are some letters.”
“Old invoices, I presume!”
“No; a packet tied with a ribbon.”
“A red ribbon? Oh! Ganimard, for God’s sake, don’t untie it!”
“From a woman?”
“Yes.”
“A woman of the world?”
“The best in the world.”
“Her name?”
“Madame Ganimard.”
“Very funny! very funny!” exclaimed the detective.
At that moment the men, who had been sent to search the other rooms, returned and announced their failure to find anything. Lupin laughed and said:
“Parbleu! Did you expect to find my visiting list, or evidence of my business relations with the Emperor of Germany? But I can tell you what you should investigate, Ganimard: All the little mysteries of this apartment. For instance, that gas-pipe is a speaking tube. That chimney contains a stairway. That wall is hollow. And the marvellous system of bells! Ah! Ganimard, just press that button!”
Ganimard obeyed.
“Did you hear anything?” asked Lupin.
“No.”
“Neither did I. And yet you notified my aeronaut to prepare the dirigible balloon which will soon carry us into the clouds.
“Come!” said Ganimard, who had completed his search; “we’ve had enough nonsense—let’s be off.”
He started away, followed by his men. Lupin did not move. His guardians pushed him in vain.
“Well,” said Ganimard, “do you refuse to go?”
“Not at all. But it depends.”
“On what?”
“Where you want to take me.”
“To the station-house, of course.”
“Then I refuse to go. I have no business there.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Did I not tell you that I had an important appointment?”
“Lupin!”
“Why, Ganimard, I have an appointment with the blonde Lady, and do you suppose I would be so discourteous as to cause her a moment’s anxiety? That would be very ungentlemanly.”
“Listen, Lupin,” said the detective, who was becoming annoyed by this persiflage; “I have been very patient with you, but I will endure no more. Follow me.”
“Impossible; I have an appointment and I shall keep it.”
“For the last time—follow me!”
“Im-pos-sible!”
At a sign from Ganimard two men seized Lupin by the arms; but they released him at once, uttering cries of pain. Lupin had thrust two long needles into them. The other men now rushed at Lupin with cries of rage and hatred, eager to avenge their comrades and to avenge themselves for the many affronts he had heaped upon them; and now they struck and beat him to their heart’s desire. A violent blow on the temple felled Lupin to the floor.
“If you hurt him you will answer to me,” growled Ganimard, in a rage.
He leaned over Lupin to ascertain his condition. Then, learning that he was breathing freely, Ganimard ordered his men to carry the prisoner by the head and feet, while he himself supported the body.
“Go gently, now!… Don’t jolt him. Ah! the brutes would have killed him.… Well, Lupin, how goes it!”
“None too well, Ganimard…you let them knock me out.”
“It was your own fault; you were so obstinate,” replied Ganimard. “But I hope they didn’t hurt you.”
They had left the apartment and were now on the landing. Lupin groaned and stammered:
“Ganimard…the elevator…they are breaking my bones.”
“A good idea, an excellent idea,” replied Ganimard. “Besides, the stairway is too narrow.”
He summoned the elevator. They placed Lupin on the seat with the greatest care. Ganimard took his place beside him and said to his men:
“Go down the stairs and wait for me below. Understand?”
Ganimard closed the door of the elevator. Suddenly the elevator shot upward like a balloon released from its cable. Lupin burst into a fit of sardonic laughter.
“Good God!” cried Ganimard, as he made a frantic search in the dark for the button of descent. Having found it, he cried:
“The fifth floor! Watch the door of the fifth floor.”
His assistants clambered up the stairs, two and three steps at a time. But this strange circumstance happened: The elevator seemed to break through the ceiling of the last floor, disappeared from the sight of Ganimard’s assistants, suddenly made its appearance on the upper floor—the servants’ floor—and stopped. Three men were there waiting for it. They opened the door. Two of them seized Ganimard, who, astonished at the sudden attack, scarcely made any defence. The other man carried off Lupin.
“I warned you, Ganimard…about the dirigible balloon. Another time, don’t be so tender-hearted. And, moreover, remember that Arsène Lupin doesn’t allow himself to be struck and knocked down without sufficient reason. Adieu.”
The door of the elevator was already closed on Ganimard, and the machine began to descend; and it all happened so quickly that the old detective reached the ground floor as soon as his assistants. Without exchanging a word they crossed the court and ascended the servants’ stairway, which was the only way to reach the servants’ floor through which the escape had been made.
A long corridor with several turns and bordered with little numbered rooms led to a door that was not locked. On the other side of this door and, therefore, in another house there was another corridor with similar turns and similar rooms, and at the end of it a servants’ stairway. Ganimard descended it, crossed a court and a vestibule and found himself in the rue Picot. Then he understood the situation: the two houses, built the entire depth of the lots, touched at the rear, while the fronts of the houses faced upon two streets that ran parallel to each other at a distance of more than sixty metres apart.
He found the concierge and, showing his card, enquired:
“Did four men pass here just now?”
“Yes; the two servants from the fourth and fifth floors, with two friends.”
“Who lives on the fourth and fifth floors?”
“Two men named Fauvel and their cousins, whose name is Provost. They moved today, leaving the two servants, who went away just now.”
“Ah!” thought Ganimard; “what a grand opportunity we have missed! The entire band lived in these houses.”
And he sank down on a chair in despair.
* * * *
Forty minutes later two gentlemen were driven up to the station of the Northern Railway and hurried to the Calais express, followed by a porter who carried their valises. One of them had his arm in a sling, and the pallor of his face denoted some illness. The other man was in a jovial mood.
“We must hurry, Wilson, or we will miss the train.… Ah! Wilson, I shall never forget these ten days.”
“Neither will I.”
“Ah! it was a great struggle!”
“Superb!”
“A few repulses, here and there—”
“Of no consequence.”