“Well, master,” said Lupin to the Englishman, “this is your work. Thanks to you, Lupin is going to rot on the damp straw of a dungeon. Confess that your conscience pricks you a little, and that your soul is filled with remorse.”
In spite of himself, Sholmes shrugged his shoulders, as if to say: “It’s your own fault.”
“Never! never!” exclaimed Lupin. “Give you the blue diamond? Oh! no, it has cost me too much trouble. I intend to keep it. On my occasion of my first visit to you in London—which will probably be next month—I will tell you my reasons. But will you be in London next month? Or do you prefer Vienna? Or Saint Petersburg?”
Then Lupin received a surprise. A bell commenced to ring. It was not the alarm-bell, but the bell of the telephone which was located between the two windows of the room and had not yet been removed.
The telephone! Ah! Who could it be? Who was about to fall into this unfortunate trap? Arsène Lupin exhibited an access of rage against the unlucky instrument as if he would like to break it into a thousand pieces and thus stifle the mysterious voice that was calling for him. But it was Ganimard who took down the receiver, and said:
“Hello! … Hello! … number 648.73 … yes, this is it.”
Then Sholmes stepped up, and, with an air of authority, pushed Ganimard aside, took the receiver, and covered the transmitter with his handkerchief in order to obscure the tone of his voice. At that moment he glanced toward Lupin, and the look which they exchanged indicated that the same idea had occurred to each of them, and that they foresaw the ultimate result of that theory: it was the blonde Lady who was telephoning. She wished to telephone to Felix Davey, or rather to Maxime Bermond, and it was to Sholmes she was about to speak. The Englishman said:
“Hello … Hello!”
Then, after a silence, he said:
“Yes, it is I, Maxime.”
The drama had commenced and was progressing with tragic precision. Lupin, the irrepressible and nonchalant Lupin, did not attempt to conceal his anxiety, and he strained every nerve in a desire to hear or, at least, to divine the purport of the conversation. And Sholmes continued, in reply to the mysterious voice:
“Hello! … Hello! … Yes, everything has been moved, and I am just ready to leave here and meet you as we agreed. … Where? … Where you are now. … Don’t believe that he is here yet! …”
Sholmes stopped, seeking for words. It was clear that he was trying to question the girl without betraying himself, and that he was ignorant of her whereabouts. Moreover, Ganimard’s presence seemed to embarrass him. … Ah! if some miracle would only interrupt that cursed conversation! Lupin prayed for it with all his strength, with all the intensity of his incited nerves! After a momentary pause, Sholmes continued:
“Hello! … Hello! … Do you hear me? … I can’t hear you very well. … Can scarcely make out what you say. … Are you listening? Well, I think you had better return home. … No danger now. … But he is in England! I have received a telegram from Southampton announcing his arrival.”
The sarcasm of those words! Sholmes uttered them with an inexpressible comfort. And he added:
“Very well, don’t lose any time. I will meet you there.”
He hung up the receiver.
“Monsieur Ganimard, can you furnish me with three men?”
“For the blonde Lady, eh?”
“Yes.”
“You know who she is, and where she is?”
“Yes.”
“Good! That settles Monsieur Lupin. … Folenfant, take two men, and go with Monsieur Sholmes.”
The Englishman departed, accompanied by the three men.
The game was ended. The blonde Lady was, also, about to fall into the hands of the Englishman. Thanks to his commendable persistence and to a combination of fortuitous circumstances, the battle had resulted in a victory for the detective, and in irreparable disaster for Lupin.
“Monsieur Sholmes!”
The Englishman stopped.
“Monsieur Lupin?”
Lupin was clearly shattered by this final blow. His forehead was marked by deep wrinkles. He was sullen and dejected. However, he pulled himself together, and, notwithstanding his defeat, he exclaimed, in a cheerful tone:
“You will concede that fate has been against me. A few minutes ago, it prevented my escape through that chimney, and delivered me into your hands. Now, by means of the telephone, it presents you with the blonde Lady. I submit to its decrees.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I am ready to reopen our negotiation.”
Sholmes took Ganimard aside and asked, in a manner that did not permit a reply, the authority to exchange a few words with the prisoner. Then he approached Lupin, and said, in a sharp, nervous tone:
“What do you want?”
“Mademoiselle Destange’s liberty.”
“You know the price.”
“Yes.”
“And you accept?”
“Yes; I accept your terms.”
“Ah!” said the Englishman, in surprise, “but … you refused … for yourself—”
“Yes, I can look out for myself, Monsieur Sholmes, but now the question concerns a young woman … and a woman I love. In France, understand, we have very decided ideas about such things. And Lupin has the same feelings as other people.”
He spoke with simplicity and candor. Sholmes replied by an almost imperceptible inclination of his head, and murmured:
“Very well, the blue diamond.”
“Take my cane, there, at the end of the mantel. Press on the head of the cane with one hand, and, with the other, turn the iron ferrule at the bottom.”
Holmes took the cane and followed the directions. As he did so, the head of the cane divided and disclosed a cavity which contained a small ball of wax which, in turn, enclosed a diamond. He examined it. It was the blue diamond.
“Monsieur Lupin, Mademoiselle Destange is free.”
“Is her future safety assured? Has she nothing to fear from you?”
“Neither from me, nor anyone else.”
“How can you manage it?”
“Quite easily. I have forgotten her name and address.”
“Thank you. And au revoir—for I will see you again, sometime, Monsieur Sholmes?”
“I have no doubt of it.”
Then followed an animated conversation between Sholmes and Ganimard, which was abruptly terminated by the Englishman, who
