attempt. The diamond escapes you, and the sale is widely advertised to take place at the Drouot auction-rooms. Will it be a free and open sale? Is the richest amateur sure to carry off the jewel! No. Just as the banker Herschmann is on the point of buying the ring, a lady sends him a letter of warning, and it is the Countess de Crozon, prepared and influenced by the same lady, who becomes the purchaser of the diamond. Will the ring disappear at once? No; you lack the opportunity. Therefore, you must wait. At last the Countess goes to her château. That is what you were waiting for. The ring disappears.”
“To reappear again in the tooth-powder of Herr Bleichen,” remarked Lupin.
“Oh! such nonsense!” exclaimed Holmes, striking the table with his fist, “don’t tell me such a fairy tale. I am too old a fox to be led away by a false scent.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” said Holmes, then paused a moment as if he wished to arrange his effect. At last he said:
“The blue diamond that was found in the tooth-powder was false. You kept the genuine stone.”
Arsène Lupin remained silent for a moment; then, with his eyes fixed on the Englishman, he replied, calmly:
“You are impertinent, monsieur.”
“Impertinent, indeed!” repeated Wilson, beaming with admiration.
“Yes,” said Lupin, “and, yet, to do you credit, you have thrown a strong light on a very mysterious subject. Not a magistrate, not a special reporter, who has been engaged on this case, has come so near the truth. It is a marvellous display of intuition and logic.”
“Oh! a person has simply to use his brains,” said Sherlock Holmes, nattered at the homage of the expert criminal.
“And so few have any brains to use,” replied Lupin. “And, now, that the field of conjectures has been narrowed down, and the rubbish cleared away—”
“Well, now, I have simply to discover why the three episodes were enacted at 25 rue Clapeyron, 134 avenue Henri-Martin, and within the walls of the Château de Crozon and my work will be finished. What remains will be child’s play. Don’t you think so?”
“Yes, I think you are right.”
“In that case, Monsieur Lupin, am I wrong in saying that my business will be finished in ten days?”
“In ten days you will know the whole truth,” said Lupin.
“And you will be arrested.”
“No.”
“No?”
“In order that I may be arrested there must occur such a series of improbable and unexpected misfortunes that I cannot admit the possibility of such an event.”
“We have a saying in England that ‘the unexpected always happens.’”
They looked at each other for a moment calmly and fearlessly, without any display of bravado or malice. They met as equals in a contest of wit and skill. And this meeting was the formal crossing of swords, preliminary to the duel.
“Ah!” exclaimed Lupin, “at last I shall have an adversary worthy of the name—one whose defeat will be the proudest achievement in my career.”
“Are you not afraid!” asked Wilson.
“Almost, Monsieur Wilson,” replied Lupin, rising from his chair, “and the proof is that I am about to make a hasty retreat. Then, we will say ten days, Monsieur Holmes?”
“Yes, ten days. This is Sunday. A week from next Wednesday, at eight o’clock in the evening, it will be all over.”
“And I shall be in prison?”
“No doubt of it.”
“Ha! not a pleasant outlook for a man who gets so much enjoyment out of life as I do. No cares, a lively interest in the affairs of the world, a justifiable contempt for the police, and the consoling sympathy of numerous friends and admirers. And now, behold, all that is about to be changed! It is the reverse side of the medal. After sunshine comes the rain. It is no longer a laughing matter. Adieu!”
“Hurry up!” said Wilson, full of solicitude for a person in whom Sherlock Holmes had inspired so much respect, “do not lose a minute.”
“Not a minute, Monsieur Wilson; but I wish to express my pleasure at having met you, and to tell you how much I envy the master in having such a valuable assistant as you seem to be.”
Then, after they had courteously saluted each other, like adversaries in a duel who entertain no feeling of malice but are obliged to fight by force of circumstances, Lupin seized me by the arm and drew me outside.
“What do you think of it, dear boy? The strange events of this evening will form an interesting chapter in the memoirs you are now preparing for me.”
He closed the door of the restaurant behind us, and, after taking a few steps, he stopped and said:
“Do you smoke?”
“No. Nor do you, it seems to me.”
“You are right, I don’t.”
He lighted a cigarette with a wax-match, which he shook several times in an effort to extinguish it. But he threw away the cigarette immediately, ran across the street, and joined two men who emerged from the shadows as if called by a signal. He conversed with them for a few minutes on the opposite sidewalk, and then returned to me.
“I beg your pardon, but I fear that cursed Holmes is going to give me trouble. But, I assure you, he is not yet through with Arsène Lupin. He will find out what kind of fuel I use to warm my blood. And now—au revoir! The genial Wilson is right; there is not a moment to lose.”
He walked away rapidly.
Thus ended the events of that exciting evening, or, at least, that part of them in which I was a participant. Subsequently, during the course of the evening, other stirring incidents occurred which have come to my knowledge through the courtesy of other members of that unique dinner-party.
* * * *
At the very moment in which Lupin left me, Sherlock Holmes rose from the table, and looked at his watch.
“Twenty minutes to nine. At nine o’clock I am to meet the Count and Countess at the railway station.”
“Then, we must be off!” exclaimed Wilson, between two drinks of whisky.
They left the restaurant.
“Wilson, don’t look behind. We may be followed, and, in that case, let us act as if we did not care. Wilson, I want your opinion: why was Lupin in that restaurant?”
“To get something to eat,” replied Wilson, quickly.
“Wilson, I must congratulate you on the accuracy of your deduction. I couldn’t have done better myself.”
Wilson blushed with pleasure, and Holmes continued:
“To get something to eat. Very well, and, after that, probably, to assure himself whether I am going to the Château de Crozon, as announced by Ganimard in his interview. I must go in order not to disappoint him. But, in order to gain time on him, I shall not go.”
“Ah!” said Wilson, nonplused.
“You, my friend, will walk down this street, take a carriage, two, three carriages. Return later and get the valises that we left at the station, and make for the Elysée-Palace at a galop.”
“And when I reach the Elysée-Palace?”
“Engage a room, go to sleep, and await my orders.”
Quite proud of the important rôle assigned to him, Wilson set out to perform his task. Sherlock Holmes proceeded to the railway station, bought a ticket, and repaired to the Amiens’ express in which the Count and Countess de Crozon were already