Arsene Lupin. Морис Леблан

shook his head, and said:

      "Look at that, Sholmes, and we thought we were traveling incognito! I shouldn't be surprised to find the republican guard waiting for us at the rue Murillo to give us an official reception with toasts and champagne."

      "Wilson, when you get funny, you get beastly funny," growled Sholmes.

      Then he approached one of the sandwich-men with the obvious intention of seizing him in his powerful grip and crushing him, together with his infernal sign-board. There was quite a crowd gathered about the men, reading the notices, and joking and laughing.

      Repressing a furious access of rage, Sholmes said to the man:

      "When did they hire you?"

      "This morning."

      "How long have you been parading?"

      "About an hour."

      "But the boards were ready before that?"

      "Oh, yes, they were ready when we went to the agency this morning."

      So then it appears that Arsène Lupin had foreseen that he, Sholmes, would accept the challenge. More than that, the letter written by Lupin showed that he was eager for the fray and that he was prepared to measure swords once more with his formidable rival. Why? What motive could Arsène Lupin have in renewing the struggle?

      Sholmes hesitated for a moment. Lupin must be very confident of his success to show so much insolence in advance; and was not he, Sholmes, falling into a trap by rushing into the battle at the first call for help?

      However, he called a carriage.

      "Come, Wilson!... Driver, 18 rue Murillo!" he exclaimed, with an outburst of his accustomed energy. With distended veins and clenched fists, as if he were about to engage in a boxing bout, he jumped into the carriage.

      The rue Murillo is bordered with magnificent private residences, the rear of which overlook the Parc Monceau. One of the most pretentious of these houses is number 18, owned and occupied by the Baron d'Imblevalle and furnished in a luxurious manner consistent with the owner's taste and wealth. There was a courtyard in front of the house, and, in the rear, a garden well filled with trees whose branches mingle with those of the park.

      After ringing the bell, the two Englishmen were admitted, crossed the courtyard, and were received at the door by a footman who showed them into a small parlor facing the garden in the rear of the house. They sat down and, glancing about, made a rapid inspection of the many valuable objects with which the room was filled.

      "Everything very choice," murmured Wilson, "and in the best of taste. It is a safe deduction to make that those who had the leisure to collect these articles must now be at least fifty years of age."

      The door opened, and the Baron d'Imblevalle entered, followed by his wife. Contrary to the deduction made by Wilson, they were both quite young, of elegant appearance, and vivacious in speech and action. They were profuse in their expressions of gratitude.

      "So kind of you to come! Sorry to have caused you so much trouble! The theft now seems of little consequence, since it has procured us this pleasure."

      "How charming these French people are!" thought Wilson, evolving one of his commonplace deductions.

      "But time is money," exclaimed the baron, "especially your time, Monsieur Sholmes. So I will come to the point. Now, what do you think of the affair? Do you think you can succeed in it?"

      "Before I can answer that I must know what it is about."

      "I thought you knew."

      "No; so I must ask you for full particulars, even to the smallest detail. First, what is the nature of the case?"

      "A theft."

      "When did it take place?"

      "Last Saturday," replied the baron, "or, at least, some time during Saturday night or Sunday morning."

      "That was six days ago. Now, you can tell me all about it."

      "In the first place, monsieur, I must tell you that my wife and I, conforming to the manner of life that our position demands, go out very little. The education of our children, a few receptions, and the care and decoration of our house—such constitutes our life; and nearly all our evenings are spent in this little room, which is my wife's boudoir, and in which we have gathered a few artistic objects. Last Saturday night, about eleven o'clock, I turned off the electric lights, and my wife and I retired, as usual, to our room."

      "Where is your room?"

      "It adjoins this. That is the door. Next morning, that is to say, Sunday morning, I arose quite early. As Suzanne, my wife, was still asleep, I passed into the boudoir as quietly as possible so as not to wake her. What was my astonishment when I found that window open—as we had left it closed the evening before!"

      "A servant——"

      "No one enters here in the morning until we ring. Besides, I always take the precaution to bolt the second door which communicates with the ante-chamber. Therefore, the window must have been opened from the outside. Besides, I have some evidence of that: the second pane of glass from the right—close to the fastening—had been cut."

      "And what does that window overlook?"

      "As you can see for yourself, it opens on a little balcony, surrounded by a stone railing. Here, we are on the first floor, and you can see the garden behind the house and the iron fence which separates it from the Parc Monceau. It is quite certain that the thief came through the park, climbed the fence by the aid of a ladder, and thus reached the terrace below the window."

      "That is quite certain, you say!"

      "Well, in the soft earth on either side of the fence, they found the two holes made by the bottom of the ladder, and two similar holes can be seen below the window. And the stone railing of the balcony shows two scratches which were doubtless made by the contact of the ladder."

      "Is the Parc Monceau closed at night?"

      "No; but if it were, there is a house in course of erection at number 14, and a person could enter that way."

      Herlock Sholmes reflected for a few minutes, and then said:

      "Let us come down to the theft. It must have been committed in this room?"

      "Yes; there was here, between that twelfth century Virgin and that tabernacle of chased silver, a small Jewish lamp. It has disappeared."

      "And is that all?"

      "That is all."

      "Ah!... And what is a Jewish lamp?"

      "One of those copper lamps used by the ancient Jews, consisting of a standard which supported a bowl containing the oil, and from this bowl projected several burners intended for the wicks."

      "Upon the whole, an object of small value."

      "No great value, of course. But this one contained a secret hiding-place in which we were accustomed to place a magnificent jewel, a chimera in gold, set with rubies and emeralds, which was of great value."

      "Why did you hide it there?"

      "Oh! I can't give any reason, monsieur, unless it was an odd fancy to utilize a hiding-place of that kind."

      "Did anyone know it?"

      "No."

      "No one—except the thief," said Sholmes. "Otherwise he would not have taken the trouble to steal the lamp."

      "Of course. But how could he know it, as it was only by accident that the secret mechanism of the lamp was revealed to us."

      "A similar accident has revealed it to some one else ... a servant ... or an acquaintance. But let us proceed: I suppose the police have been notified?"

      "Yes. The examining magistrate has completed his investigation. The reporter-detectives attached to the leading