answer establishes the fact that it was Madame de Réal who was the first to mention the ring, and it was she who advised you to buy it.”
“But, I consider my friend is quite incapable—”
“Pardon me, countess, when I remind you that Madame de Réal is only a casual acquaintance and not your intimate friend, as the newspapers have announced. It was only last winter that you met her for the first time. Now, I can prove that everything she has told you about herself, her past life, and her relatives, is absolutely false; that Madame Blanche de Réal had no actual existence before she met you, and she has now ceased to exist.”
“Well?”
“Well?” replied Ganimard.
“Your story is a very strange one,” said the countess, “but it has no application to our case. If Madame de Réal had taken the ring, how do you explain the fact that it was found in Herr Bleichen’s tooth-powder? Anyone who would take the risk and trouble of stealing the blue diamond would certainly keep it. What do you say to that?”
“I—nothing—but Madame de Réal will answer it.”
“Oh! she does exist, then?”
“She does—and does not. I will explain in a few words. Three days ago, while reading a newspaper, I glanced over the list of hotel arrivals at Trouville, and there I read: ’Hôtel Beaurivage—Madame de Réal, etc.’
“I went to Trouville immediately, and interviewed the proprietor of the hotel. From the description and other information I received from him, I concluded that she was the very Madame de Réal that I was seeking; but she had left the hotel, giving her address in Paris as number three rue de Colisée. The day before yesterday I went to that address, and learned that there was no person there called Madame de Réal, but there was a Madame Réal, living on the second floor, who acted as a diamond broker and was frequently away from home. She had returned from a journey on the preceding evening. Yesterday, I called on her and, under an assumed name, I offered to act as an intermedium in the sale of some diamonds to certain wealthy friends of mine. She is to meet me here today to carry out that arrangement.”
“What! You expect her to come here?”
“Yes, at half-past five.”
“Are you sure it is she?”
“Madame de Réal of the Château de Crozon? Certainly. I have convincing evidence of that fact. But…listen!… I hear Folenfant’s signal.”
It was a whistle. Ganimard arose quickly.
“There is no time to lose. Monsieur and Madame de Crozon, will you be kind enough to go into the next room. You also, Monsieur d’Hautrec, and you, Monsieur Gerbois. The door will remain open, and when I give the signal, you will come out. Of course, Chief, you will remain here.”
“We may be disturbed by other people,” said Mon. Dudouis.
“No. This is a new establishment, and the proprietor is one of my friends. He will not let anyone disturb us—except the blonde Lady.”
“The blonde Lady! What do you mean?”
“Yes, the blonde Lady herself, chief; the friend and accomplice of Arsène Lupin, the mysterious blonde Lady against whom I hold convincing evidence; but, in addition to that, I wish to confront her with all the people she has robbed.”
He looked through the window.
“I see her. She is coming in the door now. She can’t escape: Folenfant and Dieuzy are guarding the door.… The blonde Lady is captured at last, Chief!”
A moment later a woman appeared at the door; she was tall and slender, with a very pale complexion and bright golden hair. Ganimard trembled with excitement; he could not move, nor utter a word. She was there, in front of him, at his mercy! What a victory over Arsène Lupin! And what a revenge! And, at the same time, the victory was such an easy one that he asked himself if the blonde Lady would not yet slip through his fingers by one of those miracles that usually terminated the exploits of Arsène Lupin. She remained standing near the door, surprised at the silence, and looked about her without any display of suspicion or fear.
“She will get away! She will disappear!” thought Ganimard.
Then he managed to get between her and the door. She turned to go out.
“No, no!” he said. “Why are you going away?”
“Really, monsieur, I do not understand what this means. Allow me—”
“There is no reason why you should go, madame, and very good reasons why you should remain.”
“But—”
“It is useless, madame. You cannot go.”
Trembling, she sat on a chair, and stammered:
“What is it you want?”
Ganimard had won the battle and captured the blonde Lady. He said to her:
“Allow me to present the friend I mentioned, who desires to purchase some diamonds. Have you procured the stones you promised to bring?”
“No—no—I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
“Come! Jog your memory! A person of your acquaintance intended to send you a tinted stone.… ‘Something like the blue diamond,’ I said, laughing; and you replied: ‘Exactly, I expect to have just what you want.’ Do you remember!”
She made no reply. A small satchel fell from her hand. She picked it up quickly, and held it securely. Her hands trembled slightly.
“Come!” said Ganimard, “I see you have no confidence in us, Madame de Réal. I shall set you a good example by showing you what I have.”
He took from his pocketbook a paper which he unfolded, and disclosed a lock of hair.
“These are a few hairs torn from the head of Antoinette Bréhat by the Baron d’Hautrec, which I found clasped in his dead hand. I have shown them to Mlle. Gerbois, who declares they are of the exact color of the hair of the blonde Lady. Besides, they are exactly the color of your hair—the identical color.”
Madame Réal looked at him in bewilderment, as if she did not understand his meaning. He continued:
“And here are two perfume bottles, without labels, it is true, and empty, but still sufficiently impregnated with their odor to enable Mlle. Gerbois to recognize in them the perfume used by that blonde Lady who was her traveling companion for two weeks. Now, one of these bottles was found in the room that Madame de Réal occupied at the Château de Crozon, and the other in the room that you occupied at the Hôtel Beaurivage.”
“What do you say?… The blonde Lady…the Château de Crozon.…”
The detective did not reply. He took from his pocket and placed on the table, side by side, four small sheets of paper. Then he said:
“I have, on these four pieces of paper, various specimens of handwriting; the first is the writing of Antoinette Bréhat; the second was written by the woman who sent the note to Baron Herschmann at the auction sale of the blue diamond; the third is that of Madame de Réal, written while she was stopping at the Château de Crozon; and the fourth is your handwriting, madame…it is your name and address, which you gave to the porter of the Hôtel Beaurivage at Trouville. Now, compare the four handwritings. They are identical.”
“What absurdity is this! really, monsieur, I do not understand. What does it mean?”
“It means, madame,” exclaimed Ganimard, “that the blonde Lady, the friend and accomplice of Arsène Lupin, is none other than you, Madame Réal.”
Ganimard went to the adjoining room and returned with Mon. Gerbois, whom he placed in front of Madame Réal, as he said:
“Monsieur Gerbois, is this the person who abducted your daughter, the woman you saw at the house of Monsieur Detinan?”