The Blonde Lady Part 35

The sailors withdrew. Lupin said to the captain:

"Captain, one of the crew must remain in the cabin to wait on Mr. Shears and you yourself must keep him company as much as you can. Let him be treated with every consideration. He is not a prisoner, but a guest.

What is the time by your watch, captain?"

"Five minutes past two."

Lupin looked at his own watch and at a clock which hung on the cabin-wall:

"Five minutes past two?... Our watches agree. How long will it take you to reach Southampton?"

"Nine hours, without hurrying."

"Make it eleven. You must not touch land before the departure of the steamer which leaves Southampton at midnight and is due at the Havre at eight in the morning. You understand, captain, do you not? I repeat: it would be exceedingly dangerous for us all if this gentleman returned to France by the steamer; and you must not arrive at Southampton before one o'clock in the morning."

"Very well, sir."

"Good-bye, maitre," said Lupin, turning to Shears. "We shall meet next year, in this world or another."

"Let's say to-morrow."

A few minutes later, Shears heard the car drive away and the engines of the _Hirondelle_ at once began to throb with increased force. The yacht threw off her moorings. By three o'clock they had left the estuary of the Seine and entered the Channel. At that moment, Holmlock Shears lay sound asleep in the berth to which he was fastened down.

On the following morning, the tenth and last day of the war between the two great rivals, the _echo de France_ published this delicious paragraph:

"A decree of expulsion was p.r.o.nounced by a.r.s.ene Lupin yesterday against Holmlock Shears, the English detective. The decree was published at noon and executed on the same day. Shears was landed at Southampton at one o'clock this morning."

CHAPTER VI

THE SECOND ARREST OF a.r.s.eNE LUPIN

By eight o'clock on Wednesday morning, a dozen pantechnicon vans were blocking the Rue Crevaux from the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne to the Avenue Bougeaud. M. Felix Davey was leaving the flat which he occupied on the fourth floor of No. 8. And, by a sheer coincidence--for the two gentlemen were not acquainted--M. Dubreuil, the expert, who had knocked into one the fifth-floor flat of No. 8 and the fifth-floor flats of the two adjoining houses, had selected the same day on which to send off the collection of furniture and antiques which used to be visited daily by one or other of his many foreign correspondents.

A peculiarity which attracted notice in the neighbourhood, but which was not mentioned until later, was that none of the twelve vans bore the name and address of the firm of removers and that none of the men in charge of them loitered in the wine-shops round about. They worked to such good purpose that all was over by eleven o'clock. Nothing remained but those piles of old papers and rags which are always left behind in the corners of empty rooms.

M. Felix Davey was a young man of smart appearance, dressed in the latest fashion, but carrying a heavily-weighted cane which seemed to indicate unusual muscular strength on the part of its owner. He walked away quietly and sat down on a bench in the cross alley which intersects the Avenue du Bois, opposite the Rue Pergolese. Beside him sat a young woman, clad in the costume of the lower middle-cla.s.s and reading her paper, while a child played with its spade in the sand beside her.

Presently, Felix Davey said to the woman, without turning his head:

"Ganimard?"

"Went out at nine o'clock this morning."

"Where to?"

"Police headquarters."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"No telegram last night?"

"No."

"Do they still trust you at the house?"

"Yes. I do odd work for Madame Ganimard and she tells me all her husband does.... We spent the morning together."

"Good. Continue to come here at eleven every morning, until further orders."

He rose and walked to the Pavillon Chinois, near the Porte Dauphine, where he took a frugal meal: two eggs, some vegetables and a little fruit. Then he returned to the Rue Crevaux and said to the concierge:

"I am going to have a look round upstairs and then I'll give you the keys."

He finished his inspection with the room which he used as a study. There he took hold of the end of a jointed gas-bracket which was fixed beside the chimney, unscrewed the bra.s.s nozzle, fitted a little funnel-shaped instrument to it and blew up the pipe.

A faint whistle sounded in reply. Putting the pipe to his mouth, he whispered:

"Any one there, Dubreuil?"

"No."

"Can I come up?"

"Yes."

He replaced the bracket, saying, as he did so:

"Where will progress stop? Our age teems with little inventions that make life really charming and picturesque. And so amusing too ...

especially when a man knows the game of life as I know it!"

He touched one of the marble mouldings of the mantel-piece and made it swing round on a pivot. The marble slab itself moved and the mirror above it slid between invisible grooves, revealing a yawning gap which contained the lower steps of a staircase built in the body of the chimney itself. It was all very clean, in carefully-polished iron and white porcelain tiles.

He climbed up to the fifth floor, which had a similar opening over the mantel-piece, and found M. Dubreuil awaiting him:

"Is everything finished here?"

"Everything."

"All cleared up?"

"Quite."