The Arsene Lupin MEGAPACK ®. Морис Леблан

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СКАЧАТЬ visible in the dust of the road as two of the machines were furnished with striated tires. Very soon he ascertained that the tracks were leading him to the edge of the Seine, and that the three men had turned in the direction taken by Bresson on the preceding evening. Thus he arrived at the gateway where he and Ganimard had concealed themselves, and, a little farther on, he discovered a mingling of the bicycle tracks which showed that the men had halted at that spot. Directly opposite there was a little point of land which projected into the river and, at the extremity thereof, an old boat was moored.

      It was there that Bresson had thrown away the package, or, rather, had dropped it. Holmes descended the bank and saw that the declivity was not steep and the water quite shallow, so it would be quite easy to recover the package, provided the three men had not forestalled him.

      “No, that can’t be,” he thought, “they have not had time. A quarter of an hour at the most. And yet, why did they come this way?”

      A fisherman was seated on the old boat. Holmes asked him:

      “Did you see three men on bicycles a few minutes ago?”

      The fisherman made a negative gesture. But Holmes insisted:

      “Three men who stopped on the road just on top of the bank?”

      The fisherman rested his pole under his arm, took a memorandum book from his pocket, wrote on one of the pages, tore it out, and handed it to Holmes. The Englishman gave a start of surprise. In the middle of the paper which he held in his hand he saw the series of letters cut from the alphabet-book:

      CDEHNOPRZEO—237.

      The man resumed his fishing, sheltered from the sun by a large straw hat, with his coat and vest lying beside him. He was intently watching the cork attached to his line as it floated on the surface of the water.

      There was a moment of silence—solemn and terrible.

      “Is it he?” conjectured Holmes, with an anxiety that was almost pitiful. Then the truth burst upon him:

      “It is he! It is he! No one else could remain there so calmly, without the slightest display of anxiety, without the least fear of what might happen. And who else would know the story of those mysterious letters? Alice had warned him by means of her messenger.”

      Suddenly the Englishman felt that his hand—that his own hand had involuntarily seized the handle of his revolver, and that his eyes were fixed on the man’s back, a little below the neck. One movement, and the drama would be finished; the life of the strange adventurer would come to a miserable end.

      The fisherman did not stir.

      Holmes nervously toyed with his revolver, and experienced a wild desire to fire it and end everything; but the horror of such an act was repugnant to his nature. Death would be certain and would end all.

      “Ah!” he thought, “let him get up and defend himself. If he doesn’t, so much the worse for him. One second more…and I fire.…”

      But a sound of footsteps behind him caused him to turn his head. It was Ganimard coming with some assistants.

      Then, quickly changing his plans, Holmes leaped into the boat, which was broken from its moorings by his sudden action; he pounced upon the man and seized him around the body. They rolled to the bottom of the boat together.

      “Well, now!” exclaimed Lupin, struggling to free himself, “what does this mean? When one of us has conquered the other, what good will it do? You will not know what to do with me, nor I with you. We will remain here like two idiots.”

      The two oars slipped into the water. The boat drifted into the stream.

      “Good Lord, what a fuss you make! A man of your age ought to know better! You act like a child.”

      Lupin succeeded in freeing himself from the grasp of the detective, who, thoroughly exasperated and ready to kill, put his hand in his pocket. He uttered an oath: Lupin had taken his revolver. Then he knelt down and tried to capture one of the lost oars in order to regain the shore, while Lupin was trying to capture the other oar in order to drive the boat down the river.

      “It’s gone! I can’t reach it,” said Lupin. “But it’s of no consequence. If you get your oar I can prevent your using it. And you could do the same to me. But, you see, that is the way in this world, we act without any purpose or reason, as our efforts are in vain since Fate decides everything. Now, don’t you see, Fate is on the side of his friend Lupin. The game is mine! The current favors me!”

      The boat was slowly drifting down the river.

      “Look out!” cried Lupin, quickly.

      Someone on the bank was pointing a revolver. Lupin stooped, a shot was fired; it struck the water beyond the boat. Lupin burst into laughter.

      “God bless me! It’s my friend Ganimard! But it was very wrong of you to do that, Ganimard. You have no right to shoot except in self-defense. Does poor Lupin worry you so much that you forget yourself?… Now, be good, and don’t shoot again!… If you do you will hit our English friend.”

      He stood behind Holmes, facing Ganimard, and said:

      “Now, Ganimard, I am ready! Aim for his heart!… Higher!… A little to the left.… Ah! you missed that time…deuced bad shot.… Try again.… Your hand shakes, Ganimard.… Now, once more…one, two, three, fire!… Missed!… Parbleu! the authorities furnish you with toy-pistols.”

      Lupin drew a long revolver and fired without taking aim. Ganimard put his hand to his hat: the bullet had passed through it.

      “What do you think of that, Ganimard! Ah! that’s a real revolver! A genuine English bulldog. It belongs to my friend, Sherlock Holmes.”

      And, with a laugh, he threw the revolver to the shore, where it landed at Ganimard’s feet.

      Holmes could not withhold a smile of admiration. What a torrent of youthful spirits! And how he seemed to enjoy himself! It appeared as if the sensation of peril caused him a physical pleasure; and this extraordinary man had no other purpose in life than to seek for dangers simply for the amusement it afforded him in avoiding them.

      Many people had now gathered on the banks of the river, and Ganimard and his men followed the boat as it slowly floated down the stream. Lupin’s capture was a mathematical certainty.

      “Confess, old fellow,” said Lupin, turning to the Englishman, “that you would not exchange your present position for all the gold in the Transvaal! You are now in the first row of the orchestra chairs! But, in the first place, we must have the prologue…after which we can leap, at one bound, to the fifth act of the drama, which will represent the capture or escape of Arsène Lupin. Therefore, I am going to ask you a plain question, to which I request a plain answer—a simple yes or no. Will you renounce this affair? At present I can repair the damage you have done; later it will be beyond my power. Is it a bargain?”

      “No.”

      Lupin’s face showed his disappointment and annoyance. He continued:

      “I insist. More for your sake than my own, I insist, because I am certain you will be the first to regret your intervention. For the last time, yes or no?”

      “No.”

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