The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Burglar

got the worst of it. Do you know the part I played in that affair, or rather the part they made me play? That of André Brawford! Yes, my boy, that is the truth, and I never suspected it. It was not until afterwards, on reading the newspapers, that the light finally dawned in my stupid brain. Whilst I was posing as his ‘saviour,’ as the gentleman who had risked his life to rescue Mon. Imbert from the clutches of an assassin, they were passing me off as Brawford. Wasn’t that splendid? That eccentric individual who had a room on the second floor, that barbarian that was exhibited only at a distance, was Brawford, and Brawford was I! Thanks to me, and to the confidence that I inspired under the name of Brawford, they were enabled to borrow money from the bankers and other moneylenders. Ha! what an experience for a novice! And I swear to you that I shall profit by the lesson!”

He stopped, seized my arm, and said to me, in a tone of exasperation:

“My dear fellow, at this very moment, Gervaise Imbert owes me fifteen hundred francs.”

I could not refrain from laughter, his rage was so grotesque. He was making a mountain out of a molehill. In a moment, he laughed himself, and said:

“Yes, my boy, fifteen hundred francs. You must know that I had not received one sou of my promised salary, and, more than that, she had borrowed from me the sum of fifteen hundred francs. All my youthful savings! And do you know why? To devote the money to charity! I am giving you a straight story. She wanted it for some poor people she was assisting⁠—unknown to her husband. And my hard-earned money was wormed out of me by that silly pretense! Isn’t it amusing, hein? Arsène Lupin done out of fifteen hundred francs by the fair lady from whom he stole four millions in counterfeit bonds! And what a vast amount of time and patience and cunning I expended to achieve that result! It was the first time in my life that I was played for a fool, and I frankly confess that I was fooled that time to the queen’s taste!”

VIII

The Black Pearl

A violent ringing of the bell awakened the concierge of number nine, avenue Hoche. She pulled the doorstring, grumbling:

“I thought everybody was in. It must be three o’clock!”

“Perhaps it is someone for the doctor,” muttered her husband.

“Third floor, left. But the doctor won’t go out at night.”

“He must go tonight.”

The visitor entered the vestibule, ascended to the first floor, the second, the third, and, without stopping at the doctor’s door, he continued to the fifth floor. There, he tried two keys. One of them fitted the lock.

“Ah! good!” he murmured, “that simplifies the business wonderfully. But before I commence work I had better arrange for my retreat. Let me see⁠ ⁠… have I had sufficient time to rouse the doctor and be dismissed by him? Not yet⁠ ⁠… a few minutes more.”

At the end of ten minutes, he descended the stairs, grumbling noisily about the doctor. The concierge opened the door for him and heard it click behind him. But the door did not lock, as the man had quickly inserted a piece of iron in the lock in such a manner that the bolt could not enter. Then, quietly, he entered the house again, unknown to the concierge. In case of alarm, his retreat was assured. Noiselessly, he ascended to the fifth floor once more. In the antechamber, by the light of his electric lantern, he placed his hat and overcoat on one of the chairs, took a seat on another, and covered his heavy shoes with felt slippers.

“Ouf! Here I am⁠—and how simple it was! I wonder why more people do not adopt the profitable and pleasant occupation of burglar. With a little care and reflection, it becomes a most delightful profession. Not too quiet and monotonous, of course, as it would then become wearisome.”

He unfolded a detailed plan of the apartment.

“Let me commence by locating myself. Here, I see the vestibule in which I am sitting. On the street front, the drawing-room, the boudoir and dining-room. Useless to waste any time there, as it appears that the countess has a deplorable taste⁠ ⁠… not a bibelot of any value!⁠ ⁠… Now, let’s get down to business!⁠ ⁠… Ah! here is a corridor; it must lead to the bed chambers. At a distance of three metres, I should come to the door of the wardrobe-closet which connects with the chamber of the countess.” He folded his plan, extinguished his lantern, and proceeded down the corridor, counting his distance, thus:

“One metre⁠ ⁠… two metres⁠ ⁠… three metres.⁠ ⁠… Here is the door.⁠ ⁠… Mon Dieu, how easy it is! Only a small, simple bolt now separates me from the chamber, and I know that the bolt is located exactly one metre, forty-three centimeters, from the floor. So that, thanks to a small incision I am about to make, I can soon get rid of the bolt.”

He drew from his pocket the necessary instruments. Then the following idea occurred to him:

“Suppose, by chance, the door is not bolted. I will try it first.”

He turned the knob, and the door opened.

“My brave Lupin, surely fortune favors you.⁠ ⁠… What’s to be done now? You know the situation of the rooms; you know the place in which the countess hides the black pearl. Therefore, in order to secure the black pearl, you have simply to be more silent than silence, more invisible than darkness itself.”

Arsène Lupin was employed fully a half-hour in opening the second door⁠—a glass door that led to the countess’ bedchamber. But he accomplished it with so much skill and precaution, that even had the countess been awake, she would not have heard the slightest sound. According to the plan of the rooms, that he holds, he has merely to pass around a reclining chair and, beyond