Arsene Lupin vs. Herlock Sholmes , livre ebook

The Floating Press - Maurice Leblanc ,
traduit par George Moorehead

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153 pages

English

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Description

Arsene Lupin, the brilliant detective created by French writer Maurice Leblanc, was often described by critics and fans as "the French Sherlock Holmes." This cheeky volume of detective stories pokes fun at that comparison by pitting Lupin's wits against the formidable talents of one "Herlock Sholmes," a master investigator who bears a striking resemblance to a certain character created by Arthur Conan Doyle.

Informations

Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 juillet 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776581337
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

ARSENE LUPIN VS. HERLOCK SHOLMES
* * *
MAURICE LEBLANC
Translated by
GEORGE MOOREHEAD

*
Arsene Lupin vs. Herlock Sholmes First published in 1908 Epub ISBN 978-1-77658-133-7 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77658-134-4 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Chapter I - Lottery Ticket No. 514 Chapter II - The Blue Diamond Chapter III - Herlock Sholmes Opens Hostilities Chapter IV - Light in the Darkness Chapter V - An Abduction Chapter VI - Second Arrest of Arsène Lupin Chapter VII - The Jewish Lamp Chapter VIII - The Shipwreck
Chapter I - Lottery Ticket No. 514
*
On the eighth day of last December, Mon. Gerbois, professor ofmathematics at the College of Versailles, while rummaging in an oldcuriosity-shop, unearthed a small mahogany writing-desk which pleasedhim very much on account of the multiplicity of its drawers.
"Just the thing for Suzanne's birthday present," thought he. And as healways tried to furnish some simple pleasures for his daughter,consistent with his modest income, he enquired the price, and, aftersome keen bargaining, purchased it for sixty-five francs. As he wasgiving his address to the shopkeeper, a young man, dressed with eleganceand taste, who had been exploring the stock of antiques, caught sightof the writing-desk, and immediately enquired its price.
"It is sold," replied the shopkeeper.
"Ah! to this gentleman, I presume?"
Monsieur Gerbois bowed, and left the store, quite proud to be thepossessor of an article which had attracted the attention of a gentlemanof quality. But he had not taken a dozen steps in the street, when hewas overtaken by the young man who, hat in hand and in a tone of perfectcourtesy, thus addressed him:
"I beg your pardon, monsieur; I am going to ask you a question that youmay deem impertinent. It is this: Did you have any special object inview when you bought that writing-desk?"
"No, I came across it by chance and it struck my fancy."
"But you do not care for it particularly?"
"Oh! I shall keep it—that is all."
"Because it is an antique, perhaps?"
"No; because it is convenient," declared Mon. Gerbois.
"In that case, you would consent to exchange it for another desk thatwould be quite as convenient and in better condition?"
"Oh! this one is in good condition, and I see no object in making anexchange."
"But—"
Mon. Gerbois is a man of irritable disposition and hasty temper. So hereplied, testily:
"I beg of you, monsieur, do not insist."
But the young man firmly held his ground.
"I don't know how much you paid for it, monsieur, but I offer youdouble."
"No."
"Three times the amount."
"Oh! that will do," exclaimed the professor, impatiently; "I don't wishto sell it."
The young man stared at him for a moment in a manner that Mon. Gerboiswould not readily forget, then turned and walked rapidly away.
An hour later, the desk was delivered at the professor's house on theViroflay road. He called his daughter, and said:
"Here is something for you, Suzanne, provided you like it."
Suzanne was a pretty girl, with a gay and affectionate nature. She threwher arms around her father's neck and kissed him rapturously. To her,the desk had all the semblance of a royal gift. That evening, assistedby Hortense, the servant, she placed the desk in her room; then shedusted it, cleaned the drawers and pigeon-holes, and carefully arrangedwithin it her papers, writing material, correspondence, a collection ofpost-cards, and some souvenirs of her cousin Philippe that she kept insecret.
Next morning, at half past seven, Mon. Gerbois went to the college. Atten o'clock, in pursuance of her usual custom, Suzanne went to meet him,and it was a great pleasure for him to see her slender figure andchildish smile waiting for him at the college gate. They returned hometogether.
"And your writing desk—how is it this morning!"
"Marvellous! Hortense and I have polished the brass mountings until theylook like gold."
"So you are pleased with it?"
"Pleased with it! Why, I don't see how I managed to get on without itfor such a long time."
As they were walking up the pathway to the house, Mon. Gerbois said:
"Shall we go and take a look at it before breakfast?"
"Oh! yes, that's a splendid idea!"
She ascended the stairs ahead of her father, but, on arriving at thedoor of her room, she uttered a cry of surprise and dismay.
"What's the matter?" stammered Mon. Gerbois.
"The writing-desk is gone!"
*
When the police were called in, they were astonished at the admirablesimplicity of the means employed by the thief. During Suzanne's absence,the servant had gone to market, and while the house was thus leftunguarded, a drayman, wearing a badge—some of the neighbors sawit—stopped his cart in front of the house and rang twice. Not knowingthat Hortense was absent, the neighbors were not suspicious;consequently, the man carried on his work in peace and tranquility.
Apart from the desk, not a thing in the house had been disturbed. EvenSuzanne's purse, which she had left upon the writing-desk, was foundupon an adjacent table with its contents untouched. It was obvious thatthe thief had come with a set purpose, which rendered the crime evenmore mysterious; because, why did he assume so great a risk for such atrifling object?
The only clue the professor could furnish was the strange incident ofthe preceding evening. He declared:
"The young man was greatly provoked at my refusal, and I had an ideathat he threatened me as he went away."
But the clue was a vague one. The shopkeeper could not throw any lighton the affair. He did not know either of the gentlemen. As to the deskitself, he had purchased it for forty francs at an executor's sale atChevreuse, and believed he had resold it at its fair value. The policeinvestigation disclosed nothing more.
But Mon. Gerbois entertained the idea that he had suffered an enormousloss. There must have been a fortune concealed in a secret drawer, andthat was the reason the young man had resorted to crime.
"My poor father, what would we have done with that fortune?" askedSuzanne.
"My child! with such a fortune, you could make a most advantageousmarriage."
Suzanne sighed bitterly. Her aspirations soared no higher than hercousin Philippe, who was indeed a most deplorable object. And life, inthe little house at Versailles, was not so happy and contented as ofyore.
Two months passed away. Then came a succession of startling events, astrange blending of good luck and dire misfortune!
On the first day of February, at half-past five, Mon. Gerbois enteredthe house, carrying an evening paper, took a seat, put on hisspectacles, and commenced to read. As politics did not interest him, heturned to the inside of the paper. Immediately his attention wasattracted by an article entitled:
"Third Drawing of the Press Association Lottery.
"No. 514, series 23, draws a million."
The newspaper slipped from his fingers. The walls swam before his eyes,and his heart ceased to beat. He held No. 514, series 23. He hadpurchased it from a friend, to oblige him, without any thought ofsuccess, and behold, it was the lucky number!
Quickly, he took out his memorandum-book. Yes, he was quite right. TheNo. 514, series 23, was written there, on the inside of the cover. Butthe ticket?
He rushed to his desk to find the envelope-box in which he had placedthe precious ticket; but the box was not there, and it suddenly occurredto him that it had not been there for several weeks. He heard footstepson the gravel walk leading from the street.
He called:
"Suzanne! Suzanne!"
She was returning from a walk. She entered hastily. He stammered, in achoking voice:
"Suzanne ... the box ... the box of envelopes?"
"What box?"
"The one I bought at the Louvre ... one Saturday ... it was at the endof that table."
"Don't you remember, father, we put all those things away together."
"When?"
"The evening ... you know ... the same evening...."
"But where?... Tell me, quick!... Where?"
"Where? Why, in the writing-desk."
"In the writing-desk that was stolen?"
"Yes."
"Oh, mon Dieu!... In the stolen desk!"
He uttered the last sentence in a low voice, in a sort of stupor. Thenhe seized her hand, and in a still lower voice, he said:
"It contained a million, my child."
"Ah! father, why didn't you tell me?" she murmured, naively.
"A million!" he repeated. "It contained the ticket that drew the grandprize in the Press Lottery."
The colossal proportions of the disaster overwhelmed them, and for along time they maintained a silence that they feared to break. At last,Suzanne said:
"But, father, they will pay you just the same."
"How? On what proof?"
"Must you have proof?"
"Of course."
"And you haven't any?"
"It was in the box."
"In the box that has disappeared."
"Yes; and now the thief will get the money."
"Oh! that would be terrible, father. You must prevent it."
For a moment he was silent; then, in an outburst of energy, he leapedup, stamped on the floor, and exclaimed:
"No, no, he shall not have that million; he shall not have it! Whyshould he have it? Ah! clever as he is, he can do nothing. If he goes toclaim the money, they will arrest him. Ah! now, we will see, my finefellow!"
"What will you do, father?"
"Defend our just rights, whatever happens! And we will succeed. Themillion francs belong to me, and I intend to have them."
A few minutes later, he sent this telegram:
"Governor Crédit Foncier
"rue Capucines