closed. Hundred thousand balls delivered. All well."
"One hundred thousand balls?" said Ganimard.
"Yes, one hundred thousand francs. Very little, but then, you know, these are hard times....And I have some heavy bills to meet. If you only knew my budget.... living in the city comes very high."
Ganimard arose. His ill humor had disappeared. He reflected for a moment, glancing over the whole affair in an effort to discover a weak point; then, in a tone and manner that betrayed his admiration of the prisoner, he said:
"Fortunately, we do not have a dozen such as you to deal with; if we did, we would have to close up shop."
Arsène Lupin assumed a modest air, as he replied:
"Bah! a person must have some diversion to occupy his leisure hours, especially when he is in prison."
"What!" exclaimed Ganimard, "your trial, your defense, the examination—isn't that sufficient to occupy your mind?"
"No, because I have decided not to be present at my trial."
"Oh! oh!"
Arsène Lupin repeated, positively:
"I shall not be present at my trial."
"Really!"
"Ah! my dear monsieur, do you suppose I am going to rot upon the wet straw? You insult me. Arsène Lupin remains in prison just as long as it pleases him, and not one minute more."
"Perhaps it would have been more prudent if you had avoided getting there," said the detective, ironically.
"Ah! monsieur jests? Monsieur must remember that he had the honor to effect my arrest. Know then, my worthy friend, that no one, not even you, could have placed a hand upon me if a much more important event had not occupied my attention at that critical moment."
"You astonish me."
"A woman was looking at me, Ganimard, and I loved her. Do you fully understand what that means: to be under the eyes of a woman that one loves? I cared for nothing in the world but that. And that is why I am here."
"Permit me to say: you have been here a long time."
"In the first place, I wished to forget. Do not laugh; it was a delightful adventure and it is still a tender memory. Besides, I have been suffering from neurasthenia. Life is so feverish these days that it is necessary to take the `rest cure' occasionally, and I find this spot a sovereign remedy for my tired nerves."
"Arsène Lupin, you are not a bad fellow, after all."
"Thank you," said Lupin. "Ganimard, this is Friday. On Wednesday next, at four o'clock in the afternoon, I will smoke my cigar at your house in the rue Pergolese."
"Arsène Lupin, I will expect you."
They shook hands like two old friends who valued each other at their true worth; then the detective stepped to the door.
"Ganimard!"
"What is it?" asked Ganimard, as he turned back.
"You have forgotten your watch."
"My watch?"
"Yes, it strayed into my pocket."
He returned the watch, excusing himself.
"Pardon me.... a bad habit. Because they have taken mine is no reason why I should take yours. Besides, I have a chronometer here that satisfies me fairly well."
He took from the drawer a large gold watch and heavy chain.
"From whose pocket did that come?" asked Ganimard.
Arsène Lupin gave a hasty glance at the initials engraved on the watch.
"J.B.....Who the devil can that be?....Ah! yes, I remember. Jules Bouvier, the judge who conducted my examination. A charming fellow!...."
III. The Escape of Arsène Lupin
Arsène Lupin had just finished his repast and taken from his pocket an excellent cigar, with a gold band, which he was examining with unusual care, when the door of his cell was opened. He had barely time to throw the cigar into the drawer and move away from the table. The guard entered. It was the hour for exercise.
"I was waiting for you, my dear boy," exclaimed Lupin, in his accustomed good humor.
They went out together. As soon as they had disappeared at a turn in the corridor, two men entered the cell and commenced a minute examination of it. One was Inspector Dieuzy; the other was Inspector Folenfant. They wished to verify their suspicion that Arsène Lupin was in communication with his accomplices outside of the prison. On the preceding evening, the `Grand Journal' had published these lines addressed to its court reporter:
"Monsieur:
"In a recent article you referred to me in most unjustifiable terms. Some days before the opening of my trial I will call you to account. Arsène Lupin."
The handwriting was certainly that of Arsène Lupin. Consequently, he sent letters; and, no doubt, received letters. It was certain that he was preparing for that escape thus arrogantly announced by him.
The situation had become intolerable. Acting in conjunction with the examining judge, the chief of the Sûreté, Mon. Dudouis, had visited the prison and instructed the gaoler in regard to the precautions necessary to insure Lupin's safety. At the same time, he sent the two men to examine the prisoner's cell. They raised every stone, ransacked the bed, did everything customary in such a case, but they discovered nothing, and were about to abandon their investigation when the guard entered hastily and said:
"The drawer.... look in the table-drawer. When I entered just now he was closing it."
They opened the drawer, and Dieuzy exclaimed:
"Ah! we have him this time."
Folenfant stopped him.
"Wait a moment. The chief will want to make an inventory."
"This is a very choice cigar."
"Leave it there, and notify the chief."
Two minutes later Mon. Dudouis examined the contents of the drawer. First he discovered a bundle of newspaper clippings relating to Arsène Lupin taken from the `Argus de la Presse,' then a tobacco-box, a pipe, some paper called "onion-peel," and two books. He read the titles of the books. One was an English edition of Carlyle's "Hero-worship"; the other was a charming elzevir, in modern binding, the "Manual of Epictetus," a German translation published at Leyden in 1634. On examining the books, he found that all the pages were underlined and annotated. Were they prepared as a code for correspondence, or did they simply express the studious character of the reader? Then he examined the tobacco-box and the pipe. Finally, he took up the famous cigar with its gold band.
"Fichtre!" he exclaimed. "Our friend smokes a good cigar. It's a Henry Clay."
With the mechanical action of an habitual smoker, he placed the cigar close to his ear and squeezed it to make it crack. Immediately he uttered a cry of surprise. The cigar had yielded under the pressure of his fingers. He examined it more closely, and quickly discovered something white between the leaves of tobacco. Delicately, with the aid of a pin, he withdrew a roll of very thin paper, scarcely larger than a toothpick. It was a letter. He unrolled it, and found these words, written in a feminine handwriting:
"The basket has taken the place of the others. Eight out of ten are ready. On pressing the outer foot the plate goes downward. From twelve to sixteen every day, H-P will wait. But where? Reply at once. Rest easy; your friend is watching over you."
Mon. Dudouis reflected a moment, then said:
"It is quite clear.... the basket.... the eight