The Adventures of Arsène Lupin. Морис Леблан
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a Lupin warned—"
He stopped suddenly, seized with a fit of coughing, and hid his face in his napkin, as if something had stuck in his throat.
"A bit of bread?" I inquired. "Drink some water."
"No, it isn't that," he replied, in a stifled voice.
"Then, what is it?"
"The want of air."
"Do you wish a window opened?"
"No, I shall go out. Give me my hat and overcoat, quick! I must go."
"What's the matter?"
"The two gentlemen who came in just now.... Look at the taller one ... now, when we go out, keep to my left, so he will not see me."
"The one who is sitting behind you?"
"Yes. I will explain it to you, outside."
"Who is it?"
"Herlock Sholmes."
He made a desperate effort to control himself, as if he were ashamed of his emotion, replaced his napkin, drank a glass of water, and, quite recovered, said to me, smiling:
"It is strange, hein, that I should be affected so easily, but that unexpected sight—"
"What have you to fear, since no one can recognize you, on account of your many transformations? Every time I see you it seems to me your face is changed; it's not at all familiar. I don't know why."
"But he would recognize me," said Lupin. "He has seen me only once; but, at that time, he made a mental photograph of me—not of my external appearance but of my very soul—not what I appear to be but just what I am. Do you understand? And then ... and then.... I did not expect to meet him here.... Such a strange encounter!... in this little restaurant...."
"Well, shall we go out?"
"No, not now," said Lupin.
"What are you going to do?"
"The better way is to act frankly ... to have confidence in him—trust him...."
"You will not speak to him?"
"Why not! It will be to my advantage to do so, and find out what he knows, and, perhaps, what he thinks. At present I have the feeling that his gaze is on my neck and shoulders, and that he is trying to remember where he has seen them before."
He reflected a moment. I observed a malicious smile at the corner of his mouth; then, obedient, I think, to a whim of his impulsive nature, and not to the necessities of the situation, he arose, turned around, and, with a bow and a joyous air, he said:
"By what lucky chance? Ah! I am delighted to see you. Permit me to introduce a friend of mine."
For a moment the Englishman was disconcerted; then he made a movement as if he would seize Arsène Lupin. The latter shook his head, and said:
"That would not be fair; besides, the movement would be an awkward one and ... quite useless."
The Englishman looked about him, as if in search of assistance.
"No use," said Lupin. "Besides, are you quite sure you can place your hand on me? Come, now, show me that you are a real Englishman and, therefore, a good sport."
This advice seemed to commend itself to the detective, for he partially rose and said, very formally:
"Monsieur Wilson, my friend and assistant—Monsieur Arsène Lupin."
Wilson's amazement evoked a laugh. With bulging eyes and gaping mouth, he looked from one to the other, as if unable to comprehend the situation. Herlock Sholmes laughed and said:
"Wilson, you should conceal your astonishment at an incident which is one of the most natural in the world."
"Why do you not arrest him?" stammered Wilson.
"Have you not observed, Wilson, that the gentleman is between me and the door, and only a few steps from the door. By the time I could move my little finger he would be outside."
"Don't let that make any difference," said Lupin, who now walked around the table and seated himself so that the Englishman was between him and the door—thus placing himself at the mercy of the foreigner.
Wilson looked at Sholmes to find out if he had the right to admire this act of wanton courage. The Englishman's face was impenetrable; but, a moment later, he called:
"Waiter!"
When the waiter came he ordered soda, beer and whisky. The treaty of peace was signed—until further orders. In a few moments the four men were conversing in an apparently friendly manner.
Herlock Sholmes is a man such as you might meet every day in the business world. He is about fifty years of age, and looks as if he might have passed his life in an office, adding up columns of dull figures or writing out formal statements of business accounts. There was nothing to distinguish him from the average citizen of London, except the appearance of his eyes, his terribly keen and penetrating eyes.
But then he is Herlock Sholmes—which means that he is a wonderful combination of intuition, observation, clairvoyance and ingenuity. One could readily believe that nature had been pleased to take the two most extraordinary detectives that the imagination of man has hitherto conceived, the Dupin of Edgar Allen Poe and the Lecoq of Emile Gaboriau, and, out of that material, constructed a new detective, more extraordinary and supernatural than either of them. And when a person reads the history of his exploits, which have made him famous throughout the entire world, he asks himself whether Herlock Sholmes is not a mythical personage, a fictitious hero born in the brain of a great novelist—Conan Doyle, for instance.
When Arsène Lupin questioned him in regard to the length of his sojourn in France he turned the conversation into its proper channel by saying:
"That depends on you, monsieur."
"Oh!" exclaimed Lupin, laughing, "if it depends on me you can return to England to-night."
"That is a little too soon, but I expect to return in the course of eight or nine days—ten at the outside."
"Are you in such a hurry?"
"I have many cases to attend to; such as the robbery of the Anglo-Chinese Bank, the abduction of Lady Eccleston.... But, don't you think, Monsieur Lupin, that I can finish my business in Paris within a week?"
"Certainly, if you confine your efforts to the case of the blue diamond. It is, moreover, the length of time that I require to make preparations for my safety in case the solution of that affair should give you certain dangerous advantages over me."
"And yet," said the Englishman, "I expect to close the business in eight or ten days."
"And arrest me on the eleventh, perhaps?"
"No, the tenth is my limit."
Lupin shook his head thoughtfully, as he said:
"That will be difficult—very difficult."
"Difficult, perhaps, but possible, therefore certain—"
"Absolutely certain," said Wilson, as if he had clearly worked out the long series of operations which would conduct his collaborator to the desired result.
"Of course," said Herlock Sholmes, "I do not hold all the trump cards, as these cases are already several months old, and I lack certain information and clues upon which I am accustomed to base my investigations."
"Such as spots of mud and cigarette ashes," said Wilson, with an air of importance.
"In addition to the remarkable conclusions formed by Monsieur Ganimard, I have obtained all the articles written on the subject, and have formed a few deductions of my own."
"Some ideas which were suggested to us by analysis or hypothesis," added Wilson, sententiously.
"I wish to enquire," said Arsène Lupin, in that deferential tone which he employed in speaking to Sholmes, "would I be indiscreet