“Then speak. For that matter, nothing that you reveal will be put down in black on white. One word more, though: I ask you for the last time, is it indispensable that the prisoner should be present at this interview?”
“Quite indispensable. You will see the reason for yourself.”
He drew the chair up to the magistrate’s desk, Lupin remained standing, near the clerk. And the old man, speaking in a loud voice, said:
“It is now ten years since a series of circumstances, which I need not enter into, made me acquainted with an extraordinary story in which two persons are concerned.”
“Their names, please.”
“I will give the names presently. For the moment, let me say that one of these persons occupies an exceptional position in France, and that the other, an Italian, or rather a Spaniard … yes, a Spaniard …”
A bound across the room, followed by two formidable blows of the fist. … Lupin’s two arms had darted out to right and left, as though impelled by springs and his two fists, hard as cannon balls, caught the magistrate and his clerk on the jaw, just below the ear.
The magistrate and the clerk collapsed over their tables, in two lumps, without a moan.
“Well hit!” said Lupin. “That was a neat bit of work.”
He went to the door and locked it softly. Then returning:
“Steinweg, have you the chloroform?”
“Are you quite sure that they have fainted?” asks the old man, trembling with fear.
“What do you think! But it will only last for three or four minutes. … And that is not long enough.”
The German produced from his pocket a bottle and two pads of cotton-wool, ready prepared.
Lupin uncorked the bottle, poured a few drops of the chloroform on the two pads and held them to the noses of the magistrate and his clerk.
“Capital! We have ten minutes of peace and quiet before us. That will do, but let’s make haste, all the same; and not a word too much, old man, do you hear?” He took him by the arm. “You see what I am able to do. Here we are, alone in the very heart of the Palais de Justice, because I wished it.”
“Yes,” said the old man.
“So you are going to tell me your secret?”
“Yes, I told it to Kesselbach, because he was rich and could turn it to better account than anybody I knew; but, prisoner and absolutely powerless though you are, I consider you a hundred times as strong as Kesselbach with his hundred millions.”
“In that case, speak; and let us take things in their proper order. The name of the murderer?”
“That’s impossible.”
“How do you mean, impossible? I thought you knew it and were going to tell me everything!”
“Everything, but not that.”
“But …”
“Later on.”
“You’re mad! Why?”
“I have no proofs. Later, when you are free, we will hunt together. Besides, what’s the good? And then, really, I can’t tell you.”
“You’re afraid of him?”
“Yes.”
“Very well,” said Lupin. “After all, that’s not the most urgent matter. As to the rest, you’ve made up your mind to speak?”
“Without reserve.”
“Well, then, answer. Who is Pierre Leduc?”
“Hermann IV, Grand Duke of Zweibrucken-Veldenz, Prince of Berncastel, Count of Fistingen, Lord of Wiesbaden and other places.”
Lupin felt a thrill of joy at learning that his protégé was definitely not the son of a pork-butcher!
“The devil!” he muttered. “So we have a handle to our name! … As far as I remember, the Grand-duchy of Zweibrucken-Veldenz is in Prussia?”
“Yes, on the Moselle. The house of Veldenz is a branch of the Palatine house of Zweibrucken. The grand-duchy was occupied by the French after the peace of Luneville and formed part of the department of Mont-Tonnerre. In 1814, it was restored in favor of Hermann I, the great grandfather of Pierre Leduc. His son, Hermann II, spent a riotous youth, ruined himself, squandered the finances of his country and made himself impossible to his subjects, who ended by partly burning the old castle at Veldenz and driving their sovereign out of his dominions. The grand-duchy was then administered and governed by three regents, in the name of Hermann II, who, by a curious anomaly, did not abdicate, but retained his title as reigning grand-duke. He lived, rather short of cash, in Berlin; later, he fought in the French war, by the side of Bismarck, of whom he was a friend. He was killed by a shell at the siege of Paris and, in dying, entrusted Bismarck with the charge of his son Hermann, that is, Hermann III.”
“The father, therefore, of our Leduc,” said Lupin.
“Yes. The chancellor took a liking to Hermann III, and used often to employ him as a secret envoy to persons of distinction abroad. At the fall of his patron Hermann III, left Berlin, travelled about and returned and settled in Dresden. When Bismarck died, Hermann III, was there. He himself died two years later. These are public facts, known to everybody in Germany; and that is the story of the three Hermanns, Grand-dukes of Zweibrucken-Veldenz in the nineteenth century.”
“But the fourth, Hermann IV, the one in whom we are interested?”
“We will speak of him presently. Let us now pass on to unknown facts.”
“Facts known to you alone,” said Lupin.
“To me alone and to a few others.”
“How do you mean, a few others? Hasn’t the secret been kept?”
“Yes, yes, the secret has been well kept by all who know it. Have no fear; it is very much to their interest, I assure you, not to divulge it.”
“Then how do you know it?”
“Through an old servant and private secretary of the Grand-duke Hermann, the last of the name. This servant, who died in my arms in South Africa, began by confiding to me that his master was secretly married and had left a son behind him. Then he told me the great secret.”
“The one which you afterwards revealed to Kesselbach.”
“Yes.”
“One second … Will you excuse me? …”
Lupin bent over M. Formerie, satisfied himself that all was well and the heart beating normally, and
