Arsene Lupin. Морис Леблан

go on talking, do!" cried Guerchard, mopping his forehead.

      "Absolutely pitiable," said the Duke, with a cold, disquieting certainty. "As the hand of that clock moves nearer and nearer midnight, you will grow more and more terrified." He paused, and then shouted violently, "Attention!"

      Guerchard jumped; and then he swore.

      "Your nerves are on edge," said the Duke, laughing.

      "Joker!" snarled Guerchard.

      "Oh, you're as brave as the next man. But who can stand the anguish of the unknown thing which is bound to happen? … I'm right. You feel it, you're sure of it. At the end of these few fixed minutes an inevitable, fated event must happen. Don't shrug your shoulders, man; you're green with fear."

      The Duke was no longer a smiling, cynical dandy. There emanated from him an impression of vivid, terrible force. His voice had deepened. It thrilled with a consciousness of irresistible power; it was overwhelming, paralyzing. His eyes were terrible.

      "My men are outside … I'm armed," stammered Guerchard.

      "Child! Bear in mind … bear in mind that it is always when you have foreseen everything, arranged everything, made every combination … bear in mind that it is always then that some accident dashes your whole structure to the ground," said the Duke, in the same deep, thrilling voice." Remember that it is always at the very moment at which you are going to triumph that he beats you, that he only lets you reach the top of the ladder to throw you more easily to the ground."

      "Confess, then, that you are Lupin," muttered Guerchard.

      "I thought you were sure of it," said the Duke in a jeering tone.

      Guerchard dragged the handcuffs out of his pocket, and said between his teeth, "I don't know what prevents me, my boy."

      The Duke drew himself up, and said haughtily, "That's enough."

      "What?" cried Guerchard.

      "I say that that's enough," said the Duke sternly. "It's all very well for me to play at being familiar with you, but don't you call me 'my boy.'"

      "Oh, you won't impose on me much longer," muttered Guerchard; and his bloodshot, haggard eyes scanned the Duke's face in an agony, an anguish of doubting impotence.

      "If I'm Lupin, arrest me," said the Duke.

      "I'll arrest you in three minutes from now, or the coronet will be untouched," cried Guerchard in a firmer tone.

      "In three minutes from now the coronet will have been stolen; and you will not arrest me," said the Duke, in a tone of chilling certainty.

      "But I will! I swear I will!" cried Guerchard.

      "Don't swear any foolish oaths! … THERE ARE ONLY TWO MINUTES LEFT," said the Duke; and he drew a revolver from his pocket.

      "No, you don't!" cried Guerchard, drawing a revolver in his turn.

      "What's the matter?" said the Duke, with an air of surprise. "You haven't forbidden me to shoot Lupin. I have my revolver ready, since he's going to come… . THERE'S ONLY A MINUTE LEFT."

      "There are plenty of us," said Guerchard; and he went towards the door.

      "Funk!" said the Duke scornfully.

      Guerchard turned sharply. "Very well," he said, "I'll stick it out alone."

      "How rash!" sneered the Duke.

      Guerchard ground his teeth. He was panting; his bloodshot eyes rolled in their sockets; the beads of cold sweat stood out on his forehead. He came back towards the table on unsteady feet, trembling from head to foot in the last excitation of the nerves. He kept jerking his head to shake away the mist which kept dimming his eyes.

      "At your slightest gesture, at your slightest movement, I'll fire," he said jerkily, and covered the Duke with his revolver.

      "I call myself the Duke of Charmerace. You will be arrested to- morrow!" said the Duke, in a compelling, thrilling voice.

      "I don't care a curse!" cried Guerchard.

      "Only FIFTY SECONDS!" said the Duke.

      "Yes, yes," muttered Guerchard huskily. And his eyes shot from the coronet to the Duke, from the Duke to the coronet.

      "In fifty seconds the coronet will be stolen," said the Duke.

      "No!" cried Guerchard furiously.

      "Yes," said the Duke coldly.

      "No! no! no!" cried Guerchard.

      Their eyes turned to the clock.

      To Guerchard the hands seemed to be standing still. He could have sworn at them for their slowness.

      Then the first stroke rang out; and the eyes of the two men met like crossing blades. Twice the Duke made the slightest movement. Twice Guerchard started forward to meet it.

      At the last stroke both their hands shot out. Guerchard's fell heavily on the case which held the coronet. The Duke's fell on the brim of his hat; and he picked it up.

      Guerchard gasped and choked. Then he cried triumphantly:

      "I HAVE it; now then, have I won? Have I been fooled this time? Has Lupin got the coronet?"

      "It doesn't look like it. But are you quite sure?" said the Duke gaily.

      "Sure?" cried Guerchard.

      "It's only the weight of it," said the Duke, repressing a laugh. "Doesn't it strike you that it's just a trifle light?"

      "What?" cried Guerchard.

      "This is merely an imitation." said the Duke, with a gentle laugh.

      "Hell and damnation!" howled Guerchard. "Bonavent! Dieusy!"

      The door flew open, and half a dozen detectives rushed in.

      Guerchard sank into a chair, stupefied, paralyzed; this blow, on the top of the strain of the struggle with the Duke, had broken him.

      "Gentlemen," said the Duke sadly, "the coronet has been stolen."

      They broke into cries of surprise and bewilderment, surrounding the gasping Guerchard with excited questions.

      The Duke walked quietly out of the room.

      Guerchard sobbed twice; his eyes opened, and in a dazed fashion wandered from face to face; he said faintly: "Where is he?"

      "Where's who?" said Bonavent.

      "The Duke—the Duke!" gasped Guerchard.

      "Why, he's gone!" said Bonavent.

      Guerchard staggered to his feet and cried hoarsely, frantically: "Stop him from leaving the house! Follow him! Arrest him! Catch him before he gets home!"

      Chapter 20 LUPIN COMES HOME

      The cold light of the early September morning illumined but dimly the charming smoking-room of the Duke of Charmerace in his house at 34 B, University Street, though it stole in through two large windows. The smoking-room was on the first floor; and the Duke's bedroom opened into it. It was furnished in the most luxurious fashion, but with a taste which nowadays infrequently accompanies luxury. The chairs were of the most comfortable, but their lines were excellent; the couch against the wall, between the two windows, was the last word in the matter of comfort. The colour scheme, of a light greyish-blue, was almost too bright for a man's room; it would have better suited a boudoir. It suggested that the owner of the room enjoyed an uncommon lightness and cheerfulness of temperament. On the walls, with wide gaps between them so that they did not clash, hung three or four excellent pictures. Two ballet-girls by Degas, a group of shepherdesses and shepherds, in pink and blue and white beribboned silk, by Fragonard, a portrait of a woman by Bastien-Lepage, a charming Corot, and two Conder fans showed that the taste of their fortunate owner was at any rate eclectic. At the end of the room was, of all curious things, the opening into