“You spoke of three pictures.”
“Yes, the one which you see was handed to my predecessor by the heirs of Charles. Louise d’Ernemont possesses another. As for the third, no one knows what became of it.”
Lupin looked at me and continued:
“And do they all bear the same date?”
“Yes, the date inscribed by Charles d’Ernemont when he had them framed, not long before his death. … The same date, that is to say the 15th of April, Year II, according to the revolutionary calendar, as the arrest took place in April, 1794.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” said Lupin. “The figure 2 means. …”
He thought for a few moments and resumed:
“One more question, if I may. Did no one ever come forward to solve the problem?”
Maître Valandier threw up his arms:
“Goodness gracious me!” he cried. “Why, it was the plague of the office! One of my predecessors, Maître Turbon, was summoned to Passy no fewer than eighteen times, between 1820 and 1843, by the groups of heirs, whom fortune-tellers, clairvoyants, visionaries, impostors of all sorts had promised that they would discover the farmer-general’s treasures. At last, we laid down a rule: any outsider applying to institute a search was to begin by depositing a certain sum.”
“What sum?”
“A thousand francs.”
“And did this have the effect of frightening them off?”
“No. Four years ago, an Hungarian hypnotist tried the experiment and made me waste a whole day. After that, we fixed the deposit at five thousand francs. In case of success, a third of the treasure goes to the finder. In case of failure, the deposit is forfeited to the heirs. Since then, I have been left in peace.”
“Here are your five thousand francs.”
The lawyer gave a start:
“Eh? What do you say?”
“I say,” repeated Lupin, taking five banknotes from his pocket and calmly spreading them on the table, “I say that here is the deposit of five thousand francs. Please give me a receipt and invite all the d’Ernemont heirs to meet me at Passy on the 15th of April next year.”
The notary could not believe his senses. I myself, although Lupin had accustomed me to these surprises, was utterly taken back.
“Are you serious?” asked Maître Valandier.
“Perfectly serious.”
“But, you know, I told you my opinion. All these improbable stories rest upon no evidence of any kind.”
“I don’t agree with you,” said Lupin.
The notary gave him the look which we give to a person who is not quite right in his head. Then, accepting the situation, he took his pen and drew up a contract on stamped paper, acknowledging the payment of the deposit by Captain Jeanniot and promising him a third of such moneys as he should discover:
“If you change your mind,” he added, “you might let me know a week before the time comes. I shall not inform the d’Ernemont family until the last moment, so as not to give those poor people too long a spell of hope.”
“You can inform them this very day, Maître Valandier. It will make them spend a happier year.”
We said goodbye. Outside, in the street, I cried:
“So you have hit upon something?”
“I?” replied Lupin. “Not a bit of it! And that’s just what amuses me.”
“But they have been searching for a hundred years!”
“It is not so much a matter of searching as of thinking. Now I have three hundred and sixty-five days to think in. It is a great deal more than I want; and I am afraid that I shall forget all about the business, interesting though it may be. Oblige me by reminding me, will you?”
I reminded him of it several times during the following months, though he never seemed to attach much importance to the matter. Then came a long period during which I had no opportunity of seeing him. It was the period, as I afterward learnt, of his visit to Armenia and of the terrible struggle on which he embarked against Abdul the Damned, a struggle which ended in the tyrant’s downfall.
I used to write to him, however, at the address which he gave me and I was thus able to send him certain particulars which I had succeeded in gathering, here and there, about my neighbour Louise d’Ernemont, such as the love which she had conceived, a few years earlier, for a very rich young man, who still loved her, but who had been compelled by his family to throw her over; the young widow’s despair, and the plucky life which she led with her little daughter.
Lupin replied to none of my letters. I did not know whether they reached him; and, meantime, the date was drawing near and I could not help wondering whether his numerous undertakings would not prevent him from keeping the appointment which he himself had fixed.
As a matter of fact, the morning of the 15th of April arrived and Lupin was not with me by the time I had finished lunch. It was a quarter-past twelve. I left my flat and took a cab to Passy.
I had no sooner entered the lane than I saw the workman’s four brats standing outside the door in the wall. Maître Valandier, informed by them of my arrival, hastened in my direction:
“Well?” he cried. “Where’s Captain Jeanniot?”
“Hasn’t he come?”
“No; and I can assure you that everybody is very impatient to see him.”
The different groups began to crowd round the lawyer; and I noticed that all those faces which I recognized had thrown off the gloomy and despondent expression which they wore a year ago.
“They are full of hope,” said Maître Valandier, “and it is my fault. But what could I do? Your friend made such an impression upon me that I spoke to these good people with a confidence … which I cannot say I feel. However, he seems a queer sort of fellow, this Captain Jeanniot of yours. …”
He asked me many questions and I gave him a number of more or less fanciful details about the captain, to which the heirs listened,
