“Admirable! I congratulate you. But how did you manage to catch the eight o’clock train at Havre? How did you escape from The Swallow?”
“I did not escape.”
“But—”
“You ordered the captain not to reach Southampton before one o’clock. He landed me there at midnight. I was able to catch the twelve o’clock boat for Havre.”
“Did the captain betray me? I can’t believe it.”
“No, he did not betray you.”
“Well, what then?”
“It was his watch.”
“His watch?”
“Yes, I put it ahead one hour.”
“How?”
“In the usual way, by turning the hands. We were sitting side by side, talking, and I was telling him some funny stories. … Why! he never saw me do it.”
“Bravo! a very clever trick. I shall not forget it. But the clock that was hanging on the wall of the cabin?”
“Ah! the clock was a more difficult matter, as my feet were tied, but the sailor, who guarded me during the captain’s absence, was kind enough to turn the hands for me.”
“He? Nonsense! He wouldn’t do it.”
“Oh! but he didn’t know the importance of his act. I told him I must catch the first train for London, at any price, and … he allowed himself to be persuaded—”
“By means of—”
“By means of a slight gift, which the excellent fellow, loyal and true to his master, intends to send to you.”
“What was it?”
“A mere trifle.”
“But what?”
“The blue diamond.”
“The blue diamond!”
“Yes, the false stone that you substituted for the Countess’ diamond. She gave it to me.”
There was a sudden explosion of violent laughter. Lupin laughed until the tears started in his eyes.
“Mon Dieu, but it is funny! My false diamond palmed off on my innocent sailor! And the captain’s watch! And the hands of the clock!”
Sholmes felt that the duel between him and Lupin was keener than ever. His marvellous instinct warned him that, behind his adversary’s display of mirth, there was a shrewd intellect debating the ways and means to escape. Gradually Lupin approached the Englishman, who recoiled, and, unconsciously, slipped his hand into his watch-pocket.
“It is three o’clock, Monsieur Lupin.”
“Three o’clock, already? What a pity! We were enjoying our chat so much.”
“I am waiting for your answer.”
“My answer? Mon Dieu! but you are particular! … And so this is the last move in our little game—and the stake is my liberty!”
“Or the blue diamond.”
“Very well. It’s your play. What are you going to do?”
“I play the king,” said Sholmes, as he fired his revolver.
“And I the ace,” replied Lupin, as he struck at Sholmes with his fist.
Sholmes had fired into the air, as a signal to Ganimard, whose assistance he required. But Lupin’s fist had caught Sholmes in the stomach, and caused him to double up with pain. Lupin rushed to the fireplace and set the marble slab in motion. … Too late! The door opened.
“Surrender, Lupin, or I fire!”
Ganimard, doubtless stationed closer than Lupin had thought, Ganimard was there, with his revolver turned on Lupin. And behind Ganimard there were twenty men, strong and ruthless fellows, who would beat him like a dog at the least sign of resistance.
“Hands down! I surrender!” said Lupin, calmly; and he folded his arms across his breast.
Everyone was amazed. In the room, divested of its furniture and hangings, Arsène Lupin’s words sounded like an echo. … “I surrender!” … It seemed incredible. No one would have been astonished if he had suddenly vanished through a trap, or if a section of the wall had rolled away and allowed him to escape. But he surrendered!
Ganimard advanced, nervously, and with all the gravity that the importance of the occasion demanded, he placed his hand on the shoulder of his adversary, and had the infinite pleasure of saying:
“I arrest you, Arsène Lupin.”
“Brrr!” said Lupin, “you make me shiver, my dear Ganimard. What a lugubrious face! One would imagine you were speaking over the grave of a friend. For Heaven’s sake, don’t assume such a funereal air.”
“I arrest you.”
“Don’t let that worry you! In the name of the law, of which he is a well-deserving pillar, Ganimard, the celebrated Parisian detective, arrests the wicked Arsène Lupin. An historic event, of which you will appreciate the true importance. … And it is the second time that it has happened. Bravo, Ganimard, you are sure of advancement in your chosen profession!”
And he held out his wrists for the handcuffs. Ganimard adjusted them in a most solemn manner. The numerous policemen, despite their customary presumption and the bitterness of their feelings toward Lupin, conducted themselves with becoming modesty, astonished at being permitted to gaze upon that mysterious and intangible creature.
“My poor Lupin,” sighed our hero, “what would your aristocratic friends say if they should see you in this humiliating position?”
He pulled his wrists apart with all his strength. The veins in his forehead expanded. The links of the chain cut into his flesh. The chain fell off—broken.
“Another, comrades, that one was useless.”
They placed two on him this time.
“Quite right,” he said. “You cannot be too careful.”
Then, counting the detectives and policemen, he said:
“How many are you, my friends? Twenty-five? Thirty? That’s too many. I can’t do anything. Ah! if there had been only fifteen!”
There was something fascinating about Lupin; it was the fascination of the great actor who plays his role with spirit and understanding, combined with assurance and ease. Sholmes regarded him as one might regard a beautiful painting with a due appreciation of all its perfection in coloring and technique. And he really thought that it was an equal struggle between those thirty men on one side, armed as they were with all the strength and majesty of the law, and, on the
