The Blonde Lady. Leblanc Maurice
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remark impressed the bystanders. Ganimard resumed:
"Another question, Mr. Charles.... You were woke by a ring.... Who was it, according to you, that called you?"
"Monsieur le baron, of course."
"Very well. But at what moment do you take it that he rang?"
"After the struggle … at the moment of dying."
"Impossible, because you found him lying, lifeless, at a spot more than four yards removed from the bell-push."
"Then he rang during the struggle."
"Impossible, because the bell, you told us, rang steadily, without interruption, and went on for seven or eight seconds. Do you think that his assailant would have given him time to ring like that?"
"Then it was before, at the moment when he was attacked."
"Impossible. You told us that, between the ring of the bell and the instant when you entered the room, three minutes elapsed, at most. If, therefore, the baron had rung before, it would be necessary for the struggle, the murder, the dying agony and the flight to have taken place within that short space of three minutes. I repeat, it is impossible."
"And yet," said the examining magistrate, "some one rang. If it was not the baron, who was it?"
"The murderer."
"With what object?"
"I can't tell his object. But at least the fact that he rang proves that he must have known that the bell communicated with a servant's bedroom. Now who could have known this detail except a person belonging to the house?"
The circle of suppositions was becoming narrower. In a few quick, clear, logical sentences, Ganimard placed the question in its true light; and, as the old inspector allowed his thoughts to appear quite plainly, it seemed only natural that the examining magistrate should conclude:
"In short, in two words, you suspect Antoinette Bréhat."
"I don't suspect her; I accuse her."
"You accuse her of being the accomplice?"
"I accuse her of killing General Baron d'Hautrec."
"Come, come! And what proof…?"
"This handful of hair, which I found in the victim's right hand, dug into his flesh by the points of his nails."
He showed the hair; it was hair of a brilliant fairness, gleaming like so many threads of gold; and Charles muttered:
"That is certainly Mlle. Antoinette's hair. There is no mistaking it." And he added, "Besides … there's something more.... I believe the knife … the one I didn't see the second time … belonged to her.... She used it to cut the pages of the books."
The silence that followed was long and painful, as though the crime increased in horror through having been committed by a woman. The examining magistrate argued:
"Let us admit, until further information is obtained, that the baron was murdered by Antoinette Bréhat. We should still have to explain what way she can have taken to go out after committing the crime, to return after Charles's departure and to go out again before the arrival of the commissary. Have you any opinion on this subject, M. Ganimard?"
"No."
"Then…?"
Ganimard wore an air of embarrassment. At last, he spoke, not without a visible effort:
"All that I can say is that I find in this the same way of setting to work as in the ticket 514-23 case, the same phenomenon which one might call the faculty of disappearance. Antoinette Bréhat appears and disappears in this house as mysteriously as Arsène Lupin made his way into Maître Detinan's and escaped from there in the company of the blonde lady."
"Which means…?"
"Which means that I cannot help thinking of these two coincidences, which, to say the least, are very odd: first, Antoinette Bréhat was engaged by Sœur Auguste twelve days ago, that is to say, on the day after that on which the blonde lady slipped through my fingers. In the second place, the hair of the blonde lady has precisely the same violent colouring, the metallic brilliancy with a golden sheen, which we find in this."
"So that, according to you, Antoinette Bréhat …"
"Is none other than the blonde lady."
"And Lupin, consequently, plotted both cases?"
"I think so."
There was a loud burst of laughter. It was the chief of the detective-service indulging his merriment:
"Lupin! Always Lupin! Lupin is in everything; Lupin is everywhere!"
"He is just where he is," said Ganimard, angrily.
"And then he must have his reasons for being in any particular place," remarked M. Dudouis, "and, in this case, his reasons seem to me obscure. The writing-desk has not been broken open nor the pocketbook stolen. There is even gold left lying on the table."
"Yes," cried Ganimard, "but what about the famous diamond?"
"What diamond?"
"The blue diamond! The celebrated diamond which formed part of the royal crown of France and which was presented by the Duc d'Alais to Léonide Latouche and, on her death, was bought by Baron d'Hautrec in memory of the brilliant actress whom he had passionately loved. This is one of those recollections which an old Parisian like myself never forgets."
"It is obvious," said the examining magistrate, "that, if the blue diamond is not found, the thing explains itself. But where are we to look?"
"On monsieur le baron's finger," replied Charles. "The blue diamond was never off his left hand."
"I have looked at that hand," declared Ganimard, going up to the corpse, "and, as you can see for yourselves, there is only a plain gold ring."
"Look inside the palm," said the servant.
Ganimard unfolded the clenched fingers. The bezel was turned inward and, contained within the bezel, glittered the blue diamond.
"The devil!" muttered Ganimard, absolutely nonplussed. "This is beyond me!"
"And I hope that you will now give up suspecting that unfortunate Arsène Lupin?" said M. Dudouis, with a grin.
Ganimard took his time, reflected and retorted, in a sententious tone:
"It is just when a thing gets beyond me that I suspect Arsène Lupin most."
These were the first discoveries effected by the police on the day following upon that strange murder, vague, inconsistent discoveries to which the subsequent inquiry imparted neither consistency nor certainty. The movements of Antoinette Bréhat remained as absolutely inexplicable as those of the blonde lady, nor was any light thrown upon the identity of that mysterious creature with the golden hair who had killed Baron d'Hautrec without taking from his finger the fabulous diamond from the royal crown of France.
Moreover and especially, the curiosity which it inspired raised the murder above the level of a sordid crime to that of a mighty, if heinous trespass, the mystery of which irritated the public mind.
Baron d'Hautrec's heirs were obliged to benefit by this great advertisement. They arranged an exhibition of the furniture and personal effects in the Avenue Henri-Martin, in the house itself, on the scene of the crime, prior to the sale at the Salle Drouot. The furniture was modern and in indifferent taste, the knicknacks had no artistic value … but, in the middle of the bedroom, on a stand covered with ruby velvet, the ring with the blue diamond sparkled under a glass shade, closely watched by two detectives.
It was a magnificent diamond of enormous size and incomparable purity and of that undefined blue which clear water takes from the sky which it reflects, the blue which we can just suspect in newly-washed linen. People admired it, went into raptures over it … and cast terrified glances round the victim's room, at the spot where the corpse had lain, at the floor stripped of its blood-stained carpet and especially at the walls, those solid walls through which the criminal had passed. They felt to make sure that the marble chimney-piece did not swing on a pivot, that there was no secret spring in the mouldings of