The Essential Maurice Leblanc Collection. Морис ЛебланЧитать онлайн книгу.
is a man, who, by way of preparing for a possible struggle with us, obtains specimens of your handwriting and mine and has one of your cards ready in his pocketbook. Have you thought of the amount of precaution, of perspicacity, of determination, of method, of organization that all this represents?"
"You mean to say ..."
"I mean to say, Wilson, that, to fight an enemy so formidably armed, so wonderfully equipped--and to beat him--takes ... a man like myself. And, even then, Wilson," he added, laughing, "one does not succeed at the first attempt, as you see!"
* * * * *
At six o'clock, the _cho de France_ published the following paragraph in its special edition:
"This morning, M. Thnard, the commissary of police of the 16th division, released Messrs. Holmlock Shears and Wilson, who had been confined, by order of Arsne Lupin, in the late Baron d'Hautrec's house, where they spent an excellent night.
"They were also relieved of their luggage and have laid an information against Arsne Lupin.
"Arsne Lupin has been satisfied with giving them a little lesson this time; but he earnestly begs them not to compel him to adopt more serious measures."
"Pooh!" said Holmlock Shears, crumpling up the paper. "Schoolboy tricks! That's the only fault I have to find with Lupin ... he's too childish, too fond of playing to the gallery.... He's a street arab at heart!"
"So you continue to take it calmly, Shears?"
"Quite calmly," replied Shears, in a voice shaking with rage. "What's the use of being angry? _I am so certain of having the last word!_"
CHAPTER IV
A GLIMMER IN THE DARKNESS
However impervious to outside influences a man's character may be--and Shears is one of those men upon whom ill-luck takes hardly any hold--there are yet circumstances in which the most undaunted feel the need to collect their forces before again facing the chances of a battle.
"I shall take a holiday to-day," said Shears.
"And I?"
"You, Wilson, must go and buy clothes and shirts and things to replenish our wardrobe. During that time, I shall rest."
"Yes, rest, Shears. I shall watch."
Wilson uttered those three words with all the importance of a sentry placed on outpost duty and therefore exposed to the worst dangers. He threw out his chest and stiffened his muscles. With a sharp eye, he glanced round the little hotel bedroom where they had taken up their quarters.
"That's right, Wilson: watch. I shall employ the interval in preparing a plan of campaign better suited to the adversary whom we have to deal with. You see, Wilson, we were wrong about Lupin. We must start again from the beginning."
"Even earlier, if we can. But have we time?"
"Nine days, old chap: five days more than we want."
* * * * *
The Englishman spent the whole afternoon smoking and dozing. He did not begin operations until the following morning:
"I'm ready now, Wilson. We can go ahead."
"Let's go ahead," cried Wilson, full of martial ardour. "My legs are twitching to start."
Shears had three long interviews: first, with Matre Detinan, whose flat he inspected through and through; next, with Suzanne Gerbois, to whom he telegraphed to come and whom he questioned about the blonde lady; lastly with Soeur Auguste, who had returned to the Visitation Convent after the murder of Baron d'Hautrec.
At each visit, Wilson waited outside and, after each visit, asked:
"Satisfied?"
"Quite."
"I was sure of it. We're on the right track now. Let's go ahead."
They did a great deal of going. They called at the two mansions on either side of the house in the Avenue Henri-Martin. From there they went on to the Rue Clapeyron and, while he was examining the front of No. 25, Shears continued:
"It is quite obvious that there are secret passages between all these houses.... But what I cannot make out...."
For the first time and in his inmost heart, Wilson doubted the omnipotence of his talented chief. Why was he talking so much and doing so little?
"Why?" cried Shears, replying to Wilson's unspoken thoughts. "Because, with that confounded Lupin, one has nothing to go upon; one works at random. Instead of deriving the truth from exact facts, one has to get at it by intuition and verify it afterward to see if it fits in."
"But the secret passages...?"
"What then? Even if I knew them, if I knew the one which admitted Lupin to his lawyer's study or the one taken by the blonde lady after the murder of Baron d'Hautrec, how much further should I be? Would that give me a weapon to go for him with?"
"Let's go for him, in any case," said Wilson.
He had not finished speaking, when he jumped back with a cry. Something had fallen at their feet: a bag half-filled with sand, which might have hurt them seriously.
Shears looked up: some men were working in a cradle hooked on to the balcony of the fifth floor.
"Upon my word," he said, "we've had a lucky escape! The clumsy beggars! Another yard and we should have caught that bag on our heads. One would really think...."
He stopped, darted into the house, rushed up the staircase, rang the bell on the fifth landing, burst into the flat, to the great alarm of the footman who opened the door, and went out on the balcony. There was no one there.
"Where are the workmen who were here a moment ago?" he asked the footman.
"They have just gone."
"Which way?"
"Why, down the servants' staircase."
Shears leant over. He saw two men leaving the house, leading their bicycles. They mounted and rode away.
"Have they been working on this cradle long?"
"No, only since this morning. They were new men."
Shears joined Wilson down below.
They went home in a depressed mood; and this second day ended in silent gloom.
* * * * *
They followed a similar programme on the following day. They sat down on a bench in the Avenue Henri-Martin. Wilson, who was thoroughly bored by this interminable wait opposite the three houses, felt driven to desperation:
"What do you expect, Shears? To see Lupin come out?"
"No."
"Or the blonde lady?"
"No."
"What, then?"
"I expect some little thing to happen, some little tiny thing which I can use as a starting-point."
"And, if nothing happens?"
"In that case, something will happen inside myself: a spark that will set us going."
The only incident that broke the monotony of the morning was a rather disagreeable one. A gentleman was coming down the riding-path that separates the two roadways of the avenue, when his horse swerved, struck the bench on which they were sitting and backed against Shears's shoulder.
"Tut, tut!" snarled Shears. "A shade more and I should have had my