Lupin turned livid. He spluttered:
“Oh, did Shears get … as far as … this?”
“Yes, after four days’ searching. True, it did not help us, for we found nothing. All the same, I know that the letters are not here.”
Trembling with rage, wounded in his innermost pride, Lupin fired up under the gibe, as though he had been lashed with a whip. He had never felt humiliated to such a degree as this. In this fury, he could have strangled the fat Waldemar, whose laughter incensed him. Containing himself with an effort, he said:
“It took Shears four days, Sire, and me only four hours. And I should have required even less, if I had not been thwarted in my search.”
“And by whom, bless my soul? By my faithful count? I hope he did not dare … !”
“No, Sire, but by the most terrible and powerful of my enemies, by that infernal being who killed his own accomplice Altenheim.”
“Is he here? Do you think so?” exclaimed the Emperor, with an agitation which showed that he was familiar with every detail of the dramatic story.
“He is wherever I am. He threatens me with his constant hatred. It was he who guessed that I was M. Lenormand, the chief of the detective-service; it was he who had me put in prison; it was he, again, who pursued me, on the day when I came out. Yesterday, aiming at me in the motor, he wounded Count von Waldemar.”
“But how do you know, how can you be sure that he is at Veldenz?”
“Isilda has received two gold coins, two French coins!”
“And what is he here for? With what object?”
“I don’t know, Sire, but he is the very spirit of evil. Your Imperial Majesty must be on your guard: he is capable of anything and everything.”
“It is impossible! I have two hundred men in the ruins. He cannot have entered. He would have been seen.”
“Someone has seen him, beyond a doubt.”
“Who?”
“Isilda.”
“Let her be questioned! Waldemar, take your prisoner to where the girl is.”
Lupin showed his bound hands:
“It will be a tough battle. Can I fight like this?”
The Emperor said to the count:
“Unfasten him. … And keep me informed.”
In this way, by a sudden effort, bringing the hateful vision of the murder into the discussion, boldly, without evidence, Arsène Lupin gained time and resumed the direction of the search:
“Sixteen hours still,” he said to himself, “it’s more than I want.”
He reached the premises occupied by Isilda, at the end of the old outbuildings. These buildings served as barracks for the two hundred soldiers guarding the ruins; and the whole of this, the left wing, was reserved for the officers.
Isilda was not there. The count sent two of his men to look for her. They came back. No one had seen the girl.
Nevertheless, she could not have left the precincts of the ruins. As for the Renaissance palace, it was, so to speak, invested by one-half of the troops; and no one was able to obtain admittance.
At last, the wife of a subaltern who lived in the next house declared that she had been sitting at her window all day and that the girl had not been out.
“If she hadn’t gone out,” said Waldemar, “she would be here now: and she is not here.”
Lupin observed:
“Is there a floor above?”
“Yes, but from this room to the upper floor there is no staircase.”
“Yes, there is.”
He pointed to a little door opening on a dark recess. In the shadow, he saw the first treads of a staircase as steep as a ladder.
“Please, my dear count,” he said to Waldemar, who wanted to go up, “let me have the honor.”
“Why?”
“There’s danger.”
He ran up and at once sprang into a low and narrow loft. A cry escaped him:
“Oh!”
“What is it?” asked the count, emerging in his turn.
“Here … on the floor. … Isilda. …”
He knelt down beside the girl, but, at the first glance, saw that she was simply stunned and that she bore no trace of a wound, except a few scratches on the wrists and hands. A handkerchief was stuffed into her mouth by way of a gag.
“That’s it,” he said. “The murderer was here with her. When we came, he struck her a blow with his fist and gagged her so that we should not hear her moans.”
“But how did he get away?”
“Through here … look … there is a passage connecting all the attics on the first floor.”
“And from there?”
“From there, he went down the stairs of one of the other dwellings.”
“But he would have been seen!”
“Pooh, who knows? The creature’s invisible. Never mind! Send your men to look. Tell them to search all the attics and all the ground-floor lodgings.”
He hesitated. Should he also go in pursuit of the murderer?
But a sound brought him back to the girl’s side. She had got up from the floor and a dozen pieces of gold money had dropped from her hands. He examined them. They were all French.
“Ah,” he said, “I was right! Only, why so much gold? In reward for what?”
Suddenly, he caught sight of a book on the floor and stooped to pick it up. But the girl darted forward with a quicker movement, seized the book and pressed it to her bosom with a fierce energy, as though prepared to defend it against any attempt to take hold of it.
“That’s it,” he said. “The money was offered her for the book, but she refused to part with it. Hence the scratches on the hands. The interesting thing would be to know why the murderer wished to possess the book. Was he able to look through it first?”
He said to Waldemar:
“My dear count, please give the order.”
Waldemar made a sign to his men. Three of them threw themselves on the girl and,
