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"It is one of those lamps which they used to employ in the old days, consisting of a stem and of a receiver to contain the oil. This receiver had two or more burners, which held the wicks."
"When all is said, objects of no great value."
"Just so. But the one in question formed a hiding-place in which we had made it a practice to keep a magnificent antique jewel, a chimera in gold, set with rubies and emeralds and worth a great deal of money."
"What was your reason for this practice?"
"Upon my word, Mr. Shears, I should find it difficult to tell you!
Perhaps we just thought it amusing to have a hiding-place of this kind."
"Did n.o.body know of it?"
"n.o.body."
"Except, of course, the thief," objected Shears. "But for that, he would not have taken the trouble to steal the Jewish lamp."
"Obviously. But how could he know of it, seeing that it was by an accident that we discovered the secret mechanism of the lamp?"
"The same accident may have revealed it to somebody else: a servant ...
a visitor to the house.... But let us continue: have you informed the police?"
"Certainly. The examining-magistrate has made his inquiry. The journalistic detectives attached to all the big newspapers have made theirs. But, as I wrote to you, it does not seem as though the problem had the least chance of ever being solved."
Shears rose, went to the window, inspected the cas.e.m.e.nt, the balcony, the bal.u.s.trade, employed his lens to study the two scratches on the stone and asked M. d'Imblevalle to take him down to the garden.
When they were outside, Shears simply sat down in a wicker chair and contemplated the roof of the house with a dreamy eye. Then he suddenly walked toward two little wooden cases with which, in order to preserve the exact marks, they had covered the holes which the uprights of the ladder had left in the ground, below the balcony. He removed the cases, went down on his knees and, with rounded back and his nose six inches from the ground, searched and took his measurements. He went through the same performance along the railing, but more quickly.
That was all.
They both returned to the boudoir, where Madame d'Imblevalle was waiting for them.
Shears was silent for a few minutes longer and then spoke these words:
"Ever since you began your story, monsieur le baron, I was struck by the really too simple side of the offence. To apply a ladder, remove a pane of gla.s.s, pick out an object and go away: no, things don't happen so easily as that. It is all too clear, too plain."
"You mean to say...?"
"I mean to say that the theft of the Jewish lamp was committed under the direction of a.r.s.ene Lupin."
"a.r.s.ene Lupin!" exclaimed the baron.
"But it was committed without a.r.s.ene Lupin's presence and without anybody's entering the house.... Perhaps a servant slipped down to the balcony from his garret, along a rain-spout which I saw from the garden."
"But what evidence have you?"
"a.r.s.ene Lupin would not have left the boudoir empty-handed."
"Empty-handed! And what about the lamp?"
"Taking the lamp would not have prevented him from taking this snuff-box, which, I see, is studded with diamonds, or this necklace of old opals. It would require but two movements more. His only reason for not making those movements was that he was not here to make them."
"Still, the marks of the ladder?"
"A farce! Mere stage-play to divert suspicions!"
"The scratches on the bal.u.s.trade?"
"A sham! They were made with sandpaper. Look, here are a few bits of paper which I picked up."
"The marks left by the uprights of the ladder?"
"Humbug! Examine the two rectangular holes below the balcony and the two holes near the railings. The shape is similar, but, whereas they are parallel here, they are not so over there. Measure the s.p.a.ce that separates each hole from its neighbour: it differs in the two cases.
Below the balcony, the distance is nine inches. Beside the railings, it is eleven inches."
"What do you conclude from that?"
"I conclude, since their outline is identical, that the four holes were made with one stump of wood, cut to the right shape."
"The best argument would be the stump of wood itself."
"Here it is," said Shears. "I picked it up in the garden, behind a laurel-tub."
The baron gave in. It was only forty minutes since the Englishman had entered by that door; and not a vestige remained of all that had been believed so far on the evidence of the apparent facts themselves. The reality, a different reality, came to light, founded upon something much more solid: the reasoning faculties of a Holmlock Shears.
"It is a very serious accusation to bring against our people, Mr.
Shears," said the baroness. "They are old family servants and not one of them is capable of deceiving us."
"If one of them did not deceive you, how do you explain that this letter was able to reach me on the same day and by the same post as the one you sent me?"
And he handed her the letter which a.r.s.ene Lupin had written to him.
Madame d'Imblevalle was dumbfounded:
"a.r.s.ene Lupin!... How did he know?"
"Did you tell no one of your letter?"
"No one," said the baron. "The idea occurred to us the other evening, at dinner."
"Before the servants?"
"There were only our two children. And even then ... no, Sophie and Henrietta were not at table, were they Suzanne?"
Madame d'Imblevalle reflected and declared: