In the vestibule he turned toward a low door which looked like the entrance to a cellar, and picked up a small red stone; it was a garnet. When he reached the street he turned and read on the front of the house this inscription: “Lucien Destange, architect, 1877.”
The adjoining house, No. 42, bore the same inscription.
“Always the double passage—numbers 40 and 42 have a secret means of communication. Why didn’t I think of that? I should have remained with the two policemen.”
He met the policemen near the corner and said to them:
“Two people came out of house No. 42 during my absence, didn’t they?”
“Yes; a gentleman and lady.”
Ganimard approached. Sholmes took his arm, and as they walked down the street he said:
“Monsieur Ganimard, you have had a good laugh and will no doubt forgive me for the trouble I have caused you.”
“Oh! there’s no harm done; but it was a good joke.”
“I admit that; but the best jokes have only a short life, and this one can’t last much longer.”
“I hope not.”
“This is now the seventh day, and I can remain only three days more. Then I must return to London.”
“Oh!”
“I wish to ask you to be in readiness, as I may call on you at any hour on Tuesday or Wednesday night.”
“For an expedition of the same kind as we had tonight?”
“Yes, monsieur, the very same.”
“With what result?”
“The capture of Arsène Lupin,” replied Sholmes.
“Do you think so?”
“I swear it, on my honor, monsieur.”
Sholmes bade Ganimard goodbye and went to the nearest hotel for a few hours’ sleep; after which, refreshed and with renewed confidence in himself, he returned to the rue Chalgrin, slipped two louis into the hand of the concierge, assured himself that the brothers Leroux had gone out, learned that the house belonged to a Monsieur Harmingeat, and, provided with a candle, descended to the cellar through the low door near which he had found the garnet. At the bottom of the stairs he found another exactly like it.
“I am not mistaken,” he thought; “this is the means of communication. Let me see if my skeleton-key will open the cellar reserved for the tenant of the ground floor. Yes; it will. Now, I will examine those cases of wine … oh! oh! here are some places where the dust has been cleared away … and some footprints on the ground. …”
A slight noise caused him to listen attentively. Quickly he pushed the door shut, blew out his candle and hid behind a pile of empty wine cases. After a few seconds he noticed that a portion of the wall swung on a pivot, the light of a lantern was thrown into the cellar, an arm appeared, then a man entered.
He was bent over, as if he were searching for something. He felt in the dust with his fingers and several times he threw something into a cardboard box that he carried in his left hand. Afterward he obliterated the traces of his footsteps, as well as the footprints left by Lupin and the blonde lady, and he was about to leave the cellar by the same way as he had entered, when he uttered a harsh cry and fell to the ground. Sholmes had leaped upon him. It was the work of a moment, and in the simplest manner in the world the man found himself stretched on the ground, bound and handcuffed. The Englishman leaned over him and said:
“Have you anything to say? … To tell what you know?”
The man replied by such an ironical smile that Sholmes realized the futility of questioning him. So he contented himself by exploring the pockets of his captive, but he found only a bunch of keys, a handkerchief and the small cardboard box which contained a dozen garnets similar to those which Sholmes had found.
Then what was he to do with the man? Wait until his friends came to his help and deliver all of them to the police? What good would that do? What advantage would that give him over Lupin?
He hesitated; but an examination of the box decided the question. The box bore this name and address: “Leonard, jeweler, rue de la Paix.”
He resolved to abandon the man to his fate. He locked the cellar and left the house. At a branch postoffice he sent a telegram to Monsieur Destange, saying that he could not come that day. Then he went to see the jeweler and, handing him the garnets, said:
“Madame sent me with these stones. She wishes to have them reset.”
Sholmes had struck the right key. The jeweler replied:
“Certainly; the lady telephoned to me. She said she would be here today.”
Sholmes established himself on the sidewalk to wait for the lady, but it was five o’clock when he saw a heavily-veiled lady approach and enter the store. Through the window he saw her place on the counter a piece of antique jewelry set with garnets.
She went away almost immediately, walking quickly and passed through streets that were unknown to the Englishman. As it was now almost dark, he walked close behind her and followed her into a five-story house of double flats and, therefore, occupied by numerous tenants. At the second floor she stopped and entered. Two minutes later the Englishman commenced to try the keys on the bunch he had taken from the man in the rue Chalgrin. The fourth key fitted the lock.
Notwithstanding the darkness of the rooms, he perceived that they were absolutely empty, as if unoccupied, and the various doors were standing open so that he could see all the apartments. At the end of a corridor he perceived a ray of light and, by approaching on tiptoe and looking through the glass door, he saw the veiled lady who had removed her hat and
