The Essential Maurice Leblanc Collection. Морис ЛебланЧитать онлайн книгу.
blow, more violent than the rest, struck him on the temple. He fell to the floor.
"If you hurt him," growled Ganimard, angrily, "you'll have me to deal with."
He bent over Lupin, prepared to assist him. But, finding that he was breathing freely, he told the men to take Lupin by the head and feet, while he himself supported his hips.
"Slowly, now, gently!... Don't jolt him!... Why, you brutes, you might have killed him. Well, Lupin, how do you feel?"
Lupin opened his eyes and stammered:
"Not up to much, Ganimard.... You shouldn't have let them knock me about."
"Dash it, it's your own fault ... with your obstinacy!" replied Ganimard, in real distress. "But you're not hurt?"
They reached the landing. Lupin moaned:
"Ganimard ... the lift ... they'll break my bones."
"Good idea, capital idea!" agreed the inspector. "Besides, the stairs are so narrow ... it would be impossible...."
He got the lift up. They laid Lupin on the seat with every imaginable precaution. Ganimard sat down beside him and said to his men:
"Go down the stairs at once. Wait for me by the porter's lodge. Do you understand?"
He shut the door. But it was hardly closed when shouts arose. The lift had shot up, like a balloon with its rope cut. A sardonic laugh rang out.
"Damnation!" roared Ganimard, feeling frantically in the dark for the lever. And failing to find it, he shouted, "The fifth floor! Watch the door on the fifth floor!"
The detectives rushed upstairs, four steps at a time. But a strange thing happened: the lift seemed to shoot right through the ceiling of the top floor, disappeared before the detectives' eyes and suddenly emerged on the upper story, where the servants' bedrooms were, and stopped.
Three men were in waiting and opened the door. Two of them overpowered Ganimard, who, hampered in his movements and completely bewildered, hardly thought of defending himself. The third helped Lupin out.
"I told you, Ganimard!... Carried off by balloon ... and thanks to you!... Next time, you must show less compassion. And, above all, remember that Arsne Lupin does not allow himself to be bashed and mauled about without good reasons. Good-bye...."
The lift-door was already closed and the lift, with Ganimard inside, sent back on its journey toward the ground floor. And all this was done so expeditiously that the old detective caught up his subordinates at the door of the porter's lodge.
Without a word, they hurried across the courtyard and up the servants' staircase, the only means of communication with the floor by which the escape had been effected.
A long passage, with many windings, lined with small, numbered rooms, led to a door, which had been simply left ajar. Beyond this door and, consequently, in another house, was another passage, also with a number of turns and lined with similar rooms. Right at the end was a servants' staircase. Ganimard went down it, crossed a yard, a hall and rushed into a street: the Rue Picot. Then he understood: the two houses were built back to back and their fronts faced two streets, running not at right angles, but parallel, with a distance of over sixty yards between them.
He entered the porter's lodge and showed his card:
"Have four men just gone out?"
"Yes, the two servants of the fourth and fifth floors, with two friends."
"Who lives on the fourth and fifth floors?"
"Two gentlemen of the name of Fauvel and their cousins, the Provosts.... They moved this morning. Only the two servants remained.... They have just gone."
"Ah," thought Ganimard, sinking on to a sofa in the lodge, "what a fine stroke we have missed! The whole gang occupied this rabbit-warren!..."
* * * * *
Forty minutes later, two gentlemen drove up in a cab to the Gare du Nord and hurried toward the Calais express, followed by a porter carrying their bags.
One of them had his arm in a sling and his face was pale and drawn. The other seemed in great spirits:
"Come along, Wilson; it won't do to miss the train!... Oh, Wilson, I shall never forget these ten days!"
"No more shall I."
"What a fine series of battles!"
"Magnificent!"
"A regrettable incident, here and there, but of very slight importance."
"Very slight, as you say."
"And, lastly, victory all along the line. Lupin arrested! The blue diamond recovered!"
"My arm broken!"
"With a success of this kind, what does a broken arm matter?"
"Especially mine."
"Especially yours. Remember, Wilson, it was at the very moment when you were at the chemist's, suffering like a hero, that I discovered the clue that guided me through the darkness."
"What a piece of luck!"
The doors were being locked.
"Take your seats, please. Hurry up, gentlemen!"
The porter climbed into an empty compartment and placed the bags in the rack, while Shears hoisted the unfortunate Wilson in:
"What are you doing, Wilson? Hurry up, old chap!... Pull yourself together, do!"
"It's not for want of pulling myself together."
"What then?"
"I can only use one hand."
"Well?" cried Shears, gaily. "What a fuss you make! One would think you were the only man in your plight. What about the fellows who have really lost an arm? Well, are you settled? Thank goodness for that!"
He gave the porter a half-franc piece.
"Here, my man. That's for you."
"Thank you, Mr. Shears."
The Englishman raised his eyes: Arsne Lupin!
"You!... You!" he blurted in his bewilderment.
And Wilson stammered, waving his one hand with the gestures of a man proving a fact:
"You!... You!... But you're arrested! Shears told me so. When he left you, Ganimard and his thirty detectives had you surrounded!"
Lupin crossed his arms with an air of indignation:
"So you thought I would let you go without coming to see you off? After the excellent friendly relations which we never ceased to keep up? Why, it would have been unspeakably rude. What do you take me for?"
The engine whistled.
"However, I forgive you.... Have you all you want? Tobacco, matches?... That's right.... And the evening papers? You will find the details of my arrest in them: your last exploit, matre! And now, _au revoir_; and delighted to have made your acquaintance ... delighted, I mean it!... And, if ever I can do anything for you, I shall be only too pleased."
He jumped down to the platform and closed the door.
"Good-bye!" he cried again, waving his handkerchief. "Good-bye.... I'll write to you!... Mind you write too; let me know how the broken arm is, Mr. Wilson! I shall expect to hear from both of you.... Just a picture postcard, now and again.... 'Lupin, Paris' will always find me.... It's quite enough.... Never mind about stamping the letters.... Good-bye!...