“Monsieur Sholmes,” said Lupin, “kindly exchange to the other machine. Ours is really a very slow one.”
“Indeed!” said Sholmes, calmly, convinced that he had no choice.
“Also, permit me to loan you a fur coat, as we will travel quite fast and the air is cool. And accept a couple of sandwiches, as we cannot tell when we will dine.”
The four men alighted from the other automobile. One of them approached, and, as he raised his goggles, Sholmes recognized in him the gentleman in the frock coat that he had seen at the Hungarian restaurant. Lupin said to him:
“You will return this machine to the chauffeur from whom I hired it. He is waiting in the first wine-shop to the right as you go up the rue Legendre. You will give him the balance of the thousand francs I promised him. … Ah! yes, kindly give your goggles to Monsieur Sholmes.”
He talked to Mlle. Destange for a moment, then took his place at the wheel and started, with Sholmes at his side and one of his men behind him. Lupin had not exaggerated when he said “we will travel quite fast.” From the beginning he set a breakneck pace. The horizon rushed to meet them, as if attracted by some mysterious force, and disappeared instantly as though swallowed up in an abyss, into which many other things, such as trees, houses, fields and forests, were hurled with the tumultuous fury and haste of a torrent as it approached the cataract.
Sholmes and Lupin did not exchange a word. Above their heads the leaves of the poplars made a great noise like the waves of the sea, rhythmically arranged by the regular spacing of the trees. And the towns swept by like spectres: Manteo, Vernon, Gaillon. From one hill to the other, from Bon-Secours to Canteleu, Rouen, its suburbs, its harbor, its miles of wharves, Rouen seemed like the straggling street of a country village. And this was Duclair, Caudebec, the country of Caux which they skimmed over in their terrific flight, and Lillebonne, and Quillebeuf. Then, suddenly, they found themselves on the banks of the Seine, at the extremity of a little wharf, beside which lay a staunch seagoing yacht that emitted great volumes of black smoke from its funnel.
The automobile stopped. In two hours they had traveled over forty leagues.
A man, wearing a blue uniform and a goldlaced cap, came forward and saluted. Lupin said to him:
“All ready, captain? Did you receive my telegram?”
“Yes, I got it.”
“Is The Swallow ready?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
“Come, Monsieur Sholmes.”
The Englishman looked around, saw a group of people on the terrace in front of a café, hesitated a moment, then, realizing that before he could secure any assistance he would be seized, carried aboard and placed in the bottom of the hold, he crossed the gangplank and followed Lupin into the captain’s cabin. It was quite a large room, scrupulously clean, and presented a cheerful appearance with its varnished woodwork and polished brass. Lupin closed the door and addressed Sholmes abruptly, and almost rudely, as he said:
“Well, what do you know?”
“Everything.”
“Everything? Come, be precise.”
His voice contained no longer that polite, if ironical, tone, which he had affected when speaking to the Englishman. Now, his voice had the imperious tone of a master accustomed to command and accustomed to be obeyed—even by a Herlock Sholmes. They measured each other by their looks, enemies now—open and implacable foes. Lupin spoke again, but in a milder tone:
“I have grown weary of your pursuit, and do not intend to waste any more time in avoiding the traps you lay for me. I warn you that my treatment of you will depend on your reply. Now, what do you know?”
“Everything, monsieur.”
Arsène Lupin controlled his temper and said, in a jerky manner:
“I will tell you what you know. You know that, under the name of Maxime Bermond, I have … improved fifteen houses that were originally constructed by Monsieur Destange.”
“Yes.”
“Of those fifteen houses, you have seen four.”
“Yes.”
“And you have a list of the other eleven.”
“Yes.”
“You made that list at Monsieur Destange’s house on that night, no doubt.”
“Yes.”
“And you have an idea that, amongst those eleven houses, there is one that I have kept for the use of myself and my friends, and you have entrusted to Ganimard the task of finding my retreat.”
“No.”
“What does that signify?”
“It signifies that I choose to act alone, and do not want his help.”
“Then I have nothing to fear, since you are in my hands.”
“You have nothing to fear as long as I remain in your hands.”
“You mean that you will not remain?”
“Yes.”
Arsène Lupin approached the Englishman and, placing his hand on the latter’s shoulder, said:
“Listen, monsieur; I am not in a humor to argue with you, and, unfortunately for you, you are not in a position to choose. So let us finish our business.”
“Very well.”
“You are going to give me your word of honor that you will not try to escape from this boat until you arrive in English waters.”
“I give you my word of honor that I shall escape if I have an opportunity,” replied the indomitable Sholmes.
“But, sapristi! you know quite well that at a word from me you would soon be rendered helpless. All these men will obey me blindly. At a sign from me they would place you in irons—”
“Irons can be broken.”
“And throw you overboard ten miles from shore.”
“I can swim.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Lupin, with a laugh. “Excuse me, master … and let us finish. You will agree that I must take the measures necessary to protect myself and my friends.”
“Certainly; but they will be useless.”
“And yet you do not wish me to take them.”
“It is your duty.”
“Very well, then.”
Lupin opened the door and called the captain and two sailors. The latter seized
