have shadowed the husband and wife. Consequently, I know what I am talking about. Whether the fortune came to them from old Brawford, as they pretend, or from some other source, I do not care. I know that it is a reality; that it exists. And some day it will be mine.”

  “Bigre! One hundred millions!”

  “Let us say ten, or even five—that is enough! They have a safe full of bonds, and there will be the devil to pay if I can’t get my hands on them.”

  The tram-car stopped at the Place de l’Etoile. The man whispered to Lupin:

  “What am I to do now?”

  “Nothing, at present. You will hear from me. There is no hurry.”

  Five minutes later, Arsène Lupin was ascending the magnificent flight of stairs in the Imbert mansion, and Mon. Imbert introduced him to his wife. Madame Gervaise Imbert was a short plump woman, and very talkative. She gave Lupin a cordial welcome.

  “I desired that we should be alone to entertain our saviour,” she said.

  From the outset, they treated “our saviour” as an old and valued friend. By the time dessert was served, their friendship was well cemented, and private confidences were being exchanged. Arsène related the story of his life, the life of his father as a magistrate, the sorrows of his childhood, and his present difficulties. Gervaise, in turn, spoke of her youth, her marriage, the kindness of the aged Brawford, the hundred millions that she had inherited, the obstacles that prevented her from obtaining the enjoyment of her inheritance, the moneys she had been obliged to borrow at an exorbitant rate of interest, her endless contentions with Brawford’s nephews, and the litigation! the injunctions! in fact, everything!

  “Just think of it, Monsieur Lupin, the bonds are there, in my husband’s office, and if we detach a single coupon, we lose everything! They are there, in our safe, and we dare not touch them.”

  Monsieur Lupin shivered at the bare idea of his proximity to so much wealth. Yet he felt quite certain that Monsieur Lupin would never suffer from the same difficulty as his fair hostess who declared she dare not touch the money.

  “Ah! they are there!” he repeated, to himself; “they are there!”

&n
bsp; A friendship formed under such circumstances soon led to closer relations. When discreetly questioned, Arsène Lupin confessed his poverty and distress. Immediately, the unfortunate young man was appointed private secretary to the Imberts, husband and wife, at a salary of one hundred francs a month. He was to come to the house every day and receive orders for his work, and a room on the second floor was set apart as his office. This room was directly over Mon. Imbert’s office.

  Arsène soon realized that his position as secretary was essentially a sinecure. During the first two months, he had only four important letters to recopy, and was called only once to Mon. Imbert’s office; consequently, he had only one opportunity to contemplate, officially, the Imbert safe. Moreover, he noticed that the secretary was not invited to the social functions of the employer. But he did not complain, as he preferred to remain, modestly, in the shade and maintain his peace and freedom.

  However, he was not wasting any time. From the beginning, he made clandestine visits to Mon. Imbert’s office, and paid his respects to the safe, which was hermetically closed. It was an immense block of iron and steel, cold and stern in appearance, which could not be forced open by the ordinary tools of the burglar’s trade. But Arsène Lupin was not discouraged.

  “Where force fails, cunning prevails,” he said to himself. “The essential thing is to be on the spot when the opportunity occurs. In the meantime, I must watch and wait.”

  He made immediately some preliminary preparations. After careful soundings made upon the floor of his room, he introduced a lead pipe which penetrated the ceiling of Mon. Imbert’s office at a point between the two screeds of the cornice. By means of this pipe, he hoped to see and hear what transpired in the room below.

  Henceforth, he passed his days stretched at full length upon the floor. He frequently saw the Imberts holding a consultation in front of the safe, investigating books and papers. When they turned the combination lock, he tried to learn the figures and the number of turns they made to the right and left. He watched their movements; he sought to catch their words. There was also a key necessary to complete the opening of the safe. What did they do with it? Did they hide it?