As a matter of fact, on the evening of that second day, M. Dudouis was called to the telephone.
“Is that you, chief?”
“Is it Ganimard speaking?”
Cautious men both, they began by making sure of each other’s identity. As soon as his mind was eased on this point, Ganimard continued, hurriedly:
“Ten men, chief, at once. And please come yourself.”
“Where are you?”
“In the house, on the ground-floor. But I will wait for you just inside the garden-gate.”
“I’ll come at once. In a taxi, of course?”
“Yes, chief. Stop the taxi fifty yards from the house. I’ll let you in when you whistle.”
Things took place as Ganimard had arranged. Shortly after midnight, when all the lights were out on the upper floors, he slipped into the street and went to meet M. Dudouis. There was a hurried consultation. The officers distributed themselves as Ganimard ordered. Then the chief and the chief-inspector walked back together, noiselessly crossed the garden and closeted themselves with every precaution:
“Well, what’s it all about?” asked M. Dudouis. “What does all this mean? Upon my word, we look like a pair of conspirators!”
But Ganimard was not laughing. His chief had never seen him in such a state of perturbation, nor heard him speak in a voice denoting such excitement:
“Any news, Ganimard?”
“Yes, chief, and … this time … ! But I can hardly believe it myself. … And yet I’m not mistaken: I know the real truth. … It may be as unlikely as you please, but it is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
He wiped away the drops of perspiration that trickled down his forehead and, after a further question from M. Dudouis, pulled himself together, swallowed a glass of water and began:
“Lupin has often got the better of me. …”
“Look here, Ganimard,” said M. Dudouis, interrupting him. “Why can’t you come straight to the point? Tell me, in two words, what’s happened.”
“No, chief,” retorted the chief-inspector, “it is essential that you should know the different stages which I have passed through. Excuse me, but I consider it indispensable.” And he repeated: “I was saying, chief, that Lupin has often got the better of me and led me many a dance. But, in this contest in which I have always come out worst … so far … I have at least gained experience of his manner of play and learnt to know his tactics. Now, in the matter of the tapestries, it occurred to me almost from the start to set myself two problems. In the first place, Lupin, who never makes a move without knowing what he is after, was obviously aware that Colonel Sparmiento had come to the end of his money and that the loss of the tapestries might drive him to suicide. Nevertheless, Lupin, who hates the very thought of bloodshed, stole the tapestries.”
“There was the inducement,” said M. Dudouis, “of the five or six hundred thousand francs which they are worth.”
“No, chief, I tell you once more, whatever the occasion might be, Lupin would not take life, nor be the cause of another person’s death, for anything in this world, for millions and millions. That’s the first point. In the second place, what was the object of all that disturbance, in the evening, during the housewarming party? Obviously, don’t you think, to surround the business with an atmosphere of anxiety and terror, in the shortest possible time, and also to divert suspicion from the truth, which, otherwise, might easily have been suspected? … You seem not to understand, chief?”
“Upon my word, I do not!”
“As a matter of fact,” said Ganimard, “as a matter of fact, it is not particularly plain. And I myself, when I put the problem before my mind in those same words, did not understand it very clearly. … And yet I felt that I was on the right track. … Yes, there was no doubt about it that Lupin wanted to divert suspicions … to divert them to himself, Lupin, mark you … so that the real person who was working the business might remain unknown. …”
“A confederate,” suggested M. Dudouis. “A confederate, moving among the visitors, who set the alarms going … and who managed to hide in the house after the party had broken up.”
“You’re getting warm, chief, you’re getting warm! It is certain that the tapestries, as they cannot have been stolen by anyone making his way surreptitiously into the house, were stolen by somebody who remained in the house; and it is equally certain that, by taking the list of the people invited and inquiring into the antecedents of each of them, one might. …”
“Well?”
“Well, chief, there’s a ‘but,’ namely, that the three detectives had this list in their hands when the guests arrived and that they still had it when the guests left. Now sixty-three came in and sixty-three went away. So you see. …”
“Then do you suppose a servant? …”
“No.”
“The detectives?”
“No.”
“But, still … but, still,” said the chief, impatiently, “if the robbery was committed from the inside. …”
“That is beyond dispute,” declared the inspector, whose excitement seemed to be nearing fever-point. “There is no question about it. All my investigations led to the same certainty. And my conviction gradually became so positive that I ended, one day, by drawing up this startling axiom: in theory and in fact, the robbery can only have been committed with the assistance of an accomplice staying in the house. Whereas there was no accomplice!”
“That’s absurd,” said Dudouis.
“Quite absurd,” said Ganimard. “But, at the very moment when I uttered that absurd sentence, the truth flashed upon me.”
“Eh?”
“Oh, a very dim, very incomplete, but still sufficient truth! With that clue to guide me, I was bound to find the way. Do you follow me, chief?”
M. Dudouis sat silent. The same phenomenon that had taken place in Ganimard was evidently taking place in him. He muttered:
“If it’s not one of the guests, nor the servants, nor the private detectives, then there’s no one left. …”
“Yes, chief, there’s one left. …”
M. Dudouis started as though he had
