“What were those clothes for?”
“To disguise myself. When I went to the Glycines my plan was this: to hand Altenheim over to the police, to suppress my own identity as Prince Sernine and to reappear under the features. …”
“Of M. Lenormand, I suppose?”
“Exactly.”
“No.”
“What!”
M. Formerie gave a knowing smile and wagged his forefinger from left to right and right to left:
“No,” he repeated.
“What do you mean by ‘no’?”
“That story about M. Lenormand. …”
“Well?”
“Will do for the public, my friend. But you won’t make M. Formerie swallow that Lupin and Lenormand were one and the same man.” He burst out laughing. “Lupin, chief of the detective-service! No, anything you like, but not that! … There are limits. … I am an easygoing fellow. … I’ll believe anything … but still. … Come, between ourselves, what was the reason of this fresh hoax? … I confess I can’t see …”
Lupin looked at him in astonishment. In spite of all that he knew of M. Formerie, he could not conceive such a degree of infatuation and blindness. There was at that moment only one person in the world who refused to believe in Prince Sernine’s double personality; and that was M. Formerie! …
Lupin turned to the deputy-chief, who stood listening open-mouthed:
“My dear Weber, I fear your promotion is not so certain as I thought. For, you see, if M. Lenormand is not myself, then he exists … and, if he exists, I have no doubt that M. Formerie, with all his acumen, will end by discovering him … in which case …”
“We shall discover him all right, M. Lupin,” cried the examining-magistrate. “I’ll undertake that, and I tell you that, when you and he are confronted, we shall see some fun.” He chuckled and drummed with his fingers on the table. “How amusing! Oh, one’s never bored when you’re there, that I’ll say for you! So you’re M. Lenormand, and it’s you who arrested your accomplice Marco!”
“Just so! Wasn’t it my duty to please the prime minister and save the cabinet? The fact is historical.”
M. Formerie held his sides:
“Oh, I shall die of laughing, I know I shall! Lord, what a joke! That answer will travel round the world. So, according to your theory, it was with you that I made the first enquiries at the Palace Hotel after the murder of Mr. Kesselbach? …”
“Surely it was with me that you investigated the case of the stolen coronet when I was Duc de Chamerace,”8 retorted Lupin, in a sarcastic voice.
M. Formerie gave a start. All his merriment was dispelled by that odious recollection. Turning suddenly grave, he asked:
“So you persist in that absurd theory?”
“I must, because it is the truth. It would be easy for you to take a steamer to Cochin-China and to find at Saigon the proofs of the death of the real M. Lenormand, the worthy man whom I replaced and whose death-certificate I can show you.”
“Humbug!”
“Upon my word, Monsieur le Juge d’Instruction, I don’t care one way or the other. If it annoys you that I should be M. Lenormand, don’t let’s talk about it. We won’t talk about myself; we won’t talk about anything at all, if you prefer. Besides, of what use can it be to you? The Kesselbach case is such a tangled affair that I myself don’t know where I stand. There’s only one man who might help you. I have not succeeded in discovering him. And I don’t think that you …”
“What’s the man’s name?”
“He’s an old man, a German called Steinweg. … But, of course, you’ve heard about him, Weber, and the way in which he was carried off in the middle of the Palais de Justice?”
M. Formerie threw an inquiring glance at the deputy-chief. M. Weber said:
“I undertake to bring that person to you, Monsieur le Juge d’Instruction.”
“So that’s done,” said M. Formerie, rising from his chair. “As you see, Lupin, this was merely a formal examination to bring the two duelists together. Now that we have crossed swords, all that we need is the necessary witness of our fencing-match, your counsel.”
“Tut! Is it indispensable?”
“Indispensable.”
“Employ counsel in view of such an unlikely trial?”
“You must.”
“In that case, I’ll choose Maître Quimbel.”
“The president of the corporation of the bar. You are wise, you will be well defended.”
The first sitting was over. M. Weber led the prisoner away.
As he went down the stairs of the “mousetrap,” between the two Doudevilles, Lupin said, in short, imperative sentences:
“Watch Steinweg. … Don’t let him speak to anybody. … Be there tomorrow. … I’ll give you some letters … one for you … important.”
Downstairs, he walked up to the municipal guards surrounding the taxicab:
“Home, boys,” he exclaimed, “and quick about it! I have an appointment with myself for two o’clock precisely.”
There were no incidents during the drive. On returning to his cell, Lupin wrote a long letter, full of detailed instructions, to the brothers Doudeville and, two other letters.
One was for Geneviève:
“Geneviève, you now know who I am and you will understand why I concealed from you the name of him who twice carried you away in his arms when you were a little girl.
“Geneviève, I was your mother’s friend, a distant friend, of whose double life she knew nothing, but upon whom she thought that she could rely. And that is why, before dying, she wrote me a few lines asking me to watch over you.
“Unworthy as I am of your esteem, Geneviève, I shall continue faithful to that trust. Do not drive me from your heart entirely.
The other letter was addressed to Dolores Kesselbach:
“Prince Sernine was led to seek Mrs. Kesselbach’s acquaintance by motives of self-interest alone. But a great longing to devote himself to her was the cause of his continuing it.
“Now that Prince Sernine has become merely Arsène Lupin, he begs Mrs. Kesselbach not to deprive him of the right of protecting her, at a distance and as a man protects one whom he will never see again.”
There were some envelopes on the table. He
