Arsene Lupin. Морис Леблан

clean, and presented a cheerful appearance with its varnished woodwork and polished brass. Lupin closed the door and addressed Sholmes abruptly, and almost rudely, as he said:

      "Well, what do you know?"

      "Everything."

      "Everything? Come, be precise."

      His voice contained no longer that polite, if ironical, tone, which he had affected when speaking to the Englishman. Now, his voice had the imperious tone of a master accustomed to command and accustomed to be obeyed—even by a Herlock Sholmes. They measured each other by their looks, enemies now—open and implacable foes. Lupin spoke again, but in a milder tone:

      "I have grown weary of your pursuit, and do not intend to waste any more time in avoiding the traps you lay for me. I warn you that my treatment of you will depend on your reply. Now, what do you know?"

      "Everything, monsieur."

      Arsène Lupin controlled his temper and said, in a jerky manner:

      "I will tell you what you know. You know that, under the name of Maxime Bermond, I have ... improved fifteen houses that were originally constructed by Monsieur Destange."

      "Yes."

      "Of those fifteen houses, you have seen four."

      "Yes."

      "And you have a list of the other eleven."

      "Yes."

      "You made that list at Monsieur Destange's house on that night, no doubt."

      "Yes."

      "And you have an idea that, amongst those eleven houses, there is one that I have kept for the use of myself and my friends, and you have intrusted to Ganimard the task of finding my retreat."

      "No."

      "What does that signify?"

      "It signifies that I choose to act alone, and do not want his help."

      "Then I have nothing to fear, since you are in my hands."

      "You have nothing to fear as long as I remain in your hands."

      "You mean that you will not remain?"

      "Yes."

      Arsène Lupin approached the Englishman and, placing his hand on the latter's shoulder, said:

      "Listen, monsieur; I am not in a humor to argue with you, and, unfortunately for you, you are not in a position to choose. So let us finish our business."

      "Very well."

      "You are going to give me your word of honor that you will not try to escape from this boat until you arrive in English waters."

      "I give you my word of honor that I shall escape if I have an opportunity," replied the indomitable Sholmes.

      "But, sapristi! you know quite well that at a word from me you would soon be rendered helpless. All these men will obey me blindly. At a sign from me they would place you in irons——"

      "Irons can be broken."

      "And throw you overboard ten miles from shore."

      "I can swim."

      "I hadn't thought of that," said Lupin, with a laugh. "Excuse me, master ... and let us finish. You will agree that I must take the measures necessary to protect myself and my friends."

      "Certainly; but they will be useless."

      "And yet you do not wish me to take them."

      "It is your duty."

      "Very well, then."

      Lupin opened the door and called the captain and two sailors. The latter seized the Englishman, bound him hand and foot, and tied him to the captain's bunk.

      "That will do," said Lupin. "It was only on account of your obstinacy and the unusual gravity of the situation, that I ventured to offer you this indignity."

      The sailors retired. Lupin said to the captain:

      "Let one of the crew remain here to look after Monsieur Sholmes, and you can give him as much of your own company as possible. Treat him with all due respect and consideration. He is not a prisoner, but a guest. What time have you, captain?"

      "Five minutes after two."

      Lupin consulted his watch, then looked at the clock that was attached to the wall of the cabin.

      "Five minutes past two is right. How long will it take you to reach Southampton?"

      "Nine hours, easy going."

      "Make it eleven. You must not land there until after the departure of the midnight boat, which reaches Havre at eight o'clock in the morning. Do you understand, captain? Let me repeat: As it would be very dangerous for all of us to permit Monsieur to return to France by that boat, you must not reach Southampton before one o'clock in the morning."

      "I understand."

      "Au revoir, master; next year, in this world or in the next."

      "Until to-morrow," replied Sholmes.

      A few minutes later Sholmes heard the automobile going away, and at the same time the steam puffed violently in the depths of The Swallow. The boat had started for England. About three o'clock the vessel left the mouth of the river and plunged into the open sea. At that moment Sholmes was lying on the captain's bunk, sound asleep.

      Next morning—it being the tenth and last day of the duel between Sholmes and Lupin—the Echo de France published this interesting bit of news:

      "Yesterday a judgment of ejectment was entered in the case of Arsène Lupin against Herlock Sholmes, the English detective. Although signed at noon, the judgment was executed the same day. At one o'clock this morning Sholmes was landed at Southampton."

      CHAPTER VI.

      SECOND ARREST OF ARSÈNE LUPIN.

      Since eight o'clock a dozen moving-vans had encumbered the rue Crevaux between the avenue du Bois-de-Boulogne and the avenue Bugeaud. Mon. Felix Davey was leaving the apartment in which he lived on the fourth floor of No. 8; and Mon. Dubreuil, who had united into a single apartment the fifth floor of the same house and the fifth floor of the two adjoining houses, was moving on the same day—a mere coincidence, since the gentlemen were unknown to each other—the vast collection of furniture regarding which so many foreign agents visited him every day.

      A circumstance which had been noticed by some of the neighbors, but was not spoken of until later, was this: None of the twelve vans bore the name and address of the owner, and none of the men accompanying them visited the neighboring wine shops. They worked so diligently that the furniture was all out by eleven o'clock. Nothing remained but those scraps of papers and rags that are always left behind in the corners of the empty rooms.

      Mon. Felix Davey, an elegant young man, dressed in the latest fashion, carried in his hand a walking-stick, the weight of which indicated that its owner possessed extraordinary biceps—Mon. Felix Davey walked calmly away and took a seat on a bench in the avenue du Bois-de-Boulogne facing the rue Pergolese. Close to him a woman, dressed in a neat but inexpensive costume, was reading a newspaper, whilst a child was playing with a shovel in a heap of sand.

      After a few minutes Felix Davey spoke to the woman, without turning his head:

      "Ganimard!"

      "Went out at nine o'clock this morning."

      "Where?"

      "To police headquarters."

      "Alone?"

      "Yes."

      "No telegram during the night?"

      "No."

      "Do