The Arsene Lupin MEGAPACK ®. Морис Леблан

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      “That is quite certain, you say!”

      “Well, in the soft earth on either side of the fence, they found the two holes made by the bottom of the ladder, and two similar holes can be seen below the window. And the stone railing of the balcony shows two scratches which were doubtless made by the contact of the ladder.”

      “Is the Parc Monceau closed at night?”

      “No; but if it were, there is a house in course of erection at number 14, and a person could enter that way.”

      Sherlock Holmes reflected for a few minutes, and then said:

      “Let us come down to the theft. It must have been committed in this room?”

      “Yes; there was here, between that twelfth century Virgin and that tabernacle of chased silver, a small Jewish lamp. It has disappeared.”

      “And is that all?”

      “That is all.”

      “Ah!… And what is a Jewish lamp!”

      “One of those copper lamps used by the ancient Jews, consisting of a standard which supported a bowl containing the oil, and from this bowl projected several burners intended for the wicks.”

      “Upon the whole, an object of small value.”

      “No great value, of course. But this one contained a secret hiding-place in which we were accustomed to place a magnificent jewel, a chimera in gold, set with rubies and emeralds, which was of great value.”

      “Why did you hide it there?”

      “Oh! I can’t give any reason, monsieur, unless it was an odd fancy to utilize a hiding-place of that kind.”

      “Did anyone know it?”

      “No.”

      “No one—except the thief,” said Holmes. “Otherwise he would not have taken the trouble to steal the lamp.”

      “Of course. But how could he know it, as it was only by accident that the secret mechanism of the lamp was revealed to us.”

      “A similar accident has revealed it to some one else…a servant…or an acquaintance. But let us proceed: I suppose the police have been notified?”

      “Yes. The examining magistrate has completed his investigation. The reporter-detectives attached to the leading newspapers have also made their investigations. But, as I wrote to you, it seems to me the mystery will never be solved.”

      Holmes arose, went to the window, examined the casement, the balcony, the terrace, studied the scratches on the stone railing with his magnifying-glass, and then requested Mon. d’Imblevalle to show him the garden.

      Outside, Holmes sat down in a rattan chair and gazed at the roof of the house in a dreamy way. Then he walked over to the two little wooden boxes with which they had covered the holes made in the ground by the bottom of the ladder with a view of preserving them intact. He raised the boxes, kneeled on the ground, scrutinized the holes and made some measurements. After making a similar examination of the holes near the fence, he and the baron returned to the boudoir where Madame d’Imblevalle was waiting for them. After a short silence Holmes said:

      “At the very outset of your story, baron, I was surprised at the very simple methods employed by the thief. To raise a ladder, cut a window-pane, select a valuable article, and walk out again—no, that is not the way such things are done. All that is too plain, too simple.”

      “Well, what do you think!”

      “That the Jewish lamp was stolen under the direction of Arsène Lupin.”

      “Arsène Lupin!” exclaimed the baron.

      “Yes, but he did not do it himself, as no one came from the outside. Perhaps a servant descended from the upper floor by means of a waterspout that I noticed when I was in the garden.”

      “What makes you think so!”

      “Arsène Lupin would not leave this room empty-handed.”

      “Empty-handed! But he had the lamp.”

      “But that would not have prevented his taking that snuff-box, set with diamonds, or that opal necklace. When he leaves anything, it is because he can’t carry it away.”

      “But the marks of the ladder outside!”

      “A false scent. Placed there simply to avert suspicion.”

      “And the scratches on the balustrade?”

      “A farce! They were made with a piece of sandpaper. See, here are scraps of the paper that I picked up in the garden.”

      “And what about the marks made by the bottom of the ladder?”

      “Counterfeit! Examine the two rectangular holes below the window, and the two holes near the fence. They are of a similar form, but I find that the two holes near the house are closer to each other than the two holes near the fence. What does that fact suggest? To me, it suggested that the four holes were made by a piece of wood prepared for the purpose.”

      “The better proof would be the piece of wood itself.”

      “Here it is,” said Holmes, “I found it in the garden, under the box of a laurel tree.”

      The baron bowed to Holmes in recognition of his skill. Only forty minutes had elapsed since the Englishman had entered the house, and he had already exploded all the theories theretofore formed, and which had been based on what appeared to be obvious and undeniable facts. But what now appeared to be the real facts of the case rested upon a more solid foundation, to-wit, the astute reasoning of a Sherlock Holmes.

      “The accusation which you make against one of our household is a very serious matter,” said the baroness. “Our servants have been with us a long time and none of them would betray our trust.”

      “If none of them has betrayed you, how can you explain the fact that I received this letter on the same day and by the same mail as the letter you wrote to me?”

      He handed to the baroness the letter that he had received from Arsène Lupin. She exclaimed, in amazement:

      “Arsène Lupin! How could he know?”

      “Did you tell anyone that you had written to me?”

      “No one,” replied the baron. “The idea occurred to us the other evening at the dinner-table.”

      “Before the servants?”

      “No, only our two children. Oh, no…Sophie and Henriette had left the table, hadn’t they, Suzanne?”

      Madame d’Imblevalle, after a moment’s reflection, replied:

      “Yes, they had gone to Mademoiselle.”

      “Mademoiselle?” queried Holmes.

      “The СКАЧАТЬ