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The Floating Press - Maurice Leblanc

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157 pages

English

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French writer Maurice Leblanc was heavily influenced by Arthur Conan Doyle's creation Sherlock Holmes. After devising several characters inspired by Holmes, Leblanc hit his stride with Arsene Lupin, a criminal mastermind with a heart of gold. In this collection of short tales, readers follow Lupin through a number of his outrageous capers and heists.

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 juillet 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776581313
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.

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THE CONFESSIONS OF ARSENE LUPIN
* * *
MAURICE LEBLANC

*
The Confessions of Arsene Lupin First published in 1913 Epub ISBN 978-1-77658-131-3 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77658-132-0 © 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
*
I - Two Hundred Thousand Francs Reward! II - The Wedding-Ring III - The Sign of the Shadow IV - The Infernal Trap V - The Red Silk Scarf VI - Shadowed by Death VII - A Tragedy in the Forest of Morgues VIII - Lupin's Marriage IX - The Invisible Prisoner X - Edith Swan-Neck Endnotes
I - Two Hundred Thousand Francs Reward!
*
"Lupin," I said, "tell me something about yourself."
"Why, what would you have me tell you? Everybody knows my life!" repliedLupin, who lay drowsing on the sofa in my study.
"Nobody knows it!" I protested. "People know from your letters in thenewspapers that you were mixed up in this case, that you started thatcase. But the part which you played in it all, the plain facts of thestory, the upshot of the mystery: these are things of which they knownothing."
"Pooh! A heap of uninteresting twaddle!"
"What! Your present of fifty thousand francs to Nicolas Dugrival's wife!Do you call that uninteresting? And what about the way in which yousolved the puzzle of the three pictures?"
Lupin laughed:
"Yes, that was a queer puzzle, certainly. I can suggest a title for youif you like: what do you say to The Sign of the Shadow ?"
"And your successes in society and with the fair sex?" I continued. "Thedashing Arsène's love-affairs!... And the clue to your good actions?Those chapters in your life to which you have so often alluded under thenames of The Wedding-ring , Shadowed by Death , and so on!... Whydelay these confidences and confessions, my dear Lupin?... Come, do whatI ask you!..."
It was at the time when Lupin, though already famous, had not yet foughthis biggest battles; the time that preceded the great adventures of TheHollow Needle and 813 . He had not yet dreamt of annexing theaccumulated treasures of the French Royal House [1] nor of changing themap of Europe under the Kaiser's nose [2] : he contented himself withmilder surprises and humbler profits, making his daily effort, doingevil from day to day and doing a little good as well, naturally and forthe love of the thing, like a whimsical and compassionate Don Quixote.
He was silent; and I insisted:
"Lupin, I wish you would!"
To my astonishment, he replied:
"Take a sheet of paper, old fellow, and a pencil."
I obeyed with alacrity, delighted at the thought that he at last meantto dictate to me some of those pages which he knows how to clothe withsuch vigour and fancy, pages which I, unfortunately, am obliged to spoilwith tedious explanations and boring developments.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Quite."
"Write down, 20, 1, 11, 5, 14, 15."
"What?"
"Write it down, I tell you."
He was now sitting up, with his eyes turned to the open window and hisfingers rolling a Turkish cigarette. He continued:
"Write down, 21, 14, 14, 5...."
He stopped. Then he went on:
"3, 5, 19, 19 ..."
And, after a pause:
"5, 18, 25 ..."
Was he mad? I looked at him hard and, presently, I saw that his eyeswere no longer listless, as they had been a little before, but keen andattentive and that they seemed to be watching, somewhere, in space, asight that apparently captivated them.
Meanwhile, he dictated, with intervals between each number:
"18, 9, 19, 11, 19 ..."
There was hardly anything to be seen through the window but a patch ofblue sky on the right and the front of the building opposite, an oldprivate house, whose shutters were closed as usual. There was nothingparticular about all this, no detail that struck me as new among thosewhich I had had before my eyes for years....
"1, 2...."
And suddenly I understood ... or rather I thought I understood, for howcould I admit that Lupin, a man so essentially level-headed under hismask of frivolity, could waste his time upon such childish nonsense?What he was counting was the intermittent flashes of a ray of sunlightplaying on the dingy front of the opposite house, at the height of thesecond floor!
"15, 22 ..." said Lupin.
The flash disappeared for a few seconds and then struck the house again,successively, at regular intervals, and disappeared once more.
I had instinctively counted the flashes and I said, aloud:
"5...."
"Caught the idea? I congratulate you!" he replied, sarcastically.
He went to the window and leant out, as though to discover the exactdirection followed by the ray of light. Then he came and lay on the sofaagain, saying:
"It's your turn now. Count away!"
The fellow seemed so positive that I did as he told me. Besides, I couldnot help confessing that there was something rather curious about theordered frequency of those gleams on the front of the house opposite,those appearances and disappearances, turn and turn about, like so manyflash signals.
They obviously came from a house on our side of the street, for the sunwas entering my windows slantwise. It was as though some one werealternately opening and shutting a casement, or, more likely, amusinghimself by making sunlight flashes with a pocket-mirror.
"It's a child having a game!" I cried, after a moment or two, feeling alittle irritated by the trivial occupation that had been thrust upon me.
"Never mind, go on!"
And I counted away.... And I put down rows of figures.... And the suncontinued to play in front of me, with mathematical precision.
"Well?" said Lupin, after a longer pause than usual.
"Why, it seems finished.... There has been nothing for someminutes...."
We waited and, as no more light flashed through space, I said,jestingly:
"My idea is that we have been wasting our time. A few figures on paper:a poor result!"
Lupin, without stirring from his sofa, rejoined:
"Oblige me, old chap, by putting in the place of each of those numbersthe corresponding letter of the alphabet. Count A as 1, B as 2 and soon. Do you follow me?"
"But it's idiotic!"
"Absolutely idiotic, but we do such a lot of idiotic things in thislife.... One more or less, you know!..."
I sat down to this silly work and wrote out the first letters:
" Take no.... "
I broke off in surprise:
"Words!" I exclaimed. "Two English words meaning...."
"Go on, old chap."
And I went on and the next letters formed two more words, which Iseparated as they appeared. And, to my great amazement, a completeEnglish sentence lay before my eyes.
"Done?" asked Lupin, after a time.
"Done!... By the way, there are mistakes in the spelling...."
"Never mind those and read it out, please.... Read slowly."
Thereupon I read out the following unfinished communication, which Iwill set down as it appeared on the paper in front of me:
" Take no unnecessery risks. Above all, avoid atacks, approach ennemy with great prudance and.... "
I began to laugh:
"And there you are! Fiat lux! We're simply dazed with light! But,after all, Lupin, confess that this advice, dribbled out by akitchen-maid, doesn't help you much!"
Lupin rose, without breaking his contemptuous silence, and took thesheet of paper.
I remembered soon after that, at this moment, I happened to look at theclock. It was eighteen minutes past five.
Lupin was standing with the paper in his hand; and I was able at my easeto watch, on his youthful features, that extraordinary mobility ofexpression which baffles all observers and constitutes his greatstrength and his chief safeguard. By what signs can one hope to identifya face which changes at pleasure, even without the help of make-up, andwhose every transient expression seems to be the final, definiteexpression?... By what signs? There was one which I knew well, aninvariable sign: Two little crossed wrinkles that marked his foreheadwhenever he made a powerful effort of concentration. And I saw it atthat moment, saw the tiny tell-tale cross, plainly and deeply scored.
He put down the sheet of paper and muttered:
"Child's play!"
The clock struck half-past five.
"What!" I cried. "Have you succeeded?... In twelve minutes?..."
He took a few steps up and down the room, lit a cigarette and said:
"You might ring up Baron Repstein, if you don't mind, and tell him Ishall be with him at ten o'clock this evening."
"Baron Repstein?" I asked. "The husband of the famous baroness?"
"Yes."
"Are you serious?"
"Quite serious."
Feeling absolutely at a loss, but incapable of resisting him, I openedthe telephone-directory and unhooked the receiver. But, at that moment,Lupin stopped me with a peremptory gesture and said, with his eyes onthe paper, which he had taken up again:
"No, don't say anything.... It's no use letting him know.... There'ssomething more urgent ... a queer thing that puzzles me.... Why onearth wasn't the last sentence finished? Why is the sentence...."
He snatched up his hat and stick:
"Let's be off. If I'm not mistaken, this is a business that requiresimmediate solution; and I don't believe I am mistaken."
He put his arm through mine, as we went down the stairs, and said:
"I know what everybody knows. Baron Repstein, the company-promoter andracing-man, whose colt Etna won the Derby and the Grand Prix this year,has been victimized by his wife. The wife, who was well known for herfair hair, her dress and her extravagance, ran away a fortnight ago,taking with her a sum of three million francs, stolen from her husband,and quite a collection of diamonds, pearls and